An English Village

I live in an English village, I have lived there for 23 years. Not in the same house, but in the same stretch of lane. We have a Church that is in the Domesday Book, built in the 1100's, it has a very famous mural apparently. It is called a village but is really a hamlet. We have a school and a Church and a space called Six Brothers Field where local festivals are held. There is one farm that still operates, conventional chemical farm unfortunately. The other farm has been broken up now and what remains is a livery yard. Oh, and how could I forget the golf course, a championship course, very hard apparently. The only golf I have ever played is crazy or pitch and put.

When I moved into the village my son was 3 and the rest of the villagers were all older, much older, there were no children anywhere to be seen. Whilst walking my dog one day I saw a washing line full of nappies. I was so excited I knocked on the door, not something that was like me to do... but I was desperate...somebody that might have a child. There was a child and he was almost the same age as my son and his mum was nice too.

Gradually the village changed, as the old folk died new young families moved in. There were now loads of kids and the village was alive again. The village school had to close it's doors to children from 'outside' because for the first time in years we could fill the school all on our own. The strange thing was virtually all the kids were boys, they had a fantastic childhood, similar to one 50 years previous.

My house at that time was opposite 'The Green', that is what it was called by the locals, in actual fact it is just a piece of land, I think the Council designate it as a grass verge, about half an acre in size, that is an island in the middle of a no through road. 'The Green' is full of beautiful trees, there is even a damson, the reason for this is because several years ago gypsies parked their caravans on it, and the villagers decided that if trees filled 'The Green' no caravans could be parked there ever again. It worked.

My front door was never locked and every weekend, and all through out the school holidays my home was an open house, the village kids were in and out all day for drinks and food, I loved it and so did they. They had camps in the woods, they would race their bikes around 'The Green', they got up to all sorts of things, the things that little boys do, harmless fun. They were outside playing almost from dawn to dusk.

Even though my kids are now grown, twenty-six and twenty, there continues to be an influx of young families. Though these families do not send their off spring to the village school, they all go to private schools out of the village. The village school is now full of children from other nearby towns.

The incomers drive far too fast through the lanes and past the horses out hacking, they have even managed to get the council to install kerb stones on some of the lanes, because they did not like the mud on the roads in the winter I presume. If you happen to see one walking around and say 'good morning' to them they mostly just look back at you in surprise and do not answer, or mumble something inaudible. They will probably manage to get street lights installed in the not too distant future!

Our village used to be made up of individuals but now it has been taken over by 'normal' people. I would far rather be an individual, and would hate the title of being 'normal' bestowed upon me.

These incomers moved here presumably because they liked the look of the place... then they try their hardest to change it.

I do not think my village is unique in England, this sort of thing is happening all over the UK and in the rest of the world too, I am quite sure of that.