Living in the country.......What they dont tell you!

Now ive never really thought of myself as what you would call a townie in the country, ive always lived on the countryside's doorstep. Ive played in it and hunted in it. What could possibly be so different now that ive moved into it?

The place was a mess...i mean a REAL mess. But nothing could ever dampen my enthusiasm or ever spoil the idylic life i now had.
There is a rookery just across the road. Id never really been around a rookery for any length of time. The wonderfull way they greet each other when they come home to roost, the wide range of noises they make...some of them rather funny and i would find myself quietly chuckling away. What a wonderful family they make.
The long eveninings are now here, and the weather is now warm enough to want to sit in my garden after a day trying to sort it, planning how its gonna eventually look and just generally chill. But unfortunately with the longer evenings and warmer weather the chicks arrive and with the chicks an increased level of noise. Now whilst sipping my glass of wine or cup of tea my minds strays from the garden and my plans, to how it would be possible to burn down the trees the rooks inhabit, would anyone think it was me if i poured a can of petrol around the base and lit it. Would the cottage be at risk from the fire? Living on the hard shoulder of the M25 has just got to be quieter than this.

Then there are the insects who share my home, the usual spiders i have to scoop out of the bath and the odd fly. But i also have a large army of woodlice who march around the cottage with military precision. Not only do i have to scoop them out of the bath along with the spiders, but from the dogs feed dishes, from the walls and the floors. Im not yet quick enough to catch the slithery and very fast silver fish who live with them, but as the insect catching seems to be turning into an obsessive compulsive disorder im sure with all the practise it wont be long before ive mastered that art.
Then the flying visitors, flys of every kind and species you can imagine, from tiny little ones which seem to suck into your mouth everytime you breath, to the big yellow flys which inhabit the cow dung, i just pray the smaller ones lodged in my throat dont have the same appetites. The wasps whose sole mission in life is to set up home with me regardless if i want them here or not, to the birds who think its a good idea to make a nest in my shed then scare the living daylights out of me everytime i go in. Im just waiting for a swallow to get tangled in my hair!!!

Ive always admired massive trees, imagining how many hundreds of years they have been there, what they must have seen during their existance, the wars they have survived. I just dont know if i will be able to survive the war they have launched upon my garden. The seedling trees which pop up quicker than nettles, the shade they cast over the majority of my garden, leaving my poor carrot patch looking rather sparse. Then there will be the leaves as their counter attack in the autumn. Again the image of petrol poured around their bases fills my head.

Ive never once heard anyone from the country saying..........
They have to weed their walls?
The smell of cow dung sticks to the clothes drying on your washing line.
You have to re-dry your washed and ironed clothes from your drawers and wardrobes due to the damp before you can wear them...or perhaps im not yet 'hard' enough?
The coal fire makes one side of your face and legs a funny ruddy red colour and coats all of the house with a heavy layer of ash.
There is no mobile phone reception, and your land line crackles as if someone from outer space is trying to communicate with you.
If you can get channels 1-4 on your TV your very lucky, channel 5 is a definate no and you can only dream about freeview.
The farmer likes to start work at about 5am so any chance of a lie in leaves with the sound of the tractor rumbling around your cottage.
The moles in your garden seem to have figured out which path you normally take to tend to your newly planted veg, so deliberately spring new mountains up overnight to give you as many sprained ankles as possible for upsetting their garden....a lawn?....dont be stupid!
Sash windows have a mind of their own...they either open or they dont, sometimes they will close easily once you have fought them and won, sometimes they wont.
And i never thought id ever hear myself saying this but...there is too much game, a simple walk with the dogs results in 3 terriers disappearing over the horizon after the hares, sweat beads popping up on my brow just hoping to god the farmer doesnt see them and get his gun.

But then again you never hear people from the country saying.......
Just how beautiful it is to live here, how you can stand in your garden in the moonlight, with no light pollution from streetlights anywhere, not even on the distant horizons. No noise of drunks falling home, kids coming home from schools. No dogs barking in the yards. No cars racing or horns hooting. The only hoot you can hear is from the tawny owls.
How everyone is friendly, nothing is a bother if they can help they will.
How an amazing sense of calm comes over you, you learn to 'potter' rather than trying to get everything done yesterday.

But then again who could blame them, this is the best kept secret ive ever been allowed to share.

Written By
VON.