It may seem as though I have the perfect life; I live in a beautiful cottage in a chocolate box village in Devon with my lovely husband, gorgeous cockerpoo puppy and a flock of pekin and silky bantams. I work from home as a freelance writer - the envy of many a friend.
However, the reality is, that though ‘happy’ with my life, I frequently find myself questioning my choices and decisions. Life in the country is certainly not without its perils. I mean, I am a fashionista at heart.
I spent years living in London feeding off the buzz of city life. I used to walk runways as a model, these days I’m walking country lanes and the treadmill when I can be bothered. Note
to self: Mulberry bag is not required when dog walking nor for a session at the
gym!
Let me put you in the picture. It’s a forty minute journey to get a Cosmopolitan, Sweaty Betty exercise gear - forget it, people south of Bristol don’t want to look trendy whilst exercising.. apparently, nor use anything other than bog standard beauty products on their skin; each time I place an order with Space NK it costs me a whooping five pounds postage.
It was my choice however to trade my stilettos in for my wellies (hunters albeit), to
have a more peaceful life away from the smog of the city. It is just some days
when walking my puppy, Partridge, I find myself thinking that this is not quite
how I envisaged my life, and wondering what happened to all the promise
and excitement? Nowadays the most exciting thing to happen in my week is
winning my squash league game or selling an old pair of Prada sandals on ebay.
But a serene life is what we all strive for, isn’t it? Reading a book on a languid day in the summer house, picking the freshly grown vegetables, hanging up yet more bunting and sipping pimms on the terrace. I know, I know it all sounds too perfect for words but then there is the reality of of a less perfect day; I walked into the kitchen to find all my post chewed up by the pup including a top ordered from Toast - now not looking so new it had a hole in the front and back plus all the tags were chewed off. No returning that one then! The love film dvd’s were also chewed up - there goes our cosy night in.. Our kitchen is being renovated so a complete mess, I smelt burning plastic, looked down to find another parcel I thought I had placed on the side burning quietly away on the hob. A hole had burned all the way through my new Reiss dress bought on ebay. Cursing, I donned my wellies as per normal to muck out my hens (a daily chore). Outside it was gloomy so the stunning hill view we have was, less stunning frankly. It was also drizzling so I could say goodbye to all the work put in by Frederick Fekkai in the shower that morning. Major eeks! On entering the hens pen my vintage wrap got caught on the wire and rips, I get chicken poo on my hands when pulling out the tray and the broody Louise pecks at me when I lift her off her eggs. On walking back up the path, Partridge escapes through the division gate and chases Thelma, Holly and Dorothy into our neighbours hedge. I scold her, walk back to the cottage forgetting I have the collected eggs in my pocket and as I push against the door they smash. Ugh, most definitely not the day I had in mind and certainly not the tranquil vision of my life my friends in the city conjure up when they think of me.
I could be sat in a plush office wearing my stilettos with a latte and a panini to
go but instead I’m sat at my laptop in my pyjamas (from Toast of course). This
is the life I chose, and even though each day brings with it more disasters and
less excitement than the one before, I feel a wee bit smug knowing that I
don’t have to climb that corporate ladder or catch the tube each day. Instead I
can breath fresh air (translated as the distinct smell of cow pats) into my
lungs and smile at the fact that I at least have a view, even on a drizzly day.
Maybe this is what growing up is all about..and maybe a reason to don my
stilettos will be just around the corner....
However, the reality is, that though ‘happy’ with my life, I frequently find myself questioning my choices and decisions. Life in the country is certainly not without its perils. I mean, I am a fashionista at heart.
I spent years living in London feeding off the buzz of city life. I used to walk runways as a model, these days I’m walking country lanes and the treadmill when I can be bothered. Note
to self: Mulberry bag is not required when dog walking nor for a session at the
gym!
Let me put you in the picture. It’s a forty minute journey to get a Cosmopolitan, Sweaty Betty exercise gear - forget it, people south of Bristol don’t want to look trendy whilst exercising.. apparently, nor use anything other than bog standard beauty products on their skin; each time I place an order with Space NK it costs me a whooping five pounds postage.
It was my choice however to trade my stilettos in for my wellies (hunters albeit), to
have a more peaceful life away from the smog of the city. It is just some days
when walking my puppy, Partridge, I find myself thinking that this is not quite
how I envisaged my life, and wondering what happened to all the promise
and excitement? Nowadays the most exciting thing to happen in my week is
winning my squash league game or selling an old pair of Prada sandals on ebay.
But a serene life is what we all strive for, isn’t it? Reading a book on a languid day in the summer house, picking the freshly grown vegetables, hanging up yet more bunting and sipping pimms on the terrace. I know, I know it all sounds too perfect for words but then there is the reality of of a less perfect day; I walked into the kitchen to find all my post chewed up by the pup including a top ordered from Toast - now not looking so new it had a hole in the front and back plus all the tags were chewed off. No returning that one then! The love film dvd’s were also chewed up - there goes our cosy night in.. Our kitchen is being renovated so a complete mess, I smelt burning plastic, looked down to find another parcel I thought I had placed on the side burning quietly away on the hob. A hole had burned all the way through my new Reiss dress bought on ebay. Cursing, I donned my wellies as per normal to muck out my hens (a daily chore). Outside it was gloomy so the stunning hill view we have was, less stunning frankly. It was also drizzling so I could say goodbye to all the work put in by Frederick Fekkai in the shower that morning. Major eeks! On entering the hens pen my vintage wrap got caught on the wire and rips, I get chicken poo on my hands when pulling out the tray and the broody Louise pecks at me when I lift her off her eggs. On walking back up the path, Partridge escapes through the division gate and chases Thelma, Holly and Dorothy into our neighbours hedge. I scold her, walk back to the cottage forgetting I have the collected eggs in my pocket and as I push against the door they smash. Ugh, most definitely not the day I had in mind and certainly not the tranquil vision of my life my friends in the city conjure up when they think of me.
I could be sat in a plush office wearing my stilettos with a latte and a panini to
go but instead I’m sat at my laptop in my pyjamas (from Toast of course). This
is the life I chose, and even though each day brings with it more disasters and
less excitement than the one before, I feel a wee bit smug knowing that I
don’t have to climb that corporate ladder or catch the tube each day. Instead I
can breath fresh air (translated as the distinct smell of cow pats) into my
lungs and smile at the fact that I at least have a view, even on a drizzly day.
Maybe this is what growing up is all about..and maybe a reason to don my
stilettos will be just around the corner....
