You know that old saying right? You can take the boy out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the boy.
Well, for me, this saying rings true and this past week has emphasised this more than ever.
I sit tapping away at this post as I’m on a train toward Twickenham (via Central London) after spending a week in Hull with my beautiful woman.
Initially I thought that my sudden sadness was due solemnly to leaving Justine, who I won’t see for at least a couple of weeks, and hadn’t seen for SIX WHOLE WEEKS before last Saturday.
But as I sit gazing emptily through the window at the masses of grey concrete for miles and miles I also realise that this place, London, makes me sad, makes me feel down, makes me yearn for the greenery (countryside not cannabis) which I’ve enjoyed for a week.
I mean, Hull city itself is pretty grim BUT is surrounded by mile after mile of green, unspoilt, beautiful countryside and I loved being back amongst the sights and smells of nature. I certainly didn’t miss the dreary, grey concrete jungle which I now call home…hopefully not for long.
Most of my holiday was spent helping t’mrs put t’horse out and clean t’stable (Yorkshire accent emphasis). And I enjoyed it so much. Nobody but us and a couple of other very pleasant northerners for miles, left to enjoy the peace and tranquility and to take in the amazing views.
Not a single hipster wannabe or pretentious, self-centred, miserable, rude suit in sight and I loved it. Nobody stood at a platform twitching because their train is 22.4 seconds late or rudely demanding extra hot, skinny, single-shot lattes from the poor barista at the station kiosk…just good, honest, polite, no-nonsense company.
All I know is that as I get closer and closer to ‘home’ I feel like I’m getting further and further away from where my heart belongs, whether it be Yorkshire, Shropshire or Powys…whatever. Somewhere unspoilt and where people don’t get offended and start to moan about being called “petal” or “flower”.
I could go on again about how much kinder and warming people are up north but I’m sure I already have. All I know is that as soon as Justine finishes university I’m out of here to join her for a new life elsewhere.
I will leave pretentious ponces to argue amongst themselves over who was first in the queue. After all, why would the 30-year-old business man give up his place for the frail old lady….
Hello again London, hopefully not for long….
benhughes20 