Tag: countryside

On The Road Again

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“See it. Say it. Sorted” says a message on the loud speaker after telling passengers to report anything suspicious. Don’t get me wrong there have been situations involving public transport in the past but the constant need to remind people of the fear they should be in, the potential that there could always be something to look out for, makes me far uneasier than any possible – I’m assuming terrorist – danger does.

I just missed my mouth slightly and spilt beer on my face mask. We can add that to the drawbacks list. I’ve never quite understood why when drinking alcohol is illegal in outdoor public places, on buses, even as a passenger in cars apparently; it is perfectly fine to drink on a train. I can only assume it has something to do with them being able to sell alcohol themselves and it being impossible to regulate train beer from carry on beer. Maybe it’s just a throwback to dining carts. I’m not complaining. Few countries in the world seem to allow such things and I see it as a genuine positive of what is already probably my favourite form of transport. I’ll take a bus if I have to, I’ll avoid the train if it’s too expensive and I’ll take the plane if it makes more practical sense but there’s still something I enjoy about a train that I’m yet to put my finger on entirely. Comfortable, fast, easy, goes through scenic areas. Maybe I should go on one of those long train journeys like the Trans-Siberian or across America, the Andes, Australia and anywhere else that begins with ‘A’.

Despite spending the last few months delivering bread and working in a bakery and pizza shop I seem a little more nervous about this virus though. The little Northumberland seaside village and the Scottish countryside of my parents feels like a little bubble I’ve stepped out of. I’ve gone south where bad things happen. I’m now in the real world. A world with dangers.

I can still only smell beer. This is going to make me paranoid. Is it me, do I stink of beer or is it simply a drop on my mask leading to a false reading. I’m not sure if I can spend the next twelve hours breathing beer fumes.

I’m on the move again then. Off to Greece. I’ve mentioned it previously but I doubt anyone reads every post every day so this is me informing you all I’m off to Greece. I had a short break in Dublin over Christmas but it does feel like I’ve not been abroad for a year now. This virus really has made us change our way of existing. I’m a little nervous actually and I’m curious how I’ll feel about it. I have a habit of wishing for the sedentary life when I travel a little too much and the travelling life when I’m in one spot for too long. Considering it has been a long time since Christmas and an even longer time since my last adventure, the wishing became a slight insanity.

It can be hard to leave though. We become comfortable and after all these years I do wonder if maybe I am getting a little old for all this. Ten years ago I did meet people in their thirties just starting out so perhaps age has little to do with it. We just experience things in a different way. I do find it harder to leave my parents each time though, especially now in this present virus related fear period. I don’t give a shit about potentially suspicious packages, I give a shit about my loved ones coming into contact with a deadly virus. Leaving them at the train station questioning whether it will be the last time I’ll see them but knowing I have to leave regardless. The truth is, life goes on. The whole world ground to a halt for a few months once already and now we just have to get on with it. It is easy to blame the economy and capitalism but it’s human nature. We can’t stand still. Sometimes it’s not always easy though.

Burnt Horticulturalism

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Today then is a little horticultural update. An update on my failed venture into horticulturalism to be precise. Interestingly enough too on a side note, horticulturalism doesn’t appear to be a word which surprises me. If a horticulturalist is someone who practices or is learning gardening and plant management lets say, then if they believe in the theory of gardening as some kind of ideology or movement then surely it must be capable of being an ‘ism’. Surely horticulturalism could be a theoretical approach to fighting the slide into a climate catastrophe, a belief that gardening could save the world perhaps. It’s probably not a far fetched as it sounds depending how it’s worded.

I decided to use the power of the internet and there are suggestions it might just be a word. According to dictionary.com there is no such word but wiktionary.org – I know anything beginning with wik should be immediately dismissed but humour me – suggests it is a synonym of horticulturism, which dictionary.com also suggests isn’t a word, not that dictionary.com is necessarily the most respected of dictionary sources, and that it means ‘a small scale agricultural lifestyle’ which sounds about right. Interestingly apparently in psychology it is ‘the idea that people do not need explicit instruction from others in order to develop cognition, but can be nurtured to develop cognition individually’, in other words they can develop cognition in the same way a plant can grow or garden can develop.

