Of Rural Realisation June 9, 2009
Posted by Jen in : Domestic Doings, Journal , trackbackHello. This blog post is coming to you from my wardrobe. No, really. It is. In my new teeny tiny cottage, I do not have a study. So I decided to build one in my wardrobe. Of course, it’s not a real wardrobe – more of a vertical ditch with a curtain across. I even made my desk and used a screwdriver and everything! Thanks, John Lewis, your flat-pack wotsits are pleasantly put-uppable. But half an hour? Half a blinkin day, more like. But I did it, all on my very own. I’ve even treated myself to a power screwdriver. You see? Now that I’ve escaped the cul de sac, I’m more B&Q than Jimmy Choo.
So. I have now been here 10 days and have learnt plentiful things. I have discovered that cockerels actually do perform their cock-a-doodle-doo routines at dawn. The real dawn. Not a gentleman’s dawn. And dawn, I can reliably inform you, is at around 3.50a.m. Every a.m. Not only are there the birds, horses and pigs on the land opposite my bedroom window, on the other side of the house, at the end of my garden are sheep. I know they’re sheep. I’ve seen them. But actually, they do not sound like sheep. They sound like drunk men lying in a field, pretending to be sheep. It is most odd.
I have discovered that I can survive without the internets. I always imagined that, when on Desert Island Discs, I’d have to confess to Kirsty that my luxury item would be a laptop with broadband. But no. I managed a whole week without checking my blog stats. Luckily, lovely non-bf sent helpful texts saying ‘you have had 21 visitors so far and people found your website by searching for woll saucepans, bullet bra, arses and dastardly sentence’. Oh dear.
I have discovered that living here will not automatically transform me into a writing machine; nor find me doing yoga in my undies on my titchy terrace before the world (exc. cockerels, obviously) wakes up; nor be able to manage without my electric blanket (retrieved from box last night and firmly reunited with bed).
But. I have also discovered that if you get out early enough, you might just see two foxes lying with the sheep under the first rays of sun shine. You might just see a huge red hot air balloon wheeze asthmatically over the silent, dewy fields.
Yes. I think I really rather like it here actually.
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Well done on the construction work! Very impressed. And kind of in awe.
Dawn keeps waking me up ridiculously early. I am seeeeck of it. I can’t imagine if there was noise as well as light to stop me sleeping.
I wonder why the cockerels do that? And do they get annoyed in summer when they have to be cock-a-doodling in the middle of the night?
I might come and get drunk and lie in your field pretending to be a sheep. It sounds kinda fun if you can avoid the inevitable sheep poo.
Oh and I saw a hot air balloon over northumberland the other evening. It was magical. I am jealous of you seeing one at dawn
)
Time to stop waffling at you and go to work! x
Yes, this delusional daydreaming can be most disappointing. I thought when I moved to the 25th floor of a sexy apartment in Bangkok, I would drift around it wearing floaty size 8 Ghost dresses to a soundtrack of Frank Sinatra…
Hmmmm, no, it didn’t really work that way.
Good luck anyway. It sounds rurally gorgeous and I’m most jealous.
That’s lovely Jen (apart from the racket) you sound so happy!
teeny tiny cottage… magical landscape… wardrobe… I’ve got it! You’re in Narnia!
No mention of Turkish Delight. That’s good, then.
Sounds fab. Love Queenie’s Narnia comment! Have fun in the country from an urban Jimmy Choo fan.x
I am most impressed with your wardrope putting up!!! Chris and I have now been successfully avoiding the dreaded trip to Ikea for….ohhh about four months!! (which is why we still have no bed or bookcases!!)
Your house and it’s surroundings sound fab…..I sense much wine drinking in the garden in your future!!
C x
It sounds divine. I need to live in the country at some point. Are you having OU withdrawal yet?
I think your teeny tiny cottage sounds most magical and you will indeed soon be a writing machine. And I mean machine in the nicest sense of the word:-)
Wow it sounds gorgeous, even with all the racket going on. And well done on the DIY. I’m afraid I let the side down when it comes to being handy in the home but I like the idea of a powerscrew driver, maybe that’s what I need.
