“We live in the country now” – London to Cumbria, one year on (part 1)

A rainbow over a wide vista of fields and trees.
Rainbow over Eden Valley

Have you ever had a dream come true?  Seriously, something that you’ve longed for and dreamt about, and thought that most likely wouldn’t ever happen? And then, gradually, you realise that it actually could become a reality, and you start to plan and save, and search and work, and one day there you are, living the dream.  Mostly.  A few things could be better, or easier, but really, it’s close enough.

As a small child I wanted to live in the country.  Well actually, what I repeatedly stated was that I wanted to live ‘in the wild’.  I imagined myself communing with wildlife and being entirely self-sufficient.  I devoured the books of Enid Blyton, including, notably, The Children of Cherry Tree Farm, The Children of Willow Farm and More Adventures on Willow Farm with their rosy depictions of country life as experienced by a family of city-born children, and a ‘wild man’ called Tammylan who lives in an actual cave.

Some versions of my dream included living in a cave, others a cottage with many, many pets.  None of my stories included a man, incidentally, but I was only about eight or nine at the time.  As I got older the dream persisted.  As someone who has always preferred fantasy to reality I assumed that a life in the country would always stay a daydream and I would be doomed to scraping a living in London, surrounded by noise, dirt, people (so many people!) and ugliness.

Then I met Peter.  He had a similar dream and similar views on so many other things (as well as similar humour, tastes, sense of silliness and a million other fantastic qualities) and there came a point that we started talking seriously about making the move together.

I think the important thing for both of us, and the thing which makes our relationship, and our new life in Cumbria work, is that we prioritise quality of life over almost everything else.  Neither of us had an established (or particularly well-paid) career in London (I was an extra in films and tv: a fairly precarious way to make a living) and we didn’t really want to limit our choice of location by looking for jobs first.  Foolhardy in some respects, but we checked out the lay of the land and figured we had a good chance of finding something once we’d narrowed down an area we liked.  Additionally, I knew I wanted to place more of an emphasis on my art and learn better time-management skills in order to combine a day-job with an increasing artistic output.

Golden fields next to a country lane
Winter sunshine on the fells.

We found a three-bedroom cottage which (to our amazement) costs less to rent than the room we had in a shared house in London.

I’ve been lucky enough to find a job in a large commercial bakery/factory 1.5 miles down the road from our village, and six months ago I reduced my  weekly hours from 38 to 31.  The ultimate goal, of course, is to reduce the day job and increase the art income (which currently makes up for the reduction in wages almost exactly), and I can see myself being able to do this further in a year or so.

The ability to take pleasure in simple (preferably free) things is a huge advantage in this scenario.  Having very much enjoyed certain aspects of London life, such as ready access to a host of pubs, restaurants, cinemas, theatres and other forms of entertainment, there might have been a concern that village life couldn’t compete on such a level and I’d get bored very quickly.  Fortunately, while I enjoyed availing myself of these pleasures, they were never something I craved, and I find myself perfectly content with occasional excursions to the nearest town, or weekends away to a big city.  In fact, even a weekend usually feels too long to be away from our lovely village and peaceful home life.

A green field with sheep in the foreground and a misty background
Sheep and mist

We spend our evenings in front of the fire with a DVD, a book, or music, and our weekends walking or just hanging out at home, or at one of the two very nice pubs the village has to offer. We can walk for three minutes and be in woodland or fields full of sheep and lambs, and we never cease to marvel at our gorgeous surroundings: the rolling fells with their patchwork fields and old stone walls, the soft feathery look of a distant copse on the slope of a hill, a red squirrel high in the tree tops or the clamour of a gaudy pheasant who flaps suddenly upwards, away from our approach.  These are the things that provide fulfilment, moments shared with the person I love, and the sheer majesty of the natural world.

[To be continued…]

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