Living In A Bubble

Since moving here at the end of last summer, we seem to have become increasingly cocooned in our own little world.

Life in suburbia involved so much happening around us – people walking past our home, cars driving along our road, casual callers at our door (the latter sometimes being more irritating than welcome) – all of which constantly kept us in touch with the world at large.

We love the peace and quiet of our new home, but it’s true to say we could become increasingly cut off if we don’t make a conscious effort to connect with the outside world on a regular basis. There are no passing cars or people, no one calls except the postman, delivery drivers and invited guests. Even with the general election looming, we’ve not had the usual flurry of canvassers touting for a vote – just one lone, brave individual that seemed to have found us against all odds.

Of course, we do sometimes see dog walkers on the opposite riverbank and boats do pass by from time to time, but we see far more birds than we ever do people, and we find ourselves living in a state of contentment that often means that we don’t leave our home for days on end.

However, over the last fortnight I’ve had not one, but two short breaks away from home that have reminded me of what’s out there. The first was a seaside break with my daughter and young grandson, staying at a holiday complex on the south coast. I was thrilled that our accommodation turned out to be on the edge of the site, with the back windows overlooking a field of sheep – I’ve become so accustomed to the feeling of space! The seaside town itself was quiet, even more so as it was so early in the season, but the lovely weather meant my grandson was able to experience the excitement of building sandcastles and paddling in the sea for the very first time. It may have come as quite a shock to my system had the surroundings been more urban, or teeming crowds had filled the streets! I had a lovely break, but was pleased to be reunited with my rural surroundings on my return.

The second break merely involved one night away from home, but it was a busy 24 hours, that took me out of my little bubble once more. This time it was a trip for just my husband and me, and involved visiting an art gallery, lunching and dining out and a stay in a comfortable room overlooking a lovely harbour. We spent some time wandering around looking at the boats and the sea – as if we never get to see boats and water at all!

What I noticed about both of these breaks was, that as much as I had enjoyed both of them at the time, I didn’t get the feeling of not wanting to come back that I’d experienced when returning to previous homes in the past. It was lovely to go away, but equally as lovely to come home.

So now, here I sit once again, ensconced in my little bubble, enjoying the tranquillity, but making the effort to be aware of the wider world. I chat to folk on Twitter, keep up with the news, will most certainly vote in the forthcoming election and am continuing my campaign to push for a review of Ofsted (more of this and reviews of my stays can be read at www.shoppersjoy.blogspot.co.uk over the coming weeks).

I love to feel peaceful and contented in my bubble, but I must remember not to become disconnected from the real world!

Tides Of Change

With the tidal part of a river running alongside our garden, we’re presented with an ever-changing landscape.

There are times when the tide is so low, with so much of the riverbed exposed, that you feel you could walk across to the other bank, if it weren’t for all the mud! At times like this the wading birds congregate, redshanks and sandpipers, scouring the waterline for rich pickings. The odd lapwing or moorhen roam the mudbanks and gulls often congregate too.

When the water’s a little higher, cormorants come to fish, and then bask on the shore drying their wings. A few herons and egrets pause in sentry-like pose, occasionally grabbing a tasty bite, with a sharp stabbing action.

As the water becomes higher still, swans, ducks and the odd Canada goose glide by, but the river can become less peaceful with the arrival of a much less graceful creature – man! People in boats make the most of the opportunity to ride the river, some at alarming speeds in their flash cruisers! I prefer to watch the sailing dinghies and rowing boats – they’re much more sedate.

And then of course there are the really high tides. Fortunately there is a flood plain directly opposite us that spares us the wrath of these higher tides. I have it on good authority that the piece of land housing the ‘glorified shed’ has not been flooded since at least the 1960s. However, we did become a bit concerned when we experienced an unusually high tide the day after the recent solar eclipse. Although the river didn’t actually spill over onto our garden, water did cover the lower walkway that runs just below the garden’s edge, leaving a pile of assorted debris in its wake.

