Creeping round the rural fastnesses of East and West Sussex this year, I have realised the truth of the old saying that the rich are not like the rest of us.

They are more numerous and less stuffy than they were a century ago but they are rarely seen.

Walking along footpaths or cycling down country lanes, you are more likely to spot a fox or a deer than posh people who live in big houses.

You might occasionally catch a glimpse of them in their gardens through gaps in the hedges, or see them swishing along roads at speed in their four-wheel drives, but little more.

The rich have fled headlong from towns to the country in the last 30 years because it is more spacious and private. A few are left in posh suburbs such as High Salvington in Worthing and Meads in Eastbourne but they have largely left their old seafront haunts.

While there are signs of a new invasion of the centre of Brighton by metropolitan trendies, most of the big money has settled in seclusion in Cuckfield, Cowfold, Steyning, Storrington and other villages.

It is possible for these people to enjoy pretty private lives. They usually have enough land for their houses to be out of sight from all but the nosiest visitor.

Most of them drive everywhere, so they are not seen in nearby villages. And they never, ever travel by bus.

Their children are ferried to private schools where they meet only pupils with similar lives to their own.

They shop on the internet and, if they make forays to supermarkets, these tend to be agreeable stores on the edge of towns like Lewes and Chichester.

If they eat out, it will usually be at those former country pubs which are now more restaurants than bars because they are so much more profitable.

They will seldom, if ever, make forays into big cities such as Brighton and Hove because of addicts and vagabonds but, most of all, parking problems.

Occasionally they will open up their gardens for charity under the excellent national scheme operating from March until October each year.

But I have noticed that people owning the larger estates are usually never seen even at these events, preferring to arrange for staff to be present.

You will see them at their own private festivals such as Ascot and Henley where the hoi polloi rarely intrude. I have been lucky enough this year to be a spectator at two of them.

One was an England against Australia Test match at Lord's where I have not seen so many fat old men in blazers since I left school and the other was at Glyndebourne, which was fairly rattling with jewellery.

It's odd that, in this age, so many people can live even more secretive lives than those of the gentry a few generations ago.

After all, lord and ladies of the manor were usually known to most of their considerable domestic staff and would be noticed if walking about or being taken into town by pony and trap.

These days, the rich are more likely to have just a single au pair and a car.

There are times when mixing with the rest of us is unavoidable. It happens when kids want to go to town for nightlife.

A tradesman or woman may be essential to mend the boiler or rethatch the roof. But for many, the most likely contact will be the burglar.

To quote an old song, I don't envy the rich in their automobiles. I would hate to be rather removed from real life.

There are frustrations in city life and times when you tire of seeing crime but it's more interesting than the rural idyll.