The Simple Life
I love being in Cornwall.
Yesterday, while the M25 was riddled with traffic jams, the traffic website showing the motorway covered with warnings like unsightly boils, Cornwall was blessed with just one.
A faulty traffic light was causing a minor build up of traffic somewhere in the Redruth area. Other than that, all systems go.
Today, I listened to Pirate FM, Cornwall's independent radio station (its either that or Radio Cornwall, not like the uncomfortably rammed airways of North London where, trying to listen to XFM, you'd be introduced to a range of jungle, hard house and trance 'classics' just by turning your head which is all very well if you're looking to expand your musical repertoire but a damn nuisance if you were actually enjoying a song).
A story of note is the Badgers, apparently a division of St John's Ambulance, are holding a jumble sale to raise money for their new uniforms somewhere buried down in the depths of the county where I rarely venture (however if anyone's interested, I'm sure I could find out more details).
And an advert, seemingly the staple of the radio station where occasionally a song intervenes, informed me that Plymouth Caravan Centre had everything I needed.
A world away from tube delays, congestion and overpriced coffee.
This life certainly isn't for everyone. You can't get a soya tea for love nor money in any of the cafes, and I wouldn't suggest asking for an espresso either. Allergies in Cornwall are certainly not a speciality. And the aroma of cow dung spread in gay abandon across the fields may be a little intoxicating at times, the smell of the country certainly not appealing to everyone's taste.
But it keeps me happy.
Time slows, and tea is drunk. The idea of commuting again come Tuesday morning is a thought that is both obscene and ridiculous but it is a reality that is going to have to be faced at some point. It is truly amazing how easily I can avoid the temptation to check my work email. Ignorance truly is bliss, and web design certainly isn't.
At least when I return I will be trudging through my last week in London. And then to the north I go.
I love being in Cornwall.
Yesterday, while the M25 was riddled with traffic jams, the traffic website showing the motorway covered with warnings like unsightly boils, Cornwall was blessed with just one.
A faulty traffic light was causing a minor build up of traffic somewhere in the Redruth area. Other than that, all systems go.
Today, I listened to Pirate FM, Cornwall's independent radio station (its either that or Radio Cornwall, not like the uncomfortably rammed airways of North London where, trying to listen to XFM, you'd be introduced to a range of jungle, hard house and trance 'classics' just by turning your head which is all very well if you're looking to expand your musical repertoire but a damn nuisance if you were actually enjoying a song).
A story of note is the Badgers, apparently a division of St John's Ambulance, are holding a jumble sale to raise money for their new uniforms somewhere buried down in the depths of the county where I rarely venture (however if anyone's interested, I'm sure I could find out more details).
And an advert, seemingly the staple of the radio station where occasionally a song intervenes, informed me that Plymouth Caravan Centre had everything I needed.
A world away from tube delays, congestion and overpriced coffee.
This life certainly isn't for everyone. You can't get a soya tea for love nor money in any of the cafes, and I wouldn't suggest asking for an espresso either. Allergies in Cornwall are certainly not a speciality. And the aroma of cow dung spread in gay abandon across the fields may be a little intoxicating at times, the smell of the country certainly not appealing to everyone's taste.
But it keeps me happy.
Time slows, and tea is drunk. The idea of commuting again come Tuesday morning is a thought that is both obscene and ridiculous but it is a reality that is going to have to be faced at some point. It is truly amazing how easily I can avoid the temptation to check my work email. Ignorance truly is bliss, and web design certainly isn't.
At least when I return I will be trudging through my last week in London. And then to the north I go.
posted by thewebstress at Friday, April 14, 2006
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