Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Dib Dob Ging Gang Goolie

I don't know about you, but when I've ever moved house and gone to live in a completely alien environment from the one that I used to feel way more comfortable in, it scares the proverbial pants off of me.

As a Girl, you're driven by your Parents, in a car, whether to a Convent Boarding School....to Girl Guides,  or beautifully, to Finishing College in the Somerset Countryside. I never felt that I hugged my Dad quite so tightly enough to thank him with all of my heart for any of what he did for me before he passed away.....but truly, he worked his sox off for me.

As an Adult now, living with no children in my life, it's a very difficult story for me, but not a sad one. An English Rural Village happens to be where my heart truly belongs.  But Villagers do like to know just who you are, just why you're here, and exactly what you're doing in their village!  Which is kind of tricky, when you're not entirely sure of the reason yourself.

Isn't it gorgeous then, when you wake up one day and find that the very people around you, are what you've actually been missing all of your life?

Rightly, or wrongly, that feeling completely overwhelmed me today.
I drove for 'seconds' up to the village hall, into what is normally a grassy field that suffices as a Car Park.
There was a familiar face of a chap that I humped (don't make your own story up!) BALES OF HAY with onto a trailer, along with Trousers and another chap at the end of the season last year for someone else's  Sheeps to devour during the colder months, and they were spreading scalpings, and making 'A Proper Car Park' in the field for The Village Hall to use, on Farmers' Land?
No more thanks given than a nod and a word, but none more needed as far as we were concerned.
I was just about to try and put that into words, and then realised that actually, that's not possible.
It isn't words.... It's a feeling. And it's about doing everything that you can for your own community.

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