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Published: December 4th 2012
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Book Exchange. Open 24/7.
'We bought it for £1. Otherwise BT were going to take it away', our host told me. Feeling lazy, I lounged on the settee. BBC Breakfast News was on a roll. Endless items of bad news. Same old. Same old. But then something different. A woman talking about living rent-free in London. I roused myself. Pricked up my ears. And that's how I heard about TrustedHousesitters.com. It seemed tailor-made for us and our nomadic lifestyle. We had to give it a go.
It's a great thing to be trusted. It feels like a gift. All it took was an e-mail and a phone call - 'I just wanted to hear your voice' - and we'd got our first assignment. The tiny village of Flitton, in Bedfordshire was far from any bright lights, but we wanted to see hidden corners of England, live for a short while in tucked away places, and meld in with the locals. Travelling the globe makes me nostalgic for all things Brittania – thatched roofs, bangers, hedgerows, dog-lovers, country pubs, and stately homes – but travel in the UK pulls our purse strings rather tight. In Flitton we lived like kings for nothing, in a house, parts of which dated back to 1604. Inglenook fireplaces, exposed beams and creaking wooden floors.
Flitton
Mud, Mud And More Mud.
Russ says: 'Go on then, pick it up!' itself was a great surprise. Who'd have thought that a village sandwiched between Luton and Bedford would have so much going for it? The little church boasts the mausoleum of the De Grey family – one of the largest sepulchral chapels attached to any church anywhere in England. An army of local ladies were wielding polish and dusters, chatting and laughing. One of them, originally from Russia, told me she'd lived in Flitton for twenty years. 'When I first came it was so quiet, my daughter was frightened and crept into bed with me' – now traffic thunders down the High Street, as people commute into London. 'But it's like a retreat here, so peaceful compared to the city'.
Indeed, Flitton is on the edge of a conservation area. We walked Russ and Ruby for two hours every day. Border Collies, both eight years old, but there the similarity ended. Russ was larger, got twice as much to eat, and had to have an extra section sewn into his towelling 'jacket'. Ruby was smaller, skittish, and had a tendency to bolt. Both were adorable, tails wagging from the word go. We squelched through mud and moorland, walking next to
the little River Flit. Ruby chased squirrels in the woods, Russ only had an eye for the ball, prancing backwards, tongue lolling, pleading without speaking, in-between throws. Racing backwards and forwards it was a game they never tired of. We nodded and exchanged pleasantries with other dog-lovers – wellington booted, hooded, thick jacketed, - men and women lost in thought, buffeted by wind and rain.
There was no shop in Flitton, but there were two pubs. The 'Jolly Cooper', a traditional country pub, packed to the gills, plastic wrapped packages of meat being sold in the snug, fine ales and steaming plates of pub food. 'The White Hart', sandwiched between the Church of John the Baptist and the red telephone-kiosk-cum-book-exchange, offered a more up-market dining experience. Wonderful food, fantastic puddings.
Forget those top one hundred hotspot articles regularly touted by all the tourist magazines; we got all this experience in a little village, that's on no-one's list of places to go. Next we're off to Shropshire, for our second stint of housesitting and more 'off the beaten track' enjoyment.
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astrid
non-member comment
just as
Just as interesting as India. Marocco. Egypt. Yet take a picture of your india travel and compare it to Wrest Park....so different! Atmosphere. Reminds me of feeling like a fish without water while walking the hights in Ladakh. Different atmospheres and how we adapt (or not)