Tonight we met our doppelgänger, exiles from London who’ve been living here almost a year. I don’t know how we’ve missed them given the size of our Cotswold town. They’re a couple that are roughly our age, no kids, professionals, and, notably, full-timers despite the need to commute into London regularly.
Right now I am in need of encouragement about trying out rural life full-time, and I welcome the living, breathing proof that residence in the Cotswolds can be achieved without quitting one’s job and becoming a sheep farmer. It’s also a bit of a relief to talk to someone and not feel like I am on an anthropological expedition where conversation is the equivalent of picking up a stick and poking around. We speak the same language, notably lacking in references to shooting, hunting, stalking, tweed, lords or ladies of any kind.