Badly by rail, superbly by fibre. There is no station in the village and nobody commutes by train. The buses exist, in the sense that stops exist. Almost every home can get gigabit broadband. Connected in the modern sense and stranded in the old one, which is a trade some buyers will take gladly and others will discover in February.
Rail first, because it is quick. The village has no railway station of its own, and under 1% of working residents commute by train, which is what happens when the nearest platforms are somebody else's problem. Buses are thin rather than absent: 13 stops sit within the area, and under 1% of residents use one to get to work. A twice-daily coach service to London runs from the parish, which is a genuinely useful thing to have and also a fair summary of the frequency on offer.
The commute mix tells the real story. Fifty-nine percent of working residents drive, and 27% work from home, which between them account for almost everyone. Eight percent walk to work and 1% cycle. Car ownership follows: 43% of households run two or more vehicles, and 10% have none at all. That last group is doing something genuinely difficult here, and doing it without much help.
The gap between modes is where it gets blunt. The nearest town centre is about 16 minutes away by car and about 43 minutes by public transport, which is the same destination and two different lifestyles.
Broadband is the compensation, and it is a serious one. Gigabit service is available to 98% of premises and superfast to 99%, with nothing at all sitting below the universal service obligation minimum. For a village this size that is better provision than plenty of towns manage.
Mobile follows the same pattern. Coverage from at least one operator rounds to 100% of premises, and 97% get fourth or fifth generation service from every operator, so the network you happen to be on matters very little.
For a working household, that combination points one way. A job that arrives down a broadband line works here without complaint. A job that requires a platform at eight in the morning means either a car to reach one or a different postcode entirely, and the second option is cheaper than pretending otherwise.
Filling in the other modes to that same town centre, the Department for Transport's modelled journey times put it at about 33 minutes by bicycle and about 93 minutes on foot. That walking figure is not a quirk of the modelling, it is the finding. These are national statistics modelled for the area rather than a route from any particular front door, and the same caveat applies to every journey time on this page.
The everyday journeys sort into two tiers. A food store is about 8 minutes by car and about 18 on foot, which is the one errand the village genuinely handles. A doctor's surgery is about 13 minutes by car, 29 by public transport and 63 on foot. A hospital is about 24 minutes by car and 59 by public transport. Employment centres come in at about 19 minutes driving and 21 on public transport. Those figures were modelled in 2019, and while distance to a fixed destination does not change, rural bus services since then have, so the public transport times deserve more scepticism than the car and walk ones.
Current service data confirms the scepticism. Of the 13 stops, 9 carry published service information, averaging 9 scheduled departures across a whole weekday, with 89% of stops running something at weekends and an average of no buses at all in the peak hour. Nine departures spread over a day is a service in the technical sense. It is not a way to get to an office.
One consequence of all that driving: every postcode in the area sits near or above 65 decibels of road noise, the level at which official mapping starts treating road noise as significant, and the loudest band present reaches 75 decibels and above. Rail noise does not register anywhere here, for reasons the first paragraph covered.
Middling is the fair word, provided the two halves get named. The broadband and mobile provision is as good as anywhere, and everything involving movement out of the parish runs through a set of car keys.