- Sunday, 26 April 2015 -
Country girl confessions
Hello you lovely lot! This weekend marked my triumphant return back to bonny old England for my final semester of 2nd year. I stepped off the plane and breathed a heavy sigh of relief to have returned to civilisation - because for the past month I've been existing in a perpetual state of rurality, with shops scattered every 5 miles or so and a ratio where there's more cows than people. I went to bed this weekend drinking in the sounds of the city, practically vibrating with excitement that I could pop to the shops right now if I wanted to, a choice you never have when living in the country.
When you're from the country, going into town becomes an event - an escape from the humdrum happenings of provincial life. I remember as I teenager I yearned for a life lived in the town, the accessibility of it all. I eyed my fellow youths with envy as they strolled about the shops in packs, not having to be driven everywhere, literally having the world at their feet. But nope, I'm stuck at home in the middle of nowhere with fields as far as the eye can see.
As a tight-knitted community, it's our duty to know everything about everyone; we make it our business to know everyone else's. Oh why yes, I have heard that Mary down the road is expecting and that Matthew Thomas just passed his driving test (albeit on his second go). I can recall the moment when I opened my GCSE results to discover I passed and on that very day, there came a crusade of congratulatory cards - because when you're living in the country, word travels fast.
You gain a certain amount of qualities and quirks when you live in the country, you develop a dialect all your own, as your speech becomes that little bit harsher and all the more inaudible, tractors are referred to as "her" and the answer to everything is "aye". We are a very resourceful bunch of people, having picked fruit for food and knowing how to gather eggs without getting pecked, we definitely aren't shy of a bit of hard work.
I am and always will be a farmers daughter. I have many a memory ushering cows into fields and wincing every time my dad offered me freshly squeezed milk. My childhood primarily consists of me climbing clumsily over fences, picking apples off trees and being absolutely convinced that I could speak to animals. As an only child, making my own entertainment was expected, the outdoors was my playground and the animals, my friends. I'd spend hours frolicking in the fields going on adventures in the afternoon and then spend my balmy summer evenings fishing for tadpoles in a jam jar; life was good.
The sights, sounds and smells of the countryside are unmistakable - the luscious greenery that blankets fields upon fields, the hearty bleating of sheep, and of course the strong whiff in the air that tells you its silage season. I grew up surrounded by nature and am so thankful I have it to retreat to whenever my colourful city takes its tole; because you can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl.