Since I’ve been back in the UK I’ve hardly stopped, spending the week days in the city getting settled and weekends away house hunting. Thanks to the Internet you can spend unlimited hours checking websites “just in case” a new property has been added, or to see whether there is something that you failed to spot last time. My brother, who bought his place a couple of years back, still checks the rightmove site once or twice a week “just to see what’s around”. It’s an addiction.
Though I’ve spent many weekends wandering the hills of the Peak District and stopped off in villages for lunch or a well deserved pint at the end of a 10 mile tromp, I’d never given much thought to where I’d want to live. Or even if a rural setting would suit me.
Weekends give me a glimpse into my new life, and do you know what? I think I’m going to enjoy it. Which comes as a relief as it’s part of The Plan. Though our flat in the city could be really nice if they manage to sort out all the problems , which I can’t see happening before the end of our tenancy (at least the oven is fixed), when the weekend comes I’m more than happy to pack up and head for the hills. I’m a city girl, I always have been. I’ve never lived anywhere with a population of less than 20,000 and that felt bizarrely rural at the time. So though The Plan involved living outside of the city, and it felt right in theory at least, I had a nagging doubt about rural life.
Weekends are still a hectic rush, dashing from one viewing to the next but I manage to fit in a morning run. And that’s what’s convinced me about country life. It’s not just that instead of running through a built up city alongside an arterial road, I’m heading out of the door and within 5 minutes I’m in country lanes with views over the Derbyshire dales. perhaps surprisingly, it’s the people that make the real difference (though the views help a lot). Everyone I’ve met on my run has been really friendly, greeting me with a comment about the weather or how good the terrain is for running. One of the most telling moments was running back down the lane a car appeared from nowhere. I probably should have stopped but the downward motion felt so good I didn’t want to give it up even for a few seconds. So I was pretty happy when the car braked and let me carry on.
But then he turned into the lane and slowed alongside me. My city head told me to not to panic, appear confident and check the road for signs of life. But there was no need - the driver wound down his windscreen and with a smile, told me to keep on going, “you mustn’t stop the exercise, not for anything,” he said and he was off driving down the road. It looks like I’m going to have to swap the city head for a friendlier country approach. Not such a bad thing, I’d say.
