How did you choose where to live? Perhaps public transport was import, or proximity to major roads. Maybe you drew a circle on a map a reasonable distance from your work, or children’s school. Perhaps you had an Escape to the Country-style list that included ensuite bathrooms and outbuildings.
My list was simply somewhere quiet with nice neighbours. But perhaps it should also have included a village shop where the founding of that shop is celebrated with not one, but two parties. Because that’s the case here.
The village has a shop-cum-café which boasts delicious home-made cakes and savoury snacks and tasty hot drinks.
Walking clubs use it as a finishing point, as do groups of cyclists. It often seems that everyone attending the art class in the next-door village hall dashes in for a couple of pints of milk.
It’s a handy place to meet people.
Last week saw its 10th anniversary and two celebrations were held. One inclement weekday evening, I walked up to share in the festivities and gladness. A lot of effort had gone into making this a special occasion: delicious snacks and sparkling wine, a room full of information charting the shop’s history, and vase upon vase of homegrown flowers.
Who are these people?
My normal village walks are between 8-8.30am, when I meet the dog walkers, greet the occasional cyclist and breathe in the quiet surroundings.
Doing the same walk at 6pm was instructive. Who were these people coming home from work in very smart cars? I’d never seen them or their cars before. One man stepped out of a particularly swanky black car (and believe me, this is a village of swanky black cars) looking drawn, grey, and with the physique of one who leads a sedentary lifestyle.
His was a well-presented house with three cars on the gravel drive.But, in that moment he represented all the people coming home from work tired, weary, carrying mental burdens.
These are the people that I never meet. Our paths never cross. Yet, until two years ago, I was one of them: exhausted from long days, feeling like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, coming home to sleep and feed the cat.
It’s harder to pay the bills now, but my goodness, life is a lot better when you can walk at 8.30am without fear of the boss asking why you’re not at your desk and can attend a party to mark the 10th anniversary of the village shop, because you’re not too exhausted to do so.
So, if you’re thinking of moving house, add to list of criteria a place with a village shop that holds parties, and consider changing your lifestyle so that you can walk to it. I promise that, whatever the financial restrictions that come with that decision, your life will be richer for it.