Took a trip to our new local last night, with our new neighbours and friends for Tapas, beer and wine. The pub has just reopened with scatty landlady and amazing food. There were people in the pub younger than us and some older, it was full up and I’m really glad that it wasn’t full of farmers. It seems to me that if you’ve got mains drainage in a village then housing estates will follow and therefore a broader mix of folks. The farming mafia isn’t something i’ll miss with Shrawley, the cliques and feelings of never quite being accepted despite being here for 15 years or so.

Seeing the youngsters made us think the village is awash with drugs, so I asked the landlady for cocaine which I don’t think she heard or didn’t believe she’d heard what I said, I’m getting to think that this Clifton lark may be quite a laugh.

So moving house is becoming more of a reality although I was saying to Mrs T this evening that I feel like a slight imposter, selling our old tatty little cottage and trading it for a shiny new modern house which I don’t really feel I have a right to live in. We’ll see, i’m sure the feeling will pass as the King and Queen of Northern Clifton carve their position within the community, from Minister to Supreme Ruler, like in North Korea. The village shop is up for grabs too and there’s definitely a buzz within the soon to be established and newly established crowd. Its going to be fun, lets hope someone is crazy enough to lend us the money!