A press release landed in my email inbox on Sunday timed to make the newspapers by Monday morning. It relates to one of those polls commissioned to benefit those commissioning it. This one was initiated by Travelodge to find out what Britons feel and know about the countryside. The survey ‘reveals’ that over half the nation thinks the countryside is boring because there is nothing to do or see.

Three thousand people represented the views of the nation and they also came up with these ’startling facts’:

Thirty two per cent of Brits had difficulty identifying a pheasant.
Twenty two per cent of respondents could not identify a hare.
One in ten adults thought it was a deer.
Twelve per cent of adults thought a stag was a reindeer.
One in ten adults could not identify a sheep.
Forty two per cent of Brits could not identify an otter.
A fifth of adults could not identify a weasel.
Eighty three per cent of adults could not identify the common bluebell.
Forty four per cent of respondents could not identify the popular oak tree.
Seventy four per cent of Brits could not identify a horse chestnut tree.
Seventy one per cent of respondents could not identify a pine tree.

I did my own survey: I can’t identify anyone from Strictly Come Dancing; I can’t name one song by Take That; I’ve never played on a Wii game; I don’t know what Pot Noodle tastes like; I’ve never watched more the 15 seconds of Big Brother; I can’t text or use MSN; I’ve never thought of going to Benidorm. And yes, I’m extremely happy that boring people stay away from the countryside.

Are there any really wild places left in England? That is a question I was asked last week. Well actually there are - they might not stretch for as far remote areas in other countries but those who venture outside the politicians’ countryside of the Home Counties will find England’s wild land exists in several places. Exmoor, the Pennines, Northumberland and the Borders all contain inhospitable acres where Man plays only a small part. This week I travelled to the bleak moorland above Arkengarthdale, which includes Sleightholme Moss, in the northern dales of Yorkshire. Anyone who has traversed the Pennine Way will be well aware of these moors, as the long-distance footpath cuts across a corner of this blanket bog and heather moorland. Merlins and golden plovers can be found later in the year; I saw only lapwings and grouse but the absence of small birds made think that predators patrolled the area. Purely in the interests of being thorough in my investigations of the region, I called in at Tan Hill Inn, England’s highest pub. Drovers and lead miners would have used this isolated hostelry at one time, now Pennine Wayfarers and tourists keep the ale flowing. The views, like the landscape and the beer here, are spectacular. Let me know of the really wild areas where you live.

This week I was asked for my thoughts on the countryside for a documentary to be screened on BBC later in the year. I went off on one about second homes, which as some of you might already know is a speciality gripe of mine, and the building of new houses in rural areas. My rantings will probably be cut anyway, so here I go on the blog. On the drive back home from filming on the beautiful Hambleton Hills on the edge of the North York Moors, across the Vale of York and back into the Dales, I passed through many villages where For Sale boards indicated the only sign of life. If, as we’re led to believe, city people are wanting to move into the countryside then I saw little evidence of them snapping up the more expensive properties in this part of the country. Maybe these people only want to experience the country idyll half a dozen times a year, so they are buying up the cheaper properties and using them merely as self catering holiday homes. Unfortunately this is forcing local younger buyers to look elsewhere and persuading the government to think that a lot more housing is needed when actually it’s fairer distribution of wealth that’s required?

I received a letter at the magazine this week in which the writer described his address as Oakham, Rutland. Good for him, I thought. A man after my own heart, sticking with worthy belligerence to the traditional counties. I’d never really considered what residents of other counties felt about the great shake-up of authorities back in 1974. Here in Yorkshire all hell broke loose and in many parts of the county the battle continues with vigour. Some politicians of the day back-tracked a little following the initial outcry by stating that the historical counties would remain as they had done for centuries and that the new ‘boundaries’ were for administration purposes only. It’s not really worked out like that though has it? And successive governments have probably just thought (or hoped) the ‘problem’ will go away over time. Not while grumpy old men like me and my letter writing friend are around. I once asked the Post Office if I needed to write ‘North’ Yorkshire in my address (because as far as I’m concerned I still live in the West Riding of Yorkshire and our office is there, too). A spokesman said that it was not necessary as long as the post code was included. But then as an aside, or maybe a dig at me, he added that some of the younger sorters have no idea where the Ridings are so without a post code they’re lost. Anyone else still got a passion for the traditional counties?

There was a request placed in a recent local parish magazine asking for anyone with suitable spare land to give it up for allotments. Not that it would be of interest to me… I have enough trouble finding time to look after a garden the size of a kingsize bed. But this move back to allotments is interesting. In the 1940s there were 1.4m allotments in the UK, utilised to help feed a nation coping with war. Today there are around 300,000 but around 100,000 would-be Toms and Barbaras are on the waiting list to join the Good Life. This time though the reason is not due of food shortages but a combination of people’s mistrust/dislike of today’s food and cost. What is also interesting is a shift in demographics… allotments were once mainly the domain of the working classes - now the shout for more plots arises from Middle England. Even the National Trust, I hear this week, are creating around a thousand allotments at 40 locations around the country.
Victorian entrepreneur and benefactor Sir Titus Salt provided the allotments shown in my photo for the workers at the enormous mill and village, Saltaire, he built in what was once countryside outside Bradford in Yorkshire.