I vant to be alone

Four years ago I moved to a house on top of a hill by the sea. 3 hours by train to the nearest M&S, franchise coffee outlet or pretty much anything global. Buses off the cover of "How we used to live 1950-55". Random local bank holidays, as and when.
It's not a village (pop c. 8,000), has an internet cafe (open Tues and Thurs 2pm - 5pm, and Wed 10am - 12pm), and a much-loved cinema (one screen in mint 1970s condition, the other a room with 24 chairs for 24 souls).
Watching the news, reading national newspaper Lifestyle sections, listening to the incessant whine of 'London types' on radio phone-ins, it feels like I'm in that other country where they do things differently.

And, there's a whole other world north of here. There we're the metropolis. We're where the action is. A couple of weeks ago we took a day-trip to Skye. 3 hours north of here. 3 hours back. Through a 1,000 year old time tunnel of mountains, moors and lochs emerging into a rainbow-gated, whisky-scented cloud kingdom. Still UK '07, but, I tell you, if I was a native, I'd wonder wtf Westminster, hose-pipe bans, the successful Olympic games bid ..... had to do with me and my life. Any more than Sarkozy, Californian forest fires or Helsinki 2007.

At 244.9 people per sq km the UK is one of the most densely populated countries in the world. What a selfish, heady joy to live where it's possible to drive, without hesitation, deviation or repetition, for 6 hours, (hot running water and lectricky at both ends), and still wonder if you're unwittingly IT in a gigantic game of hide and seek.