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Spoilt rotten

Writer's picture: Dave FDave F

So we're pretty spoilt. We live in a fantastic rural part of the country, leafy lanes and country walks on the doorstep. We have around 1000 residents in the village, amply serviced by 2 pubs - one a traditional award winning parlour inn with great open mic evenings, the other Shropshire's pub of the year (with quite possibly the best beer garden in the country). There is a car repair garage that does MOTs, a well stocked cheery village shop, a library, community centre and long standing butchers. We have a small primary school linked to an award winning nursery. You could wish for no more.


The views from our house are stunning. Plenty of trees, green pasture land, black and white cottages and steeply rising hills. The river cuts emphatically through the village at the very bottom of the street. Above us, we have families of free wheeling buzzards, hooting owls in the clear unpolluted light at night, woodpeckers busy in the trees. We are indeed very, very blessed.


It is however easy to lose perspective - naturally, we have coronavirus stalking the land creating its own exclusive tensions and distractions. There is a distinct air of unease about the future. We have had the worst flooding on record and been cut off from the outside world on several occasions over the past year. Last week, just as we got to bed, a hurricane blast of sleet infused wind ramped up the air pressure and blew the neighbours ridge tiles clean off the roof. They slid down to a horrendous scraping sound, followed by a heart stopping silence before crashing down onto the drive below. They managed to miss our car by inches but closer inspection as the day dawned revealed a war zone of shattered tiles in an explosive radius of 40 feet. Tiles hung menacingly from the broken guttering. I don't care if I never hear that sound again. But we cleaned them up and carried on.


These things are sent to try us, push our patience, make us anxious. Stop taking things for granted. I'm sure they are sent to make us reassess and in the end to be thankful for what we actually have. As Bob Dylan put it in that nasally whine of his, "There's a battle outside and its raging. It will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls."


Oh yes, my friend, the times are indeed a-changing. Be kind


Photo - Dave F

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