As if you hadn’t have guessed, this post is going to feature that current bloging trending topic… snow. We’ve had our fair share of it here in Bedfordshire, and we also have among the highest number of schools closed in the country. Joy.
I’ve been feeding the birds like nobody’s business; as well as keeping the feeders topped up, I’ve cleared out three patches of ground and have been littering them with peanuts, raisins, rice, apples, suet treats, mixed seed, black sunflower seed and, on occasion when I’ve been feeling more affluent than I am, sunflower hearts. Truth be told, typically for January my finances are absolutely pitiful and I can’t really sustain this level of feeding, despite the current forecast for the continuing weather conditions.
But my friend Sam over at Bedfordshire Wildlife Rescue has given me a few pointers which will mean I can continue to help the birds during this time. I’m going to try her Winter Warmer Recipe, as well as smearing some peanut butter on the bark and branches of my apple tree, where the tits like to feed from.
Aside from feeding the birds, I’ve been a bit housebound. Yesterday I cautiously made my way into work, arriving half an hour late, but in one piece despite a few car-related hitches. As part of my drive is on the motorway, the latter part of the journey isn’t too bad. It’s just making my way onto the motorway that’s the problem.
I’ve been keeping abreast of the countless snow-related weather reports, and have been a bit bemused to hear the phrase ‘wartime spirit’ cropping up. It’s as if we simply can’t band together during any other time than crisis, or when we’re battling something, be it the weather, the government or some other threat to our home front.
Which is why I can appreciate a sort of perverse (or maybe not so perverse) enjoyment that a ‘crisis’ will bring. I know where I live, TescoTown, it’s like everyone lives in their own little box, and they don’t interact much. They don’t rally around each other or make sure the elderly and the vulnerable are OK. They sit in their homes and turn up the heating, complain about the terrible train service into London and all rush to Tesco to do a bit of panic buying, thus making the situation much worse than it ought to be. Silly billies. But then we are a commuter TescoTown. We’re not a thriving village. We’re not a community. We’re a collection of people living within close proximity. It’s sad really.
I also wonder if modern living is to blame. I use ‘modern living’ as a label for long commuting journeys, 24/7 access to our supermarkets, who ship and fly in produce from all over the world. If we shopped and sourced the bulk of our food and supplies more locally, would so many shop shelves be empty? Of course, the smaller village stores can’t supply everything from local sources. But if every town had its own local butcher, baker and grocer who in turn were supplied locally, wouldn’t we be much better off at times like these? Wouldn’t the country lose less money from ’snow days’ if we didn’t have to do 60 mile commutes in the first place? Or perhaps had more flexibility in working from home? I do wonder.
So whilst I applaud the smaller, more isolated communities for rallying through and helping each other, I also feel a bit sad that in ‘peace time’, by and large we don’t keep up the effort. Us Brits pride ourselves on our unwavering wartime spirit that we’ve clung onto since the ‘good (but actually, bad in terms of death and destruction) old days’, but it only seems to become prevalant when it absolutely has to. The way I see it, it’s as though, for most of us in our commuter towns and cities, it’s a very rare occurance.
So I’m left wondering whether I’m really happy where I live. Would I like to live in a more close-knit community? Am I looking at it with rose-tinted glasses? Is it actually tougher than I could deal with? Would I prefer to live somewhere where people knew my business, or somewhere where I can go about my business without worrying what people think, because basically, I’m invisible?
I’m wondering whether it’s time to think about planning a move to pastures new. Not that we can afford it right now.
Weight: 11stones 10lbs
January 8th, 2010 at 12:10 pm
“Would I like to live in a more close-knit community? Am I looking at it with rose-tinted glasses? Is it actually tougher than I could deal with?”
I’ve come to think that communities exist in all sorts of places - cities, ‘Tesco-towns’, villages, isolated islands - but they aren’t always obvious and it’s up to you to step into their circuits.
When I moved here I changed from commuting from a suburban ‘village’ near London to a business unit on a small industrial estate about 20 miles away; to working from a studio attached to my house in a tiny Suffolk village. My ‘community’ used to be the people in the surrounding business units, clients and service businesses I needed for work and the people in my street back home. In the our village, although I was there all day, I felt more isolated and invisible, I had no network at all - until after about a year I decided to put my hand above the parapit and volunteered to take on the role of Village Magazine Editor. Now I know the names of most people in the village (about 180 houses) and the numerous small business who advertise in the magagine and the people I need to help me produce and distribute it each month. Other small things start to bond people together - finding someone to look after your cat/hens at holiday times, helping neighbours when there’s a power cut or more dramatically a fire, my husband has started an fuel oil buying syndicate and audits the Parish Council accounts. We don’t have kids, but those that do find their communities via the school run. We’ve been here 10 years and we definitely live in a caring community, even though it’s a typically reserved and rather shy English one. There are a few people in the village who choose not to take part and are happy to be residents in a dormitory village - that’s their choice. I’m pleased I was brave enough to stick my hand up and say ‘I’ll do that’ even though it’s an extra chunk of unpaid work to take on.
I hope your wonderful plans become reality - I’m sure the green pastures are nearer to home than you realise.
