REPEATS of The Good Life have apparently been a TV hit in lockdown, and it appears to have aged well in sitcom years.

It still makes me laugh anyway.

But I have come to a sobering realisation. I had a girlhood crush on Tom Good and imagined us feeding the pigs together, and darning socks in front of the kitchen range. Now I find Tom rather irritating and a bit selfish.

And self sufficiency no longer looks romantic - just backbreaking and grim.

I’d rather be next door, reclining on a sun-lounger as Jerry fixes me a G&T. Now that’s what I call the good life. Or is it just middle age..?