7th June 2015
A warm sunny day, a cool breeze floating in through my window. Gentle yet excitable tweets from the birds in the trees… Yes, the great outdoors was teasing me. Hinting for me to go outside and play, and given that it seemed like my best offer since my runaway trip to Devon, I felt obliged to give in…
It has been an awful long time since I have gone for a walk in my hometown, and I have to admit, it was glorious. I was fortunate enough to only wear my floral blouse and skinny jeans, but I had put my cardy in my bag, along with a chocolate bar and my notebook… I like to go prepared on outings.
I walked out of my drive, down my road and turned on my music and it was then, I let myskelf smile at the beautiful place I am in. I have spent so many months cooped up in a small city centre flat, with no garden, no sunshine, no plants or people you knew and could wave to as you walked down the road. But I had that today. I had the sun on my back, I had the friendly people to wave to and greet, I had the beauty of peoples gardens, the flowers and trees… The beauty of homeowners houses and I had the feel of village life. And after spending so long in the dirty, noisy and unsociable city, I surprised myself by thoroughly enjoying every minute of it.
I’ve always thought of myself as a city girl, always wanting to move there. Even up until recently I’ve wanted to up sticks and settle down in the high-rise, wanting to immerse myself in the busy hubbub of the streets, the noise of people going from one building to another. I think I was hoping that if I could surround myself with all that busyness, I wouldnlt feel lonely. Completely ignoring of course the hidden dangers of pollution, street crime and the realisation that no one, no one in the street you’d be walking down would give two hoots about your existence. And I ask myself, now, is that what I really want? Do I honestly want to end up somewhere I could feel surprisingly lonely? Somewhere that gives you a false sense of belonging but in harsh reality, only serves as a horrifying daily reminder at how insignificant you are.
Because I’ve had the alternative. I’ve come from a background of everyone knowing who you are, caring about how you’ve been ( or at the very least, pretending to) and I’ve had the safety of walking down the street and feeling relatively assured that at some point on your walk home, you’ll see someone you actually know, and half like! … I’m pretty sure you don’t get that in the city!
But, my next predicament, is that after all that’s happened, after everything I’ve been through, would I prefer to be anonymous for a while? Would I rather be away from all the prying people, all the nosy parkers, the curtain twitchers who will eventually start to ask how my romance is going? Hows the love life! How’s things with T? Why haven’t you moved yet?
And I have to stand there and politely, (because quite frankly despite inner feelings, I have no other option) and explain that there no longer is a romance and I’m certainly not moving in with anybody!
The words tragic, humiliating, painful and hopefully avoidable spring to mind!
So, I need to go to a place where I can have that beauty I described, that nurturing, friendly environment… At the same time as possessing a ton of anonymity! Where I go, no one would have to know about what has happened, no one would know I’d been on the brink of moving in with a boyfriend, talking about marriage & children and planning a future with a dog called Pippa…
And I’d be away from him, memories of him and what we’ve had, and I’d have no risk of bumping into him and ending up feeling how I felt the last time I saw him, (when he told me it was really over), like a love sick puppy who’d just met the love of her life, butterflies and all! You see, I’d be free. Or something very close to it. I can’t escape from my memories though, or my thoughts. But being in a different town, a different county, might just help me along the way.
Yesterday, I asked… I don’t know, I guess the universe, to give me a sign if I should seriously consider moving to the seaside… And this morning, when I arrive at my grandparents house, the picture on their calendar is of Clovelly, North Devon, with a row of beautiful houses rolling down to the ocean.
I leapt on that picture like a woman possessed, much to the amused but unsurprised look from my granny… For my Granny knows better than anyone that when I get an idea in my head, very little gets
in the way of making it happen and it generally consumes my entire brain until it either works out or I come to a reluctant conclusion that it’s impossible.
However, this little lifesaving fantasy can’t fail, it can’t be impossible.
I see it now, headliner for my village newspaper… “”Heartbroken village girl Amy sets sail to South coast on a brave solo mission to restore faith in life and all it has to offer… And sets up shop in the local cafe too, where she’s proven a success with the locals… She’s the most sought after woman on the South coast!”
But that’s just in my head of course… *clears throat* moving on…
Anyway, my big idea is taking shape nicely in my head and I just need to come into an awful lot of money to pull it off. And I’m sorry to say it, but I’m not going to lie, I have considered… Doing one of those lottery things. Hey, I need a lot of money for my plan, my vision. I have no sugar daddy or stock share to go running to, I’m running this dream solo here.
And it’s up to me to source the finances for it. In the meantime, I start some sort of training. And a trip into town this week will help me get started very nicely…
Well, I’m off to ponder this project over an icecream, and possibly a glass of wine. No no, just kidding… I don’t have wine in the house.
I must make ‘notes to self about this’…