I never thought I would be happy with a public house at the bottom of my garden. It’s not that we don’t drink, it’s just that the perception is it could be disruptive to quiet rural living.

Having said that, apart from the odd hiccup, which I might write about later, we have lived in perfect harmony with the public house at the bottom of this garden for the last 10 years.

Then in February it closed down quite suddenly and then re-opened just as suddenly at the beginning of August.

It soon became apparent that the new people were just managers, acting as a stop-gap for the brewery until the pub could be let properly.

Last Monday the new, permanent tennant took over. I didn’t find out about it until yesterday, but today, quite un-expectedly I met the new landlord and his son.

I was making the dinner when I saw a dog running loose in the field. I went upstairs for a better view but there was no-one to be seen in the lane.

We went out to investigate and children’s voices coming from over the hedge in the pub garden, lead us to the conclusion the dog must belong to them. What made matters worse was that the dog had left us a huge, steaming ‘present’ at the side of the field!

Anxious to nip the situation in the bud I went round to speak to the landlord. He was most apologetic and said he understood why I had felt obliged to bring the matter to his attention.

He dispatched his son with a spade and a plastic bag to clear up the mess, promising our first drink will be ‘on the house’. He’ll be lucky. I’d settle for no more dog mess and a quiet life.

We’ve been here before. Not the best start with his new neighbours!