Since 1951, when my parents bought a hill-farm on Exmoor, I have regarded the remote Exe-river valley where I am writing this article as my real home. It is about as far from the Westminster bubble as you can get. I like to spend August shut away in a centuries-old Somerset longhouse, ‘far from the madding crowd'.

I only leave the valley if I absolutely have to. The Exford Horse and Exmoor Pony Show, held on high ground overlooking our valley, is a ‘not-to-miss occasion’. As I wandered earlier this week among the tents and stalls, I found myself being greeted with enthusiasm by people I hadn’t seen for years. Could they have been watching the latest episode of The Real Marigold Hotel, I wondered? Had they tuned in to I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here?

We all of us have our little vanities and recently I have been rather taken with the idea of having some kind of reality-TV career. At my age (I will be 78 next week – August 18 to be precise) you have to do something.