Take care in the snow - good wishes for 2010
Celia
January 8th, 2010 at 12:47 pm
You are by no means alone in wishing to live in a tigher community. Nor are you looking at with rose-tinted glasses. I think there are many, including us, a new generation, who didn’t live in war times, who didn’t always know a life without supermarkets. We want a butcher who we know, who can give us the best meat. A baker, no from some chain, but who provides the community.
We recently lost our local butcher here and I have to say, hypocrtically I never shopped there. Mostly because I don’t buy much meat. But now he is gone, I feel remorse. ‘Tesco Towns’ are taking over - perhaps we should all join forces and start a new village?
January 8th, 2010 at 6:25 pm
I think with my wife and I the problem is that we both need to work full time in order to be able to afford to live in a rural community (although I’m out of work at the mo). In doing so we cut ourselves off from being able to go to the butcher, bakers etc as there is never enough time or they’re not open when it is convenient for us.
That said we do make an effort to use local retailers and our village is a fantastic help. We have a strong community here based around it; I grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere so it’s a real change for me.
I know most of my neighbours (where as before I had none) and we all help each other throughout the year (looking after chicken, watering tomatoes, taking deliveries, etc) but I have to admit they made the first move and came knocking on the door with welcome cards when we’d just moved in. It’s nice as I never thought I’d like living next to other people but they made us feel part of the community straight away.
I think we’re lucky to live in a place that has a village shop (it sells fresh baked bread daily), two pubs, a couple of market gardens that sell cheap veg and a fruit farm right on our door step.
When I talk to other villagers they’re not always aware that, even though we live in an area where every field is covered in vegetables, they can buy them from the farms at a fraction of the cost. Mind you, we’ve just had a letter land on our door mat telling us how many Clubcard points we’ve “earned” this month with a leaflet showing us how perfect and clean our fruit and veg should be.
January 8th, 2010 at 6:33 pm
I’m in the U.S. so there may be a cultural difference here, but I have definitely experienced similar feelings about whether modern society inhibits the spirit of community. I’ve come around to sharing Celia’s view that communities exist everywhere, and we have to remind ourselves to make the effort to jump into them (which does not come naturally to me). However, I also think that it is much more difficult in transient areas.
I have a friend who lives in a large suburb of Washington, D.C. Unlike me she is very outgoing. She bakes things to welcome new neighbors, and says hello, and chats. Some people act suspicious, like she’s a complete loon for being all nice and everything. But some don’t, and she manages to create networks with a few people. And then those people move away.
Nearly five years ago I came back to the rural area of Virginia where I grew up and though I know we won’t stay here, I’ve enjoyed the slower pace, the smaller scale and the relationships. Funny, this all felt so suffocating when I was 16, but I find it rather comforting at 36. The area has changed a lot—there are a lot of second-home owners and people from up north buying property here to escape high taxes. But so far there’s enough stability and personal investment that people still feel connected and responsible for their neighbors. And we’ve created new relationships just by saying hello, offering help, sharing garden glut, asking for advice, frequenting the same stores (even if it’s a chain), etc.
When talk of a Wal-Mart started here around 2006/7 I definitely opposed it and when talking with people, one of my well-worn arguments was that it would kill local business. Ironically, the recession took care of that quite handily before the Wal-Mart was even built. And now, there is talk about other locally-owned businesses sprouting up around it. Even though its a chain store, people will know their Wal-Mart butcher/baker/cashier, because they already know them. They probably knew their parents and grandparents. And as much as it offends my personal taste, this fluorescent-lit palace of Chinese-made stuff and produce from Mexico will be a local meeting place. People will block the aisles and catch up on their news and spread rumors. Just like at the nearby McDonald’s where the same group of old men gathers every. single. day.
Even accounting for the “outsider” factor, I think that it is easier to plug into a smaller scale community that has continuity, where people are invested because they plan on being there for a while. And not just rural—I’ve experienced the same feeling in neighborhoods within large cities, too.
Even though I get very frustrated by some aspects of our rural culture (conservative politics, devout religion, sometimes feeling very isolated), I still wouldn’t trade it.
January 8th, 2010 at 7:12 pm
I know what you mean regarding inhabitants of ‘Tescotown’. Ther is no wartime spirit here that’s for sure. Tail-gating on horrifically slippery roads and a ‘get out of my way’ attitude is all I seem to see these days which seems to be amplified by the bad weather.
I too want to get out into the hills, away from all the ******* people and into a more caring / sharing community. Does this still exisit in this country? I live in hope!
January 9th, 2010 at 11:29 am
I agree with Celia: I think communities can exist in the most surprising of places, but you have to take the plunge and stick your neck out in order to find them and get involved in the first place. When I lived in London I made a special effort to try and get to know people in my local area by joining a local book group and attending pottery classes. I ended up making some incredibly good friends, and our friendships have survived since I moved to Cornwall.
Having said that, I think certain places have a tendency to be more welcoming and with more community spirit than others. And also there’s nothing better than moving onto pastures new if the timing is right. We all need a fresh start and a blank page every once in a while.
I wish you all the best with your endeavours this year!
Holly
January 12th, 2010 at 5:36 pm
Maybe it is something you could start to rekindle for yourself, it is possibly a little late now but maybe try phoning your local meal-on-wheels and checking to see if there is anyone near by you that they are worried about and could do with an extra visit?
Only a small thing but it could snowball LOL