I seem to have digressed massively to the point that this entire piece has little to do with the failed attempt at nurturing a few plants I was originally going to share. I have one chilli plant, one red skin pepper which is basically a chilli too and an aubergine plant. They were coming along well enough considering they have been living on the inside of a window ledge and not a garden but recently I discovered they had caught plant lice, more commonly known as aphids. These little fuckers multiplied and I could tell my poor babies were suffering to the point something needed to be done. When my rainbow chilli plant travelling companion in Australia got aphids I simply left it on the roof of my car most of the day and the ladybirds did their ravenous job but inside here is different. I read that you can wipe diluted washing up liquid on the leaves but I decided to attempt another method I read about instead. Apparently if you dilute vinegar you can spray it on the plants and the aphids will leave. It turns out all you do is burn the leaves, kill the flowers, weaken your plant and make your room stink of vinegar. As you can see from the picture it has been a resounding failure. I plan tomorrow to offer them up to my mother who has a garden in the countryside and who can hopefully nurture them back to life with the help of the local ladybirds. It is like the plant version of retreating to the countryside to convalesce. They need nursing. They need recovery. This will certainly be used as an example of something profound when this finds it’s way into the future theory of horiculturalism. Step as Marx and Friedman, there’s a new player in town and he’s armed with compost.

A Ramble Through Little

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I was doing so well living the life of oblivious bliss. No news for ten days, suddenly the world felt like a beautiful place. When you have no idea what is going on outside of the bubble you live in on a daily basis then things can very easily start to appear relatively calm. It helps that the bubble is a small seaside village and despite peoples best attempts at creating them, there are few genuine regular issues worth being demoralised over. That doesn’t mean things don’t happen but certainly little worthy of national attention let alone global and geopolitical. Saying that in places like this all you have to do is scrape below the surface and you’ll find something worth getting carried away with. It does explain the propensity for gossip in places like this though.

It’s interesting to see how we respond to moments of drama. I know I could live in a small village and life would be relatively stress free, likely it would be safe and although there wouldn’t be many people around I would know enough of them to not experience loneliness. Living in a city is far more exciting, there are things to do, places and people to see and there would be enough action to absorb you attention as required. Life though would probably be more intense and potentially more stressful, also in my experience far more lonely than any small village I’ve ever lived in. I’ve never quite understood that, and suspect the lonely feeling in cities is something born out of not being brought up in one and knowing how really to exist within them.

Perhaps a balance between the two. Always a balance. Always a fence to sit on. A sleepy but interesting and cultured city beside the sea. That’s the dream. I imagine if that existed so many people would have moved there in search of it they would destroy it in the process. It’s like being a tourist and wanting to visit the idyllic spots and being oblivious to the fact your presence helps in destroying any sense of idyllic you once had. We just can win. But we should never give up. What kind of life would that be. Too busy, too noisy but never settle. Or does that just miss the point for acceptance and appreciating what you have. Perhaps that’s for another time when I fancy another little ramble. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again.

When Will Saturday Come

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It’s Saturday. Thought I would stumble out of bed a little hung over, not too much, just a enough to create edge. Have my breakfast which is more relaxed than the mid week one but fundamentally the same, I leave the dirty sexy breakfast for a Sunday. While eating plan all the semi-productive things I would like to accomplish for the day before leaving for the supermarket, ticking that off the list but being exhausted enough upon return that the list get scrumpled up and thrown in the fire which I made to sit in front of feeling like a wild man as the football results come in. Secretly I’ve quite enjoyed this lockdown, mainly because I’ve not really been locked down I imagine, but there are certain old habits and routines I miss. I enjoyed those semi-busy Saturdays. I long for the return of the football. And I’m currently not in the same house as the fireplace unfortunately. If that all sounds hard then don’t even get me started on the pleasures of a Sunday morning drinking coffee and reading the newspapers as my dog sits beside me and I’m surrounded by countryside. It’s pointless longing for things we cannot have but it’s good to be able to see the things we really value when they’re not there. I quite fancy a pint as well. Don’t give a shit about much us though. Although a holiday would be nice.

