I think there is a topic on this very subject in the back pages. Your experiences are very similar to mine, glasses of iced cold lemonade passed over a garden fence and invitation to take the weight of in a pleasant garden setting with refreshments thrown in.
One such invitation stand out in my mind from a very long time ago. I hitched up to Langdale to meet an old school friend, and waited most of a morning. After a quick bout of Pike O Stickle, Pavey Ark and Harrison Stickle in 1hr 55mins as timed by a kind barman, who looked after my rucksack and climbing gear, with a promise to look out for my friend. As I seemed to have been stood up, I decided to hitch down to Snowdonia, where I would stand a better chance of finding a climbing partner.
Around midnight, found me walking along the N.Wales coast road, potential lifts dwindled to zero, so over a wall, not much moonlight, flat patch of grass between some rhododendrons and up with mountain tent; perfect bit of, wild camping, as it is referred to today.
I overslept a bit, strenuous day before, one look out of the sleeve entrance, had me out, like a rat out of a pipe. I was in the middle of some particularly posh caravan park, on an individual pitch and my weekends beer money was in serious peril if I got caught. Everything went into the rucksack in a flash, but my speedy evacuation was stopped by a hail from one of the caravans, with dragging feet I reluctantly allowed myself to drawn closer, then a mug coffee was thrust into hand, the invitation to sit at a breakfast table made and full English was served on a promising summers morning.
As I confided with my friendly hosts, my fears, I was reassured that no daily fees were sought, far too posh, sites on annual subscriptions, places by invitation only. As I walked away, not climbing over a wall, I passed under the lofty portals, entrance to a stately driveway, well fed and with beer money intact.