! Oh To Be In England...

[The names and some of the details of this report have been changed to protect the identities of the persons involved - Ed.] Yes I'm afraid so. Mr Smith and Mrs Jones from down the road. Five years now. It's Mr Jones I feel sorry for. Though from what I hear... But it's Mrs Smith who really miffs me. We're supposed to be friends, I thought. Not a word, not a hint, these five years. I really feel - betrayed. Of course the men and the women here have a different take on this. Well you'd expect it, considering. (My Jack laughed like a drain when he read the details. Went out early to buy the News of the Screws he calls it.) I think the bastard's envious. Not a word, not a hint. Even the vicar's wife didn't know. At least Catholics have confession. Though of course their parish priests don't have wives... I'm a historian. Was. The village well, the parish pump, market day, after church, coffee mornings... 'Social cohesion in rural communities'. I B.A.- ed on it. Say what you like, gossip keeps a community together. Five years. No, I'm not going round to see her. I feel - betrayed...