If you've been here a while - and even if you haven't, it probably feels like you have - you may be wondering if my life has improved any since we moved house. I mean, all I do is moan, and I certainly moaned a heck of a lot about why we had to move from the old house... but are things any better?
The truth is, I hope so, although the renewal of lockdown and everything that brought with it, so soon after our move, has made it difficult to judge... and I don't want to jinx it or speak to soon.
But I will tell you one thing I like a lot about our new house: the night bus.
We now live on the edge of open countryside, the top of the hill where the houses give way to moors and farmland. Very similar to the place I grew up, but that was on a main road too, and as I grew older, traffic grew heavier. The last house, the horror house, was on an estate, a cul de sac, so no passing traffic... but as you'll remember, that didn't mean it was particularly peaceful.
This new house though, being located where it is, we get local traffic, the odd tractor, but no big lorries - they'd be lost if they ended up here. The road we side onto is the highest edge of the circular village bus route though, and a double decker passes every twenty minutes or so from early in the morning till late at night. Virtually empty these days, of course, but there's still something strangely reassuring about hearing it rumble and hiss past. It actually brings me a tremendous sense of comfort whenever I hear it, and when I tried to express this to Louise, she said she understood, that she felt something similar. Lying in bed, hearing it go by, whether early or late... you feel connected. Maybe in this disconnected world, that's something to cling onto.
Here's a song that sums up how I feel about the night bus, even though it's actually about trains...
I understand totally. It's one of the main reasons I couldn't live 'in the sticks'. I tried to articulate it here.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was growing up our house was opposite a field and at the end of that field ran the main London to Edinburgh east coast line; we would see trains all day long. It made you feel connected.
Several years ago they they built on that field (they always do); now when I go and visit my dad I can't see the trains. There's a metaphor in there somewhere.
When we were buying our house the surveyor pointed out that you could hear the trains from the nearby railway line and hoped it was not a negative.As far as Mrs CC was concerned it was a positive.
ReplyDeleteI live on a city bus route and I get what you mean about the sound of the buses passing by being reassuring. Just weird to see only a handful of people travelling on them.
ReplyDeleteWas wondering how the new abode was panning out so glad to hear there are some positives. I get what you mean about the buses and trains though - It's a comforting white noise. Let's hope the buses start to fill up a bit more soon.
ReplyDeleteGlad too to hear about the positives of your new location. I do love a good double decker (preferably riding top, front) and can understand what you mean. This reminds of an artist friend (sadly now departed) who lived in the ground floor flat of a converted Georgian house in town which had a very tall front window; he'd hung a net curtain across from about a quarter of the way down to stop pedestrians seeing in but the top part was just clear glass. He used to like looking out as he sipped his first coffee of the day, straight from his bed, no need to wear any clothes - nobody could see him from pavement height after all. Until one morning there were roadworks and a double decker stopped right outside. I believe the old ladies on the top deck rather enjoyed their private view!
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