Stay up to date with notifications from The Independent

Notifications can be managed in browser preferences.

Escaping the rat race

The dream of swapping the stress of city life for the rural idyll is under threat from rising house and fuel prices – and the hostility of locals. Kunal Dutta talks to four people who made the move

Sunday 17 July 2011 00:00 BST
Comments

The dream of the rural retreat – complete with country cottage, Barbour jacket and 4x4 – has long been an aspiration for city dwellers with money to burn and a yen for the good life. But it is turning sour, amid rising fuel costs, rocketing second-home prices, scant job opportunities and, most crucially, resentful locals who refer to their well-heeled neighbours as DFL: Down From London.

The result is a widening gulf between the utopian idea of escaping the rat race and the recession-ridden reality that awaits. "Townies" are falling foul of the hostile receptions once reserved for celebrity interlopers. When Richard Caring, whose restaurant and property empire includes The Ivy, moved to Dulverton, in Somerset two years ago, he was left in no doubt about his welcome. The corpses of two stags were dumped on his doorstep. "Mr Caring has plenty of money so we wonder if there is some bad feeling among locals," his estate manager said at the time. The writer Joanna Trollope is among those who have fled back to London after complaints that she and her kind are inflating local prices and disrupting rural communities.

The problem is exacerbated by the burgeoning number of second homes, an aspect of the property market that appears impervious to the recession. There are more than 246,026 registered second homes in England, an increase of 7 per cent since 2004, according to the estate agent Knight Frank. The Dorset village of Worth Matravers saw a new housing estate daubed with graffiti: the least offensive daubs centred around the words: "Greed" and "Go Away".

Only the expense of moving has slowed the steady stream out of the cities, says Kate Mulvey, who returned to the city after a stint in Devon. "There is an urge to living lighter, opting for a pared-down lifestyle with fewer complications. The dream of outdoor flowerpots, beehives, and Gingham jam lids is no longer."

The reality is that four-bed coastal houses in Cornwall go for as much as £950,000, while flats at the Ocean Gate development in Newquay promise buyers incremental yields of more than 9 per cent each year: figures greeted with horror among locals.

Angela Powell, a 37-year-old mother, was pushed into charity-owned accommodation when the house she was leasing was reclaimed by its owner. "Finding housing in Newquay has become impossible," she says. "I look back wishing that I had bought property earlier in life – I feel forever priced out of the housing market."

It has led to a rise in community-based planning, aimed at giving locals a bigger say in what goes on around them. The benefits of this approach are shown in a BBC series, Village SOS, which will be broadcast next month. One project, in Caistor, Lincolnshire, where the derelict Methodist Chapel has been transformed into an arts and heritage centre, illustrates the difficulties. Charlotte Hastings, an executive from London spent a year in the village overseeing the project after the village won a £450,000 lottery grant.

She describes leaving the village as "less of a handover and more of a hostile takeover... You realise that it becomes a two-edged sword. There are amazing things: the level of personal responsibility, the fact that people know who you are and the intrinsic volunteering spirit that runs through the community. But there's also an inverted snobbery: people who are resistant to change or resent an outsider being parachuted in to solve them. It's like no one wants to admit they're seeing a therapist."

"You have to make the move for the right reasons," insists Stephen Fitzpatrick, 33, an entrepreneur who left London for the sedate village of Bibury, near Cirencester, two years ago. "That means being more neighbourly than you're used to, contributing to village life and being comfortable with people taking an interest in everything you're doing. Should you close yourself off you can find yourself alienated very quickly indeed."

Graham Biggs, the chief executive of the Rural Network Alliance, says: "Incoming communities can arrive expecting the same level of state services at a cheaper rate. Should that not transpire they can become very disaffected, while rising fuel prices and government pressure for people to work longer has reduced the phenomenon of people moving to the countryside when they're young and active, putting strain on the health services."

Ms Hastings adds: "The reasons to return are that for young people it's still difficult to find challenging jobs that will pay enough. And that's becoming harder."

Case studies...

Julian Ross

Translator, living in Cumbria

A northerner by birth, I had lived in Oxfordshire with spells in London, the Netherlands and Cambridge. In 2001 my wife and I moved to Cumbria, where she spent much of her youth. There was a pub in the village of Hesket Newmarket where we met some of my wife's schoolmates. When the pub came on the market, I floated the idea of buying it as a co-operative. The village agreed, and we found 125 shareholders. We took the decision that everything should be done with full consultation and the pub should be managed independently. It has helped the pub to run self-sufficiently, and for us instilled a sense of belonging.

