...until you have lived in Midlothian countryside:
Edinburgh housing is currently ridiculously expensive, so all your neighbours are commuters or retired. So, you are living in a suburb, not a 'conservation village'. You spent a month looking for a stone cottage which is 10 miles from Edinburgh and you are still in suburbia...
Slugs.
Wait, there's one farmer left in the 'village' who mostly makes a living out of renting holiday cottages. To people from Edinburgh. Long term.
Seriously, slugs rule.
All your neighbours have multiple children and dogs and want to converse about said children and dogs. Awkward silence often ensues, due to no reference points with a childless cat person.
Slugs in the sink.
There's no shop in the village but there are pilates classes and toddler groups in the village hall. Priorities etc.
Slug sex parties in the kitchen at 4am.
Drivers casually parking across your BIG WIDE DRIVEWAY filled with RED GRAVEL, who look seriously offended when you almost drive in the back of them trying to turn off the road and into YOUR OWN DRIVEWAY. Apparently kicking their cars is also frowned upon.
Suicidal slugs in the washing machine.
You receive very apologetic phone calls from delivery drivers asking for directions, which they will hopelessly misunderstand, so you end up standing on the main road and waving at white vans quite regularly. So far, no serial killers stopped for me.
Confused slugs on the ceiling.
American tourists trying to convince you that your cottage is a restaurant they booked a meal in and trying to walk past you and into your house.
Baby slugs.
There is no proper wildlife anywhere, all the foxes moved to Edinburgh, all the seagulls moved to the nearest rubbish heap, all the hedgehogs learned to stay away from humans and slugs ate everything else. You can look at sheep.
All in all I think I'm approaching the limit of my slug and being a suburbanite resistance...
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