The Road To Spring 5: Down An Old Lane

Somewhere I haven't been for a while. In the rain, I've been in that many times though. Always depressing. Even though its touch is light, it is still unwelcome. Like touching a sensitive sore. Makes me wince. I think we've had enough rain, thanks. 

A walk into a part of the village I go so rarely. At the edge; a liminal point that fades into fields. The sort of route that, as you progress, takes you further out of familiarity. When you look back at how far you've come, the place you know is so distant as to be unrecognisable. Even though it's barely a couple of miles out of the way, it feels like another world. There is a palpable shift upon returning. A point where you know where you are, stepping back onto the map, so to speak.

It is a pleasant area, this. Particularly if you are of the generation that could afford the kind of home I've just walked past. That's old money, in the sense that successive generations, especially now, will never see the like. When their owners have gone who will be there to afford them? I'm sure a few well to do types will have the money, buying up the place, and so the community changes. Perhaps for the better, perhaps for the worse. I, as a long standing resident, won't be able to afford it. 

What does this all mean? Nothing, really. I just like taking walks in places that are a little bit out of the way. Hopefully the residents don't see me as a cul de sac invader. Why would someone walk down here in the rain, only to walk back, in the rain? Are they planning to rob me of my tennis court?

It's a slow day. The only kind. I have nothing else to talk about, but I am committed to continuing this project until at least March, possibly April. A year in lockdown, in other words. So, till then, you're stuck with me. These are increasingly difficult weeks. Spring will feel like a breath of fresh air. Warm weather (hopefully) and windows open will expand my horizons beyond the skeleton of winter. I don't enjoy going out in the cold and the wet, but the irony is that makes it all the more vital I do so. The days are an increasing pressure born of limitation. I have music to occupy my time, which I very much enjoy, but that there are limits on what I can does make things difficult, simply because I cannot do them.

And if you are interested, this is a piece I have worked/working on. Thanks for listening.