Idle Speculation


There’s not too much to do on the farm in February.

sheep grazing Sussex

So we all ran away for the weekend to a beautiful corner of rural Sussex where there were hills and sheep, dark nights and silence, which made a pleasant change from the flat urbanised landscape of Essex. We even had a dusting of snow.

When we came home we said “Wasn’t it lovely? It was so quiet and peaceful without the incessant traffic noise of home.”

We talked about whether we’d like to live there. We said we would.

The London Eye

And then we went up to town. We went to the theatre and there were so many places to eat we had a job to decide which one to pick. We walked along the Thames and stood on the bridges watching the water rush by under our feet.

When we came home we said “Wasn’t it fun? There’s so much to do.”

We talked about whether we’d like to live there. We said it would be lovely to have a pied-à-terre.


But when we thought about it, the hills in Sussex were quite steep and the roads very narrow. And London was very noisy and crowded. Anyway, how could we afford a pied-à-terre?  Then we looked around us at the two cock pheasants strutting along the wall outside the kitchen window, the carpet of snowdrops under the apple trees and the fields beyond and we said “Aren’t we lucky to live here? Why do we want to go anywhere else?”

That’s the trouble with February. It’s such a non-event and leads to far too much idle speculation. Roll on spring.


20 thoughts on “Idle Speculation

  1. You are so right! Winter generally is hard here. So quiet and isolating. It is always when we talk of going back to the UK. Today again we have woken to thick fog but the afternoon has been beautiful. Blue sky and warm sun. My bees are venturing out again and is lovely to have them land near me for a chat. Lots of snow