My life as a country gentleman

It's been more than eight months since I gave up life in the big city and moved permanently to my small village in mid-Suffolk. And whilst there were some concerns when I did so, it seems to be going well enough.

Part of the adjustment was ensuring that I didn't become isolated, a genuine risk when you don't drive, and you rely on a rather fragile transport infrastructure to get around. And so my role as a Parish Councillor helps that, both as an intellectual challenge (it is possible that I worry too much about that element of the job) and as an activity. In turn, that leads to my role as 'foreign minister', representing the village at meetings of the Suffolk Association of Local Councils (SALC), and of the Stowmarket and District Road Safety Committee.

Of course, one needs a social life too. The monthly coffee morning organised by the Parochial Church Council, the odd village pub night (odd, as in occasional, before you ask), a Local Party social event or two, all of them fill slots in the diary. I come to London from time to time, to visit family, to do things with Ros, or for meetings of Unlock Democracy.

Finally, there are what I would describe as the unexpected events. Last weekend, I put on my black tie and the dinner jacket, and attended the High Sheriff's charity dinner in Ipswich, a high society event for Suffolk gentry, raising funds for the Suffolk Foundation, a wonderful organisation doing valuable work across the county. The wine flowed, as did the witty and light-hearted conversation, as networking took place.

The following day saw the Mayor of Needham Market's Civic Service and, given Ros's title, and her long connection to the town, we get an invite to attend and to take part in the procession. Mayors from other Suffolk towns attend in their robes (the Mayor of Aldeburgh even has a robed bodyguard), and we processed down the middle of the High Street to the Parish Church of St John the Baptist, with traffic blocked by the police whilst we did so. When we reached our destination, a rather robust, not entirely multi-cultural service followed (pardon me, but singing 'One Church, One Faith, One Lord' isn't exactly inclusive, even if the local Catholic priest is present...). We then processed back down the High Street to the Swan, where afternoon tea was served.

It is gentle, I admit, a rather low-energy lifestyle, where trying too hard is frowned upon, and those 'big city ways' need to toned down, but it is far removed from the stresses of the urban rat race. Think of it as the rural vole stroll...