Country life
Finding an ideal husband
Leanda de Lisle
Why is it,' the editor of this maga- zine mused to me, 'that so many London girls suddenly disappear to marry some man in the country? The men are always the same, slightly balding, never speak, have some kind of military connection and nothing in common with any of the bride's friends.'
His comments were rather close to the bone. I laughed, but I felt quite cross. What kind of person should we be expected to marry? Hairy-headed London journalists? Look at the television. Who is the new romantic hero? The countryman.
Last year there was the BBC's Mr Darcy, who had hair, but never spoke. This year, there's the chap in the Mills and Boon-style Nescafe ad. He has slightly less hair and is poised to speak to the beautiful business colleague he has invited to his 18th-century family house.
`Is this really all yours?' she twitters. If size matters, a country house is more impressive than a red Porsche or a substan- tial expense account ever will be. However, I admit girls who marry a countryman out of awe for his over doors rarely last long in the damp reality of the shires. Rural life is not frightfully glamorous.
People lucky enough to own a grand house are likely to spend most of their time and money supporting it. Forget about' shopping at Browns, you'll be paying for instruction in how to gild your own cornice. Forget about a whizzy social life — more videos are rented in rural areas than any- where else.
Most of the time you are home alone with your beloved. You marry the country- man for better, for worse, for lunch and for dinner, be he a farmer, a gamekeeper or a headhunter with a modem. Happily there is much to love in the reserved and sturdy country gentleman. Most are loyal, stable and affectionate, not unlike their labradors.
London men appear to be more like ter- riers. They rush around frantically, work, work, work, drinks party, dinner with friends, work, work — it's exhausting just to look at them. Many of them make amus- ing company, but they seem too busy for love.
Why else is the metropolis packed with gorgeous, intelligent, thirty-something spin- sters, longing to get married and have chil- dren? They gaze wistfully at the coffee ad. `I wanted everything to be perfect,' the hero whispers to their alter ego. 'There is something I want to ask you ...' What could it be? If the hero was one of their boyfriends, it would be 'pass the sugar' and they wouldn't bat an eyelid.
My girlfriends assure me that in London it is romantic death to look as if you might know what a wedding is. Countrymen on the other hand make no bones about their desire to marry. It's lonely sitting on a sofa by yourself in the evening. As for children, the shires are the breeding fields of Eng- land. We even manage to conceive them in the traditional way.
Sam Abdalla, director of the Lister hospi- tal's fertility clinic, claims they have to help out London couples who are unable to find a window of opportunity for copulation. However, perhaps Petronella Wyatt is right and sex is 'a greatly overrated pastime'. What about the stupendous mind of the London male? They are quick to point out they are cleverer than their country peers.
Occasionally that is true, but what use is the ability to write a good history essay in a husband? Humour, now that's important. Kindness and good sense, they are pluses too. Besides countrymen are almost invari- ably wiser than their London counterparts.
They don't take careers so seriously for a start. One London girlfriend left her boyfriend because he became contorted by jealousy whenever she was invited to appear on television. Most peculiar. Up here such an event would be viewed as a useful way of paying for the curtain's and something extra to natter about at bath- time, after you've covered more interesting subjects like lake dredging.
If you are looking for someone who knows the Prime Minister and worries about his sperm count, you'll probably find him in London. If you want someone to have and to hold, go to the country.
Previous page