I’m sure the muse will find you soon (she is probbaly being distracted by foxes and hot air balloons on her way over to you)
I SO know what you mean about the sheep noises, in fact I’ve been known to hold forth on the subject for quite some time after walking Molly-dog in the fields around ours in the evenings. I swear they’re NOT sheep at all, so many and varied are the sounds that fill the air. I’ve even threatened to tape them (as in record, not parcel) to prove it.
Anyway. Sounds idyllic (in spite of noisily performing cocks) and living there is bound to trigger machine type writing any second
)
It sounds wonderful to me, especially the bit about the hot air balloon.
Well done with the DIY too. I quite fancy buying an electric screwdriver, but I’d probably only end up hurting myself or damaging something.
Glad you’ve settled in honey. Now mind you don’t go out the back of that wardrobe. Who knows what you might find.
As far as I’m concerned, DIY stands for Destroy it Yourself. I can’t even hang a picture without demolishing part of the wall.
I think you’ll eventually get used to the noises. I live right next to a railway, though not a very busy one. People who come to stay say: “how can you put up with all those trains?” and I say: “what trains?”
I’m jealous of country life. The ruralness, not the butter.
Now I know all about sheep noises and you are actually hearing drunken men in the field. Is there a pub nearby? Keep enjoying it all.
Hope you’ll be very happy in the teeny tiny cottage, which sounds wonderful.
(Sure I said this once but has obviously escaped back to the cul de sac by mistake.)
So now you can take your bucolic work home to your bucolic house. The circle is complete. At least not having the Internet has kept you safe from Lane’s animation sickness.
Foxes lying with the sheep? Is that in the biblical sense? Funny, I thought they were more likely to eat them.
I just had one of those weird sense memories, of a kind of healthy worthy pie they make at the Buddhist Centre in Manchester. Normally you buy it by the slice from the cafe, but I once got them to make me a whole one and then took it away with me to a little cottage in the middle of nowhere where I spent a week writing, all by myself (apart from the dog) and eating a carefully-rationed two pieces of pie per day.
Well anyway, I hadn’t realised it before but it seems the taste of that pie has now come to represent, in my head, any old generic country cottage. Not that yours is generic, I’m sure.
The weird thing is that I can’t remember what flavour it was. I can remember its taste, but it’s a very unidentifiable taste. Vaguely caramelly maybe. And kind of healthy (but not totally). Full of honey.
But never mind all that, I am totally jealous of you and your dawn-crowing cocks (oo-er). I always thought I wasn’t bothered by external aesthetics, being as how I spend so much time indoors and even when I’m outdoors I’m always immersed in my own head and don’t pay attention to much, so I was quite happy living in deprived urban inner-city grime, which I have done for the last 20 years… but recently I’ve begun to think maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to live somewhere pretty.
Is it something to do with turning 40??
Sounds lovely, actually. Nature abounding and such. Like the Captain says, you won’t notice the cocks after awhile.
I love the sound of sheep. That’s not wrong is it? Glad you have settled in so well x
b – I am quite taken with my new screwdrivering skills. There’s really no end to the stuff I’ll be able to do now. Probably. I even lit a bbq today!!
JJ – Isn’t it weird how we think a change in geographical location will change our very essence. And body shape. Hmmmm. Very weird indeed.
Yvonne – I actually quite like the chickens bickering and the horses snorting. It’s like waking up on Animal Farm every morning. One of these days, I’ll actually start understanding them and snorting back…
Queenie – Ugh and ew and yuck! Turkish Delight… noooooooo… even the thought of it makes my knees buckle. Mmm, here, have a huge glob of jelly that tastes like a bunch of flowers. We’ll bung some chocolate round it. That’ll fool the masses. Gah. There’ll be none of that in Narnia, ta very much.
Fionnuala – Jimmy Choo’s all very well but does he do a range of power screwdrivers? No. I think you will find he does not.
