Years ago, if I told someone I came from Cheshire I’d get a blank look. Most non-locals simply didn’t know the county: they’d struggle to pinpoint it on a map and what little impression they had of it generally came down to a handful of things: a plain, some cheese and perhaps a fleeting glimpse of Crewe station through a train window.
Fast forward a few decades and now everyone knows Cheshire. Or thinks they do.
It’s become, in popular myth, a place entirely populated by overpaid footballers living in ostentatious mansions and Real Housewives air-kissing their way round Champagne bars and popping into medi-spas for a few fillers before breakfast.