Holiday home owners come in all guises, says Isabel Morton

PICTURESQUE THATCHED cottages, climbing roses framing the half door, fresh country air, brisk walks, roaring fires, country pubs, crashing waves and sand between your toes. Such are the dreams of escaping the hustle and bustle of city life to your own cottage in the country.

Now that the magnolias have flowered and the clocks are on summer time, the urban exodus will commence. Your relaxing weekend in the country usually consists of a mad dash to beat the Friday traffic, arriving exhausted, spending Saturday cutting the grass, fixing the leaking radiator and laying traps for the mice, enjoying breakfast and a walk on Sunday morning before packing up and dashing home to get organised for Monday.

Weekends away can also be sabotaged by the children's social diaries. Pencil in a date and they will announce an extra ballet class, an important rugby match, or their best friend's birthday party. Relaxation requires relentless planning.

And then, there is the little matter of guilt. Add together the cost of your mortgage, general maintenance and the newly thatched roof and divide by the number of days you actually spend in your rustic rural retreat and you could discover that you could fly your entire family first class to the Bahamas three times a year.

The notion of "getting away from it all" can mean different things to different people.

Some, who were born in the country and couldn't wait to get away when in their teens, return regularly as soon as they notice that their own children are growing up as city slickers.

They build modern houses on the family land and talk wistfully of retiring. They rarely consider renovating their grandparents' old cottage as it reminds them of the bad old days. Their "country house" will be modern, decorated in bright colours and have numerous extra-large windows and sliding patio doors. They visit frequently but studiously avoid getting too involved in rural life.

Then there are the academic and arty Dubliners, who are perhaps first or second generation country people, but have no real family connections in any one place. They like to buy derelict cottages in remote and invariably unfashionable areas and rebuild them using eco-friendly materials.

They only invite like-minded academics for brief visits, and make sure that their guests do not become too comfortable by involving them in various activities such as planting trees, digging potatoes and sorting problems with the septic tank.

Their "country place" will be shabby, dark, unkempt, covered in dog hairs and books and painted in sludgy historic colours. They do however, become more countrified than the locals and go to endless lengths to immerse themselves in the physical aspects of rural life.

The "D4 Diaspora" has quite a different view of country living, depending on their interests and occupations.

Many "pop down" to Brittas for the three-month (private) school holidays. The husbands are doing well, but not well enough to abandon their jobs for the entire summer, and Brittas is close enough to drive up and down from Dublin, every day if necessary. Many of them, however, suddenly become very busy in the office during that time of the year and are frequently forced into staying in the city overnight.

The designer-clad, tanned and toned yummy mummies are delighted to have an excuse to spend months playing golf and tennis, gossiping with the girls and having entertainment on tap for their children, in the form of nice little friends staying nearby. As per their Dublin homes, the location of their chalet is all important. Unlike their Dublin homes, the interior décor is irrelevant.

The Foxrock and Mount Merrion set has their family rooms booked from year to year in Kelly's Hotel, Rosslare, where they enjoy a week or two of luxury a year. Self-catering breaks in purpose-built holiday homes or, worse, mobile homes, are not their style. They enjoy dressing for dinner in the happy knowledge that their children are being entertained elsewhere or monitored in their rooms.

Only D6 barristers can risk taking their holidays in the outer peninsulas of Kerry, in the sure knowledge that they will not be called back to the courts. Minus wigs and gowns, their orations can be heard throughout August in every pub in the Kingdom.

Irish rural retreats are invariably supplemented with holiday homes abroad, as one can never guarantee the weather and one just has to get away every now and then. But that's quite another story.