In need of a map

This week I have found myself in something of a quandary. I suppose that we all face these little dilemmas in our lives – reaching a crossroads where it appears that whatever direction one chooses to go is going to turn out bad, either for one’s self or one’s friends. If one could only see the full picture are were furnished with a map then maybe the choices one makes would be easier, but life is not like that and this wee I fond myself not only lacking the picture but did not even have the vaguest idea that I needed one. After all, one only needs a guide if one knows one is lost.

You see, having recently made the decision to decamp to the old family home for the rest of the summer, I have taken a keen interest in the goings on around the estate and village. I suppose that in some people’s eyes I am equivalent to the old Lord of the Manor, even though that distinction does not really exist any more. My father was a very hands-on local, throwing himself into the local politics and taking a lively interest in the local families and their affairs. Although he spent a great deal of his time in London, my mother tended to stay behind, and when he was at home he acted his part with great enthusiasm and flair. It is a role I never wanted and I admit that I have not made much effort to fill the old man’s rather large shoes.

Most of my visits are short and generally speaking I try to avoid getting too involved with the gossip and petty feuds that seem to be the mainstay of rural life. Most evenings you will find any number of the local fellows propping up the bar in one of the local hostelries, freely discussing each other’s business and ruminating over small time concerns.

I have several reasons for choosing to stay down here for an extended period and part of that is that I feel I need to take some interest in the threat to the local area from developers who seem intent on buying up land so that they can build more of their unsightly and clearly unwanted new housing estates. Like most people, I have read the reports of housing shortages and the like, but surely this is a problem for the big town and cities, not our lovely country villages? More houses bring more people which mean more traffic, and the last thing we need right now is an increase in traffic. One or two of the local businesses seem quietly keen on the idea, saying it will bring more trade, but other than a few extra faces around the public bar of an evening, I doubt that any of the kind of people these new houses attract will be spending any of their money locally. After all, don’t these people normally shop at either the big supermarkets or online? I can not see that doing the local business people any good at all.

We really do not need all the trouble that these extra, unwanted residents will bring, not to mention the disruption that will be caused by the building work itself. It is all so unnecessary and pointless.

Which brings me to my own dilemma. Hope came down last week to spend a few days with me, accompanied by young Charlotte who wanted a couple of days away. Everything was going well until we visited the King’s Arms on the Tuesday evening for a light supper and a few drinks with some of the locals. Talk invariably turned, as it does, to those pesky developers. Charlotte, in particular, took a very keen interest in the discussion and began asking some rather pointed and relevant questions. There is something of the snoop about Charlotte, in that way she a lot like her sister Emily who, from experience, can be like a dog with a bone when her interest has been piqued.

Anyway, during the course of the discussions, a name cropped up that seemed vaguely familiar to me. At first, I could not place it but didn’t give it too much thought at the time. To be totally honest, at this point in the evening I was losing interest, distracted somewhat by another conversation further down the bar about the problems local farmers were having due to the dry weather. Not that I know the first thing about agricultural issues.

However, by the time we had returned to the house, it came to me where I knew the name from – it is one of the companies I have heard mentioned in relation to my family business. Now, whilst one cannot be held responsible for the activities of every element of one’s business interests, one is also aware that by admitting any connection to these people at all will undoubtedly reflect rather badly.

So that is the quandary I find myself in right now. It is a couple over a week now since Hope and Charlotte were here, but I still cannot decide whether or not I should tell them about my connections with the developers. One the one hand, if I do not tell them and they find out later I am sure they will be upset and angry. On the other hand, if I do tell them of this connection, they will probably be upset and angry and demand I do something about it. Either way I believe I will have two angry women on my tail.

So far I have not told any of the locals about my connection to the developers and I am not sure it would be very helpful if I did. I have already made my opposition to the planned development quite clear so I have to be seen to do something, but I don’t know what I can do.

After giving it some thought I have decided that I will cut short my stay here and tomorrow I will visit dear old Aunt Murdock and ask her advice. If anyone knows what is going on she will.

 

 

Summer holidays

Well, I have been back at the old homestead for over a week now and I must say I have found it to be a rather jolly and relaxing time. In fact, it has been like taking a little holiday. I feel rejuvenated and relaxed, the old batteries have been well and truly recharged, so to speak. It is strange but until this week I had not realised just how stressed and tired I had become. Life has certainly been rather busy of late and until I chatted to dear Aunt Sarah about it, I had not realised that I haven’t actually had what one might call a proper holiday for well over a year now.

Yes, I have taken myself away for a few days here and there, but they do not really count. Sarah made the suggestion that I whisk Hope away to the South of France (or somewhere similar) and do a little sailing, perhaps. I have to admit that it does sound like a jolly splendid idea, although maybe not the sailing bit. The trouble is that I know Hope is extremely busy with the gallery at the moment so I do not think she would be able to go, even if she were willing.

Of course, I could always go away on my own or with Nigel or some of the chaps from the Club, but it just wouldn’t be the same. The idea of what might be described as a “lads” holiday does not appeal to me right now. Don’t get me wrong, I have had some simply marvellous holidays with some of my old school chums, but one does grow out of that sort of thing as one gets older.

Holidays are a rather strange thing I find. As a child, my parents would regularly drag me off to spend a few weeks on the Côte d’Azur where they had a very nice little villa. Actually, I still own the place but never go there myself anymore. I suppose it has too many memories for me but in truth, I have never really been one for idling in the sun or messing about in boats. Sailing was one of my father’s great passions outside of his work; I sometimes felt that he lavished more affection on his various boats than he did on either my mother or myself. But, that said, as a child I always enjoyed our times away at the villa, probably because, away from the house and the office, these were the few times I felt close to my father.

I know that most of the chaps at the Club take themselves and their families off the increasingly far-flung and exotic places these days. Where once everyone enjoyed visiting the Mediterranean in the summer and the Alps in the winter, now it seems that chosen destinations are becoming more and more exotic. For instance, this year several of the chaps have decamped for the beaches of Mauritius and New Zealand, whilst others have been tempted to try the beaches of the Cook Islands (wherever they are!).

I may not have a great urge to fly halfway around the globe to sit in a beach, but I have made up my mind that I will act on Aunt Sarah’s suggestion and ask Hope to come away with me somewhere warm and relaxing. I will leave the choice of destination to her as I a sure she will have some good ideas. I will speak to her about it next week when she joins me here at chez Dimbelby.

Of course being out here at the old family home does not necessarily mean that I don’t have work to do. Whether it is the estate itself or dealing with queries being sent to me by Miss Drayton in the office there is always something to do. I suppose it is the curse of the modern age, one can never truly get away. I remember, and it wasn’t all that long ago that when one went away it was dashed difficult for anyone to get in touch. Nowadays one can be contacted in so many different and increasingly intrusive ways that one cannot ever guarantee a total break from work.

As you would expect, the estate itself is running like a well-oiled machine and requires very little input from me. I must say though that the weather has rather taken its toll on some of the lawns. Where until recently there had been large expanses of lush and vivid green, there is a new landscape that looks more akin to southern Italy rather leafy Hampshire. I have also been warned that some of our crops may not be doing so well this summer. Admittedly I know very little about the agricultural side of things, but it is a worry non-the-less.

So, I am enjoying my little sojourn in the country and am really looking forward to being joined by Hope for a few days next week. I suspect that Charlotte may very well be accompanying her, but I am sure she will find plenty to keep herself occupied.