Small town rumour mills
Anyone who lives in a small town knows that their neighbour probably knows what they’re doing, probably before they’ve done it.
And sometimes you don’t need to have done anything, but everyone thinks you have anyway.
The nature of living in a small, often isolated community is that we look out for each other.
Sometimes, that means we get to know a little too much about the people across the fence.
But that kind of goes with the territory if you live in close quarters or don’t get out of town much.
If you didn’t know your neighbours, you’d be a hermit, and no-one wants to be one of those.
Sometimes, if your life is actually really boring, people will embellish what they know about you to make you seem far more interesting.
When we first bought our holiday home, my then-partner and I worked in broadcasting.
We knew no-one in town, but bought the property on a whim as a bolt-hole from our busy jobs.
The next day my partner went overseas for six weeks’ work.
Cue the rumours - our house had been bought by an overseas investor.
Or because he was Maori and worked in television, comedian Mike King was moving into the neighbourhood.
Or because we worked in telly, we were loaded. I bet that made for some good banter at the pub.
So upon my partner’s return we started a rumour that we were bowling our 100 year old cottage, replacing it with a Tuscan-themed apartment block.
The rumour-mill really went into overdrive. And when we broke up and I moved into the village permanently as a single girl, it exploded.
If the rumours are to be believed, I, the scarlet woman, have had more sexual relations than Bill Clinton.
I’ve busted up marriages and had secret, long-standing affairs.
I love the fact that I can walk into my pub alone and strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone - but it hasn’t always done them any good.
Pensioners, farmers, bar staff, you name it - they’ve all been cannon fodder for the harlot living in the main street.
What’s really fun is starting a rumour about yourself. You know who the people are that will carry them on with a bit of extra embellishment - and hearing how they come back to you.
There’s some people with some amazing imaginations living in my neighbourhood.
The reality, however, is that the man-drought has not been the only drought in rural New Zealand and I’ve spent many a sleepless night wondering if I’d made the right decision to give country living a go.
It’s been a character-building period of my life, but it’s come to an end because I’ve just handed in my single card.
The rumours haven’t stopped - and I wouldn’t expect anything less.