ONE of the advantages of having this column is the response it brings from readers; some agree, others do not, but two recently stand out.

Last Friday, the D&S reported on the service at Kirkby Knowle church when the Rev Toddy Hoare blessed dogs of all sporting varieties. The previous week, I had linked religion and the Hunting Bill, and a reader I met in town took me seriously to task about it.

In the churchyard that morning there were dogs for pheasants, foxes, partridge, grouse, rat and hare. There were horses, too, and afterwards they hunted the hill behind the church. All these animals were joined by people of all ages and ways of life, dressed in brown and green, plus a host of children, some on bikes, others on ponies. I was privileged to be part of that gathering, a sort of cleric, though not in holy orders, commentating on the procession which took place: hunters, fishers, shooters, hawkers, ratters and just simply folk who know, love and understand the ways of the countryside.

We genuinely feel persecuted.

We came from across the politcal spectrum: Labour, Tory, Lib-Dem and of no particular persuasion. As the service finished, I just wished that the anti-hunting politicians could have joined us, for they would have been welcomed, listening at last. Albeit in an old fashioned scene, they would have met a community which understands the balance of the countryside.

I am no expert, but I believe religion sets standards on which to base our lives, bringing balance to communities, families and businesses, forming a structure on which to make best use of both human and natural resources. Land is a multi-use resource, providing food, timber, minerals and water as primary products within which a multiplicity of fauna and flora co-exist. Be it insect, fish, weed, bird or mammal, no species should be allowed to get out of balance.

In the churchyard that October morn was a congregation which, to an individual, understood the countryside. Animal lovers all, tears being shed at the thought of the probable demise of the working hunter, dog or horse, and for the fox which will be commited to an uncontrolled and merciless slaughter. Does the anti understand that deep emotion? Indeed, does he want to?

Another correspondent phoned to call my attention and, she hoped, my pen to rubbish in the countryside. I know only too well what she means. Her anger was finally aroused by the filth of the verges and central reservation of the A1. She rang the county council - not their responsibility; like so many of our essential public services, it had been privatised and the contractors were to blame. The contractors, of course, filter all calls via an answering machine - no response.

At least once a month I drive down a narrow, leafy lane in Warwickshire. It used to be idyllic 15 years ago but, as time has passed, the fly-tipping and burnt-out cars have increased. This is close to Coventry, near the airport and the apparently-doomed Jaguar works; in other words, it is on the urban fringe.

I am certain most readers will have noticed the increase in the detritus of human life on our roads. Furniture, redundant kitchens, electrical goods at the end of useful life, and carpets. As that urban fringe gets closer, the problem increases. A friend, who farms within the sight and sound of one of our regional centres, reports that the most common waste he has to clear on a weekly basis is builders' trash, broken glass, and domestic appliances.

I am proud to say there would not be one person in Kirkby Knowle churchyard that day who would countenance such irresponsibility but, like it or not, this is an extreme example of the gap that exists between the two very separated communities.

In a way, the total rejection of John Prescott by the North-East gives me hope. Perhaps the politbro can be held at bay. If he had succeeded in his quest, taxes would have risen; quality of life would have gone down and our precious resources would have been thrown out of balance beyond belief. The countryside would have been sacrificed to Prescottisation.

Last week I had to go to the city - yes, city - of Milton Keynes for the night. I can remember the talk at the time of its conception of the bringing together of a few market towns and a lot of villages. What a mess, with its boulevards and avenues; the monstrous buildings spread over what was once good food-producing land and, as an aside, the home of the Whaddon Chase. On reading the local paper, I found that the train services to the other City in London were to be cut by 30pc. Some thousands of people have bought homes in this monument to modernity because of lower property prices and a quick route to work. Chaos. Out of balance.

The Deputy Prime Minister is going ahead with developing vast tracts of Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire and Essex to solve a problem that I believe he has not a clue about. He is simply putting millions into the pockets of farmers and wise property speculators, who had the idea long before he did. Think on. You may think I have stretched a point going from a rural minority through the detritus of human life to the Prescott metropolitan dream, but I beg to differ. OK, so hunting can be destroyed by the Disneyworld beliefs of a largely urban majority. Shooting will surely follow, and farming is at a precarious crossroads which will remove once and for all time a lot of the traditional custodians of the countryside. Real rural rundown.

Gordon Brown and John Prescott call the national shots, leaving the Prime Minister to deal with a momentous international crisis. I feel sorry for him. His Cabinet is all the time inventing short-term policies to solve problems of which they obviously have no conception. As a hunter , countryman, animal lover and grandfather, I am horrified and depressed by the rate of rural destruction.