There’s a lot to be said for committing to a change of scenery.
Let’s be honest, sometimes it can be hard simply staying in the same places and doing the same things every day.
Variety is, as they say, the spice of life. It’s a spice that I’ve not had enough of recently and I mean this both literally and metaphorically. That’s why I’ve made the difficult decision to move away from Great Hucklow. This has been my home for well over a century, but over the last few months I’ve felt that it’s been transforming into my prison.
These green fields, beautiful hills and stunning landscapes combine to create something akin to a paradise: so why is it that I’m unhappy here?
For many people, a life spent in Great Hucklow is highly desirable, after all, houses here aren’t exactly cheap. The peace and tranquillity that reigns here is something that many city dwellers would dream of. There are no street lights here in our little village, it’s often something that visitors comment on when they stay here for the night. With no street lights to pollute the night sky, the stars are given full reign to light the sky. Who needs street lights when you have the bright silvery moon, with thousands of stars to light your way home at night?
But that’s just the problem that I have with this peaceful, but beautiful village. There is nowhere to go home from.
If you weren’t aware before, Great Hucklow is conveniently placed in the centre of the Peak District. I italicise ‘conveniently’ because, other than beautiful landscape and barren wilderness, there’s nothing that we are really that close to here. Herein lies the crux of the issue, other than drinking down the Queen Anne, there’s really nothing much else for me to do here. The night life is non-existent, it’s hard to meet new people and there are precious few things to do in the local area other than walk aimlessly from village to hamlet to village.
So I’ve sold up my house. I’ve emptied the place of all my belongings and I’ve booked a taxi to take me out of this place. I’m going to pay through the nose for it, but I don’t care. I want to leave this village with nothing but a spare change of clothes, a bottle of water and my wallet.
Where do I go from here? That’s the real question.
I think I’m going to go and live in an honest-to-God city. I’m going to go where the constant hum of traffic plays like a soundtrack to my life. Where the sickly yellow glow of the street lights are reflected in the night sky, obscuring the stars. Where thousands of people jostle and bump for food, air and life. I can stay in hostels at first, simply soaking up the flavour of these city streets, drinking cheap booze and meeting travellers.