I miss my dog. She lives with may parents these days which is good for her because they live in the countryside and it forces them to go on walks everyday. People don’t appreciate the value of pets I don’t think. I can’t see her at the moment though because while I deliver food to my parents, I don’t let her see me because I won’t be staying and she won’t understand why I’m leaving so quickly after coming back. Poor girl. Poor me too. There are going to be some parties when this is all done. It’ll be a while until the pubs are open I reckon and people will be warned off getting together too much too soon but lets be honest, folk are going to go wild. We’re like school children at the best of times let alone when we’ve been stuck inside, away from everyone, sober and being healthy for what must feel like an eternity. I can’t wait for the outcry from the media, front pages of people having fun. Probably the same papers which will be a week earlier pushing for the end of restrictions. Theres nothing like a short memory.

I’m tired today. I was woken up early and now I need to go to work. I’m attempting to write this early now instead of tonight when I get in. It’s strange, sometimes late at night I get my best ideas. Maybe I should give up on being a morning person and accept life as a night owl. They usually seem happy. A little white and sickly maybe, but happy enough. But not tonight, this is certainly not going to be an old Saturday night. When I’m tucked up in my bed before midnight I guarantee there’ll be no nostalgia from me. I love you all. I’ll see you tomorrow. Fresh, awake, invigorated, just like an awful morning person should be.

The Countryside In Quarantine

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Another beautiful sunny day outside. How much I would have enjoyed spending Easter up north in Scotland somewhere. Whenever anyone has every asked me about the homeland I’ve always suggested April, May too but it usually rains more in May. It seems so trivial to be desiring nature and complaining about being deprived of it when people are dying. Don’t get me wrong I’m not about to suggest we should all start embracing nature and rural communities. I am originally from a rural community and I’m aware these people are not overly keen on city folk at the best of times let alone when they’re bringing virus’ with them. One of my childhood neighbours is currently bang in the middle of lambing season, well actually more towards the end probably, but just imagine one of them had caught it. Who knows what they would have done. That lamb chop has to come from somewhere. The other issues if a lack of local GPs and the only real hospital in the area is over half an hour away from my parents and while it’s a decent size it wouldn’t be capable of dealing with a local epidemic. I’m never one for pandering to official advice and while I have no real issue with people sitting in the park, I do with them moving around the country spreading this virus.

On the other hand I was looking at the local Facebook group for the village I’m in currently and someone had posted a photo of a camper van complaining about people coming to visit. It’s a tricky one here because this little village by the sea would be nothing without tourism which many people seem to have forgotten in their outrage. There were a few outraged comments before someone finally popped up and informed everyone it was a local guy who lived three doors down from him. It’s always a wonderful moment when outrage gets put back in it’s place. The post was deleted but subsequently replaced by a post replete with photos, complaining about dog poo in the park. So city folk, we clearly have enough to deal with already in these places. Perish the thought if Doris had stood in that, think of the outrage.

There was another post which drew my attention though and it was a meme for how the government was paying you to sit in your garden, drink beer and have a nice time, or something along those lines. So with all this talk complaining about people going into nature, it is important to raise awareness of all those without gardens, or fields, or front drives, or anywhere they can go outside without being accosted by some angry do gooder or some policeman with ticket book in hand. Can you imagine being stuck on the twelfth floor of a tower block, or in a one bedroom apartment, or in a flat share with flatmates you don’t like, or even in an abusive relationship. Nothing is ever black and white, lockdown is not the same for everyone and this virus is not the great leveller is has been described as. So share a thought for these people when you criticise others getting a little sunshine in the park or going for a walk. Just don’t walk too far into the countryside is all.