You cannot just arrive in a rural community and impose your will on people. If you get it right, there's a sense of mutual empowerment; the community is the driving force and the project becomes bigger than the individual. Some outsiders move in with short-term or self-involved ambitions such as buying a pub to renovate and turn it into a house. Some of them arrive with dewy-eyed ambitions, expecting to be welcomed with roses around the door. Those roses are often there, but there are sometimes also cowpats in the garden.

Mike Carr

Retired IT manager, living in Dorset

It was just before the millennium that my wife and I decided to escape the city by selling our house in London for a slower pace of life. We had spent weekends in a cottage in Thorncombe, Dorset and decided to move there full time.

Spending time there at weekends had acclimatised us and allowed us to get know people. When we moved there we already had a foot in the door and were able to join clubs and integrate ourselves into local life. It takes courage to get out among people, but without that effort you risk becoming quite lonely. There are some people in the village that have chosen the "gated-community" way of life. If they choose to want to stay indoors that's fine.

One of my first projects was to set up a community shop. It instilled me with a sense of purpose and I got to forge a relationship with local people.

I do miss London life but I don't think I want to return there. I feel like I am part of the community, and the fact there are so many new services such as online shopping as well as local services has made things a lot easier.

Gemma Bachle

Osteopath, living in Exmouth

I trained in London for six years and found the pace of life quite stressful. Plus we wanted to get on the property ladder and start my own business. It was the start of the boom and house prices were rising. We decided we would get more for our money by moving to Sussex and later to Exmouth. Ten years on I now have two children and have set up my own osteopathic clinic here. But the recession has been a burden for many local businesses, and the cost of living has risen enormously. My house is not the one I envisage ending up in, but it's hard to think about moving, because house prices are rising exponentially. I gave up the London life because it was too busy. Devon and Exmouth are calmer and more comfortable – it's a five-minute walk to the beach, plus there's clean air and space to breathe. But the recession is testing everyone. I am more fortunate because I have been here for over a decade and I have had time to build plenty of clients. One of the benefits of living in rural areas is that people know who you are and if you build a good reputation, people will keep coming.

Michael Desmarais

Musician, living in London

I am essentially a musician who set up a business selling antiques. My then partner and I moved to the countryside following the property crash of 1989 which saw interest rates rocket. I had played cricket in Cirencester and used to be envious of the scenery, sold on the fresh air and quality of life, The farmhouse we bought there was much cheaper than London, and there was two acres of land around it.

However, when we moved in, the farmer and his wife were resentful and antagonistic. It was as if they didn't like the idea of anyone moving in there and thought of me as a "townie upstart". I got to know many people and made many friends, including John Entwistle from The Who.

I didn't think I would ever move back to London, but the return felt like a natural progression. It seemed as if the decades had outlived themselves, and there was absolutely no point living in the countryside any more.

Looking at it from both sides, it's easy to see how townies can feel slightly superior, but at the same time, those who react to it are often reading too much into something that isn't there.

They say it takes three generations until you are truly accepted in the countryside. I was there for 17 years, and moved around in numerous places such as Stow-on-the-Wold, Moreton-in-Marsh and Adlestrop, but ultimately I could not ignore the fact that my heart and home were in London.

Rural woes: Celebrity knocks

Kirstie Allsopp Moved five years ago from North Kensington to Welcombe, Devon, where she has enjoyed a lively relationship with the locals. To one who accused her of not contributing to the local economy, she retorted: "Contact the village shops... the pub... the fishmonger's, pram and antiques centre in Honiton... If he still feels I make no contribution... then I will happily reimburse him."

Kate Moss Her £2m Cotswold farmhouse in Hatherop came under the spotlight during Moss's wedding: residents complained about the small town of marquees and the road closures. "We're just peasants, aren't we?" said one.

Liz Jones In 2009 Jones found a bullet fired through her door in Dulverton, Somerset, after describing Exmoor as a place where "to be in possession of your own teeth is a bonus". Her lack of enjoyment of rural pleasures did not endear her to her neighbours, after she complained about village life in print.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in