It’s sad how much rubbish, including plastic containers, small pieces of furniture and old tin cans, are washed along with the tides. We do seem to acquire a steady stream (if you’ll pardon the pun) of very clean looking footballs however. Perhaps I could set up a small football shop as a sideline!

Whatever the tides bring, it’s a great source of interest and enjoyment watching the changing landscape.

Protect Our Rivers

Living, as I do, directly on a riverbank, I’ve become aware of how users of the river don’t always treat it as well as they should. I’m appalled at the amount of old rubbish that gets washed up on the banks and annoyed by people in boats constantly disregarding the speed limit!

There is a speed sign right by our home, informing people of the maximum speed allowed. This is not there for adornment, as some obviously think, but to limit the amount of damage caused to the banks by the wash from passing boats. Natural erosion of the riverbanks obviously occurs, but is greatly increased by speeding boats churning things up. And why does this matter? We need to protect the wildlife and landscape (and more selfishly my home)!

One of the greatest offenders at exceeding the speed limit, I’m sad to say, is the army. They charge past in their little boats, but for what reason? The river narrows when it reaches us, becoming more twisted and narrower still just beyond. Not great for army manoeuvres I would have thought – although, of course, there is a pub a little further up! Surely if the army want to test their speedy boats, they would be better heading in the other direction, where the river widens out into the estuary and on to the sea.

We rarely see the river police enforcing the speed limit and of course there are no flashing signs displaying sad faces like you see on the roads. What I would really like is a ‘Brian-Blessed-Ometer’ – a device that would be triggered by speeding boats and would boom out in the great man’s voice, “What do you think you’re playing at you annoying river hog?”

Of course, many river users do exhibit consideration, and to them I’m very grateful. Those who don’t take as much care may just be ignorant of the potential damage that they can cause, and to them I request that they stop and think about the effects that their actions can have on nature.

And Brian, if you’re reading this, your input would be appreciated!

Being Entertained

There’s no doubt that moving to a property that sits on the riverbank has provided me with a stunning view and the opportunity to watch a large variety of wildlife on a daily basis.

However, the river has also been the provider of a much wider range of interest than I would have imagined. Depending on weather and tides, I often see boats of all shapes and sizes passing by, but on a couple of occasions they have provided a larger source of entertainment.

One Saturday morning, shortly after arriving here, we were sitting quietly in our new home (such as it is pre-renovation), when our peace was shattered by an almighty bang! I jumped off the sofa, and my son exclaimed, “We’re being shot at!”

The source of this startling interruption? A cannon. Not firing at us, but to herald the arrival of a kind of river carnival. A flotilla of assorted boats decked with flags, carrying a host of eager individuals frantically waving. Off course, we went outside and dutifully waved back, after all it was quite a novel sight (for us anyway).

More recently I wondered why I could suddenly here voices coming from the river on a Sunday morning. Not just voices having a conversation, but amplified voices. When I wandered out to the garden, I could see a number of rowing boats making their way along the river, some with a cox barking orders, not from a traditional megaphone, but via a kind of radio mic. 

In all, 28 boats congregated directly in front of us, then proceeded to start a race, back in the direction from which they’d come. The only problem was we didn’t get to see who won!

I can certainly view much more of life from my current home, than I ever could from my suburban dwelling that delivered nothing more than the sight of the odd pedestrian or car passing by and a few bedraggled starlings in the garden. The river itself is constantly changing with the tides and whilst their are some regular wildlife visitors, other creatures just seem to pass through.

And of course there are things going on in the village itself. There are two pubs which offer entertainment and the odd community event, and a recent sign in a nearby field heralded a forthcoming ploughing match!

The pace here is slower and we tend to stop and watch the more simple things in life, which give us as much (or more) pleasure than the bustle of town can often offer. It may not be ‘full-on’ entertainment, but for us it’s a great novelty!