Things you only know as a townie living a weekend country life

No easy way of saying this, but we have just joined the ranks of those irritating people who pop off to the country on a Friday night and then head back to the smoke on Sunday. Townie Weekenders (TWS) is what that makes us, and though we like to think we fit in just like real Country Dwellers (CDS), we do not and have unique problems and a different way of looking at things. For example:

The recycling situation

You can’t just put the recycling out the way you do in town. Where do CDS take it? Often you will take the recycling back to town after the weekend and the bottles will still be clanking around in the boot when you drive to the country again

It’s “not on” to eat out, other than on a special occasion

If you head to your nearest café for breakfast (as a Townie might), that is considered very metropolitan and creepy. CDS like to have breakfast at home with the radio on and a proper teapot.

There is no weekend in the country

You might just as easily have a blowout fancy-dress kneesup on a Tuesday. CDS consider all the emphasis on Saturday to be a bit TW.

There’s a half-dead fly thing going on

Flies in the curtains and on the windowsills, spinning on their backs and buzzing all night. No one knows why.

There will be mud

And often you will have no idea where it has come from.

The compost situation

In the country, you are expected to have your own compost heap, obviously, and then bring your compost from town to put on it, if you want to do it properly. It’s quite a responsibility.

Flora-and-fauna awareness

We live right on the edge of a field, but what is growing in the field? Beets? Wheat? Barley? Something else? We certainly can’t ask anyone. Not knowing is bad and very TW. Similarly, you can’t say: “Look, a big bird!” All of this is pressure. The dark Simply not used to it. It’s deep-space dark, whereas in town you have blackout curtains and could still read a book with the lights off. It gets properly cold

Not the “brrr” for 15 minutes while you wait for it to get toasty like Santa’s grotto, kind of cold. There is a different rule for heating in the country. You’re prepared to put up with breaking the ice in the basin and wearing your thermals at all times, but the reality is more a case of very hot places interspersed with very cold places. There’s the Aga hotspot, and the twoyards-around-the-fireplace spot, and the bed-with-theelectric-blanket spot, and that’s it. In all the other places, it’s like a fridge.

You need a lot longer to shop

You can go into a shop in the country – say, the newsagent – and it will be empty. No sign of a person behind the till. And then several minutes will pass and someone will emerge from the back looking as if you have wandered into their front room, but they’re not going to hold that against you. They’re open to an explanation, even curious. It takes a bit of getting used to.

You are, from the perspective of the locals, weird and paranoid

Should you ask the man outside the Co-op if he would mind “watching” your shopping while you go and get the car, he will have no idea what you are on about. In the village near us, there is an unmanned shed where you buy the Sunday papers and leave your money in an honesty box. There’s also an IOU list you sign if you’re a bit short. Imagine that.

It is really hard to find a Waitrose

Like fish out of water

Things you only know when you’re a townie living a weekend country life