Firstly – we seem to be spending a lot less. Food is especially much cheaper. Having been brainwashed for years that
supermarkets are what keeps the average Briton from starvation as we would
never be able to afford to feed ourselves from independent retailers, I have
been shocked to find that my meat bill at the local village butcher (who
specialises in locally-grown, outdoor-reared pig meat but seems to sell everything you could imagine including smoked chicken breasts and quails eggs!) is between half and two-thirds of what it
was when I did my weekly shop in the supermarket. My village Co-Op sells many basics at pretty
much supermarket prices. Two farm shops
within a short drive provide almost everything else I need, often at
startlingly low prices. For a few treats
I go to Waitrose in a nearby small town, and in over our first two months I went to
the out-of-town supermarket three times (for things which I have since found I
can buy locally for comparable or cheaper prices). I am not planning to go again any time soon.
My food miles have shrunk.
Firstly because a large proportion of what we eat now is grown and purchased
within a few miles of where we live, and partly because much of my shopping is
done on foot, or just a short drive away, rather than going on an expedition to
the supermarket. I drove a total of 14.5
miles for all the shopping for Christmas and New Year, as against probably well
over 30 last year. And apart from the
Christmas pudding all of my Christmas dinner was grown/raised/shot/made within
20 miles (the pudding was from the Co-Op which is literally round the corner).
I have not managed to get out walking much. There’s just too much mud. Despite my statistically-backed assertion in
a previous post that the average rainfall in Somerset was half that of Wales,
we had hardly unpacked before the region was plunged into floods of biblical
proportions. Serious consideration was
given to building an ark on the lawn, or at least trading in one of the cars
for an inflatable dinghy. Fortunately,
we did not flood here, although many of the fields we can see from the house
were underwater, and the only direct impact on us was the wholesale road
closures during the worst of the flooding, and the disruption to the Paddington
to Penzance train line, which made travelling to London for meetings a little
challenging. However, we are not
complacent – the ground is now so saturated that only a few hours of rain is
enough to create giant puddles on most of the roads, making them impassable in
places, and to send the brook back up over its banks and into the field next
door, to the consternation of the resident flock of Suffolk sheep.
My fears that friends would think that rural Somerset is too
remote to visit have not been borne out.
The diary is filling up nicely!
It would be even better if it stopped raining long enough to be able to
show them around the area...
I seem to be relishing domesticity. No doubt as part of the nesting phenomenon
associated with a new home, I have been baking at least once a week, made my
first ever chutney (having made improbable quantities of apple sauce and Dorset
apple cake, I had to find something else to make with my glut of apples! Actually, it’s turned out well – I used a
recipe from Clivenden from a National Trust recipe book, and it went very well
with cheese and cold meat at Christmas) and indulging in afternoon tea with home-baked
cake most days (curiously, I have also lost half a stone...). Since I finished work I have caught up with
two years’ worth of outstanding mending and dressmaking projects (so I now have
enough clothes to wear, for once!), and am only a few hems away from finishing
shortening all the curtains. I even
decorated a wreath for the front door – bought a plain evergreen one from a
local nursery and then decorated it with pine cones, bundles of cinnamon
sticks, and toadstool ornaments (a traditional Dutch Christmas decoration from
my youth). Despite stout gloves my hands
were shredded by the holly, but it was worth it! Move over Kirstie Allsopp...
I have been making gentle forays into village life,
including a round of craft fairs before Christmas, and going carol-singing,
which I haven’t done for 25 years. I was
much impressed by the generosity of the people we sang for, both in terms of
donations to the Children’s Hospice and in the lavish quantities of alcohol and
nibbles we were provided with! Touchingly,
one family of Polish heritage invited us in for their children to sing Polish
carols to us in return. Lovely.
Although I have not yet got around to setting up the
bird-feeders (if we get really cold weather this will become a priority), there
has been a steady stream of avian visitors to the garden and surrounding fields
– so far, Greater Spotted Woodpecker, jay, jackdaw, blackbird, mistle thrush, robin,
miscellaneous species of tits, goldfinch, heron, pheasant (a very fine cock bird and his
harem of three). The pond attracts birds
who walk across the vegetation to drink and bathe – one robin last week was in
there for about ten minutes, having a very thorough splash around! I am assured that there are also green
woodpeckers and kingfishers nearby, and I have heard tawny owls. Circling buzzards are a regular sight from
the upstairs windows – very much a signature bird of the Quantocks.
Although (not entirely surprisingly under the circs) I am
feeling fairly exhausted by the events of the last few months, I think this has
been a good move. I have found a home
with the local Quaker Meeting, which has given me time and space to find some
equilibrium in what has been in some ways a somewhat disorientating experience,
and helps to keep me focussed on the idea of simplicity and being attentive to
the essential. I am meeting some very
interesting people and making contacts which could result in exciting
possibilities for art and life. And
above all I am making some time and space for myself, to re-connect with what
makes me tick, which is at this point what I need more than anything else.
