I CAN just about accept a Guardian journalist s description of the Fens when he blathers on about cabbage fields stretched taut to the horizon, and drainage ditches march across black, peaty soil. And possibly there s nothing offensive, but maybe preten

I CAN just about accept a Guardian journalist's description of the Fens when he blathers on about "cabbage fields stretched taut to the horizon, and drainage ditches march across black, peaty soil."

And possibly there's nothing offensive, but maybe pretentious, about there being "something stubborn and unchanging about the flat, bleak landscape of the Fens."

I even smiled when the writer spoke of villages "with names such as Three Holes and Tipps End straddle lumpy roads that threaten to deposit careless drivers into ditches."

But I draw the line and his alleged discovery of "hand-painted signs propped outside bungalows offering 'for sale - lop-eared rabbits.'"

I've hunted high and low and never discovered one such sign. Any clue where's he talking about?