Before Easter a neighbour asked about using my tractor mounted corkscrew to split a pile of lime, oak and beech logs and. as we leaned on his gate, I noticed that his rickety rustic wood shelter was built with odd bits of timber, tyres and tin sheets.
I commented that you could tell that he was a true countryman because his shed had character! “Anyone can do tidy” he replied, “but it takes a countryman to do character.”
I met a lot of country characters last November when I was invited by Farmers Weekly magazine to their awards dinner in a posh London hotel. There, I heard about ordinary people who have become extraordinary through their work in British agriculture. I also met and shared ideas with rural folk from all over the country. One thing we agreed on was that in recent years some city people have moved to the countryside, but have left their hearts in the town.
This can be a problem for country folk, but is also an opportunity to demonstrate that a rural community is unlike any other. It is not a club of like-minded people such as a football team or a campaigning group, nor is it restricted to self identifying groups in the way that black or gay communities are. A rural community includes the men and women who have shaped our landscape, planted our trees, built our homes, started the blood lines of our livestock and who now sleep peacefully by our ancient churches. A rural community includes the past, present and future.
Recently, I was in Taynton looking at the Gloster cattle of a friend of mine when he said, “ … country folk always have a sense of place.” We then talked about how this implies a deep connection to the landscape, farming customs, country sports, and local traditions and architecture. We agreed that for the people who now live locally it is important to understand the difference in the mindsets of town and country.
Differences may arise because country folk live with livestock and learn to pick up their signals and adjust their own behaviour to suit. Likewise, understanding the vagaries of the seasons and weather helps to develop tolerance and adaptability to the unforeseen.
The country mind is normally tolerant of idiosyncratic friends and neighbours and adjusts to their behaviour, which might explain why country folk appear to be less ‘standardised,’ than their urban cousins – as witnessed by the presence of the ‘characters’ in our benefice.
My Taynton friend and I often talk about how life has changed during the past 70 years and, although our working lives were different, we share a love for the local landscape, rural customs, livestock, parish churches and the beauty of English music.
We think that in the rural community, the instinct is to trust and share, and don’t find it unusual that people care for a neighbour’s livestock when needed. Many people give generously of their time, to ensure the upkeep of the church and village hall, and sometimes, help is rewarded with buckets of walnuts, cuts of meat, and bags of vegetables or logs for the fire. In the case of the Apostles’ fires ceremony at Pauntley, kindly folk lend buildings, cookers, dishes and tables to allow villagers to continue the traditions of the past.
I wouldn’t want new residents to get the idea that every aspect of rural life is idyllic, and I suppose much depends on your point of view. For example, if I lived in London, neighbours wouldn’t be happy if I kept a pig at the bottom of the garden, any more than rural neighbours are happy when an outdoor light is left on to pollute the blackness of the rural night, or when old trees and hedges are replaced by urban-style fencing.
Talking of “characters and points of view” however, reminds me of a Vicar I once knew who pinned a poster outside his church which read,
“Don’t let worry kill you off – let the Church help.”
View from the Pew 