My very real village, is full of vast black 4x4's, forty/fifty-sumthing wannabe 'posh spice' styled women (dyed dark-brown and wearing big black sunglasses), estates of faux-classical executive houses (one where the old sports field & kiddies swings used to be...), and a few actually rather lovely but private woodlands (a massive faux-Tudor mansion was built in one some years back - with Dobermans and security gates and all).

Needless to say, I'm increasingly itchy to move to my own idyllic imaginary village in Suffolk with woods & fields you can ramble through, a fantasy English pub that serves chips with everything and has make-believe Aspall cider on tap - even a folk club with imaginary fusty smelly old people would be quite nice...

In certain circumstances, escapism into romantic nonny-nonny land, is perhaps forgivable SO'P?