When idyllic village life turns into a noisy nightmare

Telegraph

16-03-2025

Those moving to the countryside in search of an Arcadian idyll, with the sounds of birds tweeting and lambs bleating, are often met with weary sighs by locals who know better. The reality, of course, is quite different.
The kind of people who relocate to rural villages – particularly from bustling cities – are often in search of peace and quiet, only to be disappointed by the area's surprising noisiness. They don't expect to hear the church bells that wake their children, or droning private aircraft taking off from nearby fields.
'People moving out of a city to enjoy the peace and quiet of village life are often surprised by what they find,' says Lindsay Cuthill, co-founder of BlueBook, an estate agency.
'This is particularly true of road noise. These days, cars travel much faster in the countryside where the sound carries further. Tractors are particularly noisy, too. [Some property viewers] climb out of the car, have a listen and say 'no' immediately, and that'll be the end of the viewing.'
The fact is, village life is far from silent. The most popular are those with active communities which include being blessed with a pub, a church and, if very lucky, a functioning cricket pitch. The associated sounds – be it the din of locals gathering for drinks, bell ringers practising peal combinations, or leather on willow – are part and parcel of country living.
It doesn't stop incomers from complaining. In December last year, a newcomer to the Lincolnshire village of Helpringham said that the local church bells chiming throughout the night were keeping him awake – adding that they weren't necessary in the age of phones and watches.
The vicar, Rev Capt Chris Harrington, responded by saying the chimes were part of village life and there was no chance of them being silenced.
Similarly, a villager in Hugglescote, Leicestershire, complained that 9.30am was too early for the church bells to chime on a Sunday. Other residents leapt to defend the practice.
Other noise campaigns have been more successful. A village clock in north Devon that chimed every quarter of the hour, 24 hours a day, was fitted with a silencer meaning it would only sound once an hour between 7am and 11pm, following complaints about the noise.
In other countries, quietness is protected. In Germany, ruhezeit, or 'quiet hours' dictate by law that no one should do anything noisy, such as mow the lawn or use a leaf blower, on Sundays. Apartment blocks in Switzerland explicitly prohibit using the laundry room on Sundays (washing a car is also off-the-cards).
Here, there are limits to the amount of noise that's deemed acceptable during the night hours from 11pm to 7am – but they are often broken and difficult to enforce.
Noise disturbance is governed by the Noise Act of 1996, which gives councils power to address complaints. Any resident who is having problems such as loud music, noisy pubs, rowdy parties or even barking dogs is encouraged to take it up with the local council.
Picky house buyers have led some agents to go to somewhat extreme lengths to gauge potential property sales.
James Shaw, of Prime Purchase, a buying agency, recently attended Sunday Mattins on behalf of a client. 'I wasn't looking for spiritual guidance, but to find out whether my client should buy the Old Rectory next door to the church,' he explains.
'Without sitting through at least one Sunday service, it would have been impossible to get a feel for congregation numbers which might impact the enjoyment of the property or whether bell ringing would be too intrusive.'
It's not just noise that can be a nuisance. James Grillo, director of The Country House Department, an estate agency, says he's come across 'literally hundreds' of buyers during the course of his career who have unrealistic expectations when it comes to finding their perfect house in the countryside.
'I recently sold a wonderful 'Hansel and Gretel' picture book pretty cottage in a delightful position in the middle of farmland to a charming American lady, who 'just had to have it' who, by all accounts, has retreated to America for the majority of the year because it is just so wet and muddy in the British countryside,' he says.
Cricket, another pillar of village life, can also cause problems for those who live nearby. Last summer, a cricket club in West Sussex banned its players from hitting sixes to avoid damage claims from neighbours after balls hit cars, windows, sheds and roofs.
Anyone hitting a ball over the boundary at Southwick and Shoreham Cricket Club scores no runs on the first occasion and is automatically given out on the second.
Meanwhile, the development of a major housing scheme in Yorkshire, which aimed to convert an office building into flats, stalled after a risk assessment raised concerns about flying balls from a nearby pitch. Such concerns, while legitimate, may soon be discounted under government's plans to cut the number of 'statutory consultees' for new-build developments.
Beyond church bells and cricket games, disturbances come in other forms in the countryside.
Residents living near Land's End in Cornwall were advised to buy ear plugs last month, after a week of being disturbed by a noisy broken fog alarm from a nearby lighthouse. The loud beep from Longships Lighthouse is only supposed to be heard during foggy conditions, but had been plaguing residents and visitors with an alert every 13 seconds, according to reports from the BBC.
Aircraft can be another unexpected nuisance. While Concorde's sonic boom has long been a thing of the past after the aircraft was retired from service in 2003 (it regularly broke the sound barrier over the south of England, after taking off from Heathrow), they can still be heard intermittently in the East of England, likely due to the number of military airbases in the region.
According to a recent report by the BBC, the Ministry of Defence paid out almost £10,000 in compensation between 2013 and 2021 for issues caused by sonic booms – mostly for damaged property windows and car windscreens, although one claimant said their fish tank had cracked.
Anyone living on or around the edge of Salisbury Plain, a military training ground in Wiltshire owned by the MOD, has to get used to the sounds of ordnance being blown up, including on Sundays and up to 11.30pm on some other days.
Ownership of private aircraft has also proliferated, and most sunny days see coveys of these taking to the skies to drone over the heads of people trying to enjoy some peace below, warns Robin Gould of Prime Purchase.
Finally, bear in mind that animals wake up early, especially in the summer.
'Cockerels and peacocks, to name but a few, have all ended up in neighbourly fisticuffs,' says Gould.
'Our surveyor had concerns about the church bells – we thought he was joking'
While some aspects of village life may take some people by surprise, properly-prepared residents do manage to find the idyll they'd dreamed of – even with the noise.
Samantha Todhunter is an interior designer based in London with projects spanning the capital, the Home Counties and California. With her husband, David, she bought a beautiful Queen Anne vicarage in 2015 set in an attractive Oxfordshire village.
'As a young man in his twenties, David was whizzing around the county in his open-top MG and screeched to a halt outside what he described as the prettiest houses he'd ever seen. He never forgot it.'
Three decades later, the couple spotted the house for sale and jumped at the chance to buy it.
'It hadn't been touched since 1959, wallpaper was peeling off the walls, lath and plaster ceilings were exposed, there were cracks everywhere and it was Grade II*-listed, so we knew it would be a big project to renovate,' says Todhunter.
Undeterred, the couple pressed ahead with the purchase. They asked a surveyor to look at the house and expected him to come back with a long list of structural concerns, as well as highlighting the fact that there was no central heating and only one bathroom.
'Instead, he asked whether we realised that there was a church right next to the house – he was concerned the bells would disturb us. Of all the things that could put us off buying it, we couldn't believe that was what he highlighted – we thought he was joking at first.'
The sale went through and the family moved into the house in its original condition, using blow heaters for warmth.
It was a few years before they started a renovation programme, during which she injected the house with her trademark boldness for colour and irreverence for staid country-house decorating (in the entrance hall, Diane von Furstenberg's Climbing Leopard carpet sees the animals chasing each other down the treads against a background of turquoise silk walls).
The church bells, including when the villagers come to practice, are part and parcel of the house's charm, says Todhunter.
'The bells are heaven. Besides, I think we're in danger of approaching things where everything has to be perfect and with an attitude that unless all the boxes have been ticked off, you're not getting value for money. It's not a realistic way to live.'
Embracing rural life is about compromise.
When deputy president of the central council of church bell ringers Vicki Chapman was interviewed last year, her advice was clear: 'If you don't like the sound of bells, don't move to a church. They were there first.'