So I grew up in a little country village with nice genuine people (and a few nutty farmers), then one by one we all moved away after Thatcher's right to buy on council houses saw nearly everyone sell up and make a quick profit after getting a 50% discount.
Snobby townies saw the opportunity and moved in, soon the bus services were removed and the village shops closed down as the newbies all had poncy Range Rovers and wouldn't be seen dead mixing with the local scum, our village pub suddenly didn't have a dart board, and instead of a pie and a pint all you could get was a cordon bleu meal and wine if you could afford it.
The elderly were left stranded needing to travel miles to get basic supplies, so eventually they all went as well, leaving the village as an upmarket desirable location for anyone willing to spend upwards of a quarter of a million quid buying an ex-council house worth ten grand twenty years ago.
Sit in a field watching the world go by and I guarantee some busy body or the police will come and ask you what you're up to.
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