Carol – I think there is something funny about my garden that makes wine evaporate? Don’t brave Ikea. All that walking round in formation is never a good thing. Seriously. Just lie on the floor. At least you won’t fall off.
Kate – No OU withdrawal at all! Am toying with buying all the books on the reading list for the next one though. Is that a bit sad?
Lane – No writing machine yet. Maybe next week eh?
Jumbly – I think I’ve got the old muse taped up in a box somewhere. I expect she’ll slither out at some point. Power screwdriver make a very efficient sound. I now have plentiful erections!
Karen – Noisy cocks and sheep that sound like cows, yes. I think you should actually parcel tape them, then fix them to a tree like in old fashioned cowboy films before quizzing them on their identities. I’d like to see that. Perhaps we could make a film about it?
Debs – I can safely say that my DIY-ing has led to a rather sparkling array of miscellaneous bruises. Worth it though. Sort of.
Helen – I do like the idea of my wardrobe leading to a place where I actually get some writing done. But that’s just pure fairy tale. My wardrobe can take me many places but not make me put pen to paper.
Cap’n – Ha! Your last sentence made me laugh out loud. Yes, I’m getting used to them. The only trouble is that, now I know how gorgeous the sunrises are, I have to get up every morning to have a look. Country life is right luvverly. I recommend it.
Sheepish – Aha! The sheep authority. And yes. Pubs: 3. I wonder where they get those sheep suits from though? hey… could you knit me one?
Honeysuckle – I was sure I’d seen a previous comment from you too! Maybe we are going simultaneously potty?
McBobo – Oh no, I have marvelled at Lane’s animated achievements. I too have considered playing with this toy. Not as much as I’ve chortled at the idea of being ‘fitted’ with writing pants though. I think I love Lane a little bit?
Squidgy – Can I call you Squidgy? I always refer to squirrels in such a way. It’s a bit forward, I know. Nope, the foxes did not munch the sheeps. They were outnumbered anyway. It would’ve been a bit greedy, not to mention rude. I think space and pretty are what do it for me these days. Yes, it’s to do with being 40. Probably. But the lively cocks are an added advantage. I blame my hormones.
Liane – It really is lovely! Plenty of nature, mainly landing in my glasses of wine. Bloody flies. Still, I’d rather slurp them with vino than inhale them. Don’t you just hate breathing flies in?
Mandy – I misread that as ‘the sound of sleep’. Which sounded quite groovy, like the title of a poem. I am now going to investigate this sleep. The chickens are quiet… shhhhhh…
I used to have a girlfriend who called me squidgy. Apparently I had a squidgy face.
It was a term of endearment, so no, I don’t mind at all.
Perhaps they’re drunks in sheep’s clothing!
Those flatpack things always take 10 times as long as they say, it’s a wicked plot to make us feel powerless and inadequate.
Glad you like home, you’ll get used to the cockerels!
Hiya. I don’t suppose you do the whole award thingy, but if you do I nominated you in a recent post, so you could call in and collect if you want. Thanks for being inspiring, really.
Squidgy – Your face doesn’t look squidgy at all. Not from here. But I do think ‘Squidgy’ a scrummy sort of name. And it’s easier to spell than ‘Beleaguered’.
Lucy – Drunks in Sheeps Clothing. The title of this week’s novel methinks…
Lizzie – Ooh, hello. I can never figure out how to get the awards on my blog but I do very much like being given one! Aw. I was just about to write a really blah blog post but, um, you’ve made me think twice now. Cheers!
I’ve always thought sheep sound like the House of Commons.
Don’t write off the formidable power of a new place to make a new you. You might gradually find yourself doing yoga – say, inspecting something on the floor and rolling into a headstand before you’re even aware of it, and so on.
And a place as nice as that sounds will woo the words right out of you. You won’t be able to stop them – it’ll be like trying to catch running water in a sieve.
Mike – Yes! The House of Commons, that is SO true! You know, just before I read your comment, I was considering that I actually am becoming a new me. Haven’t done any headstands yet though. Not deliberately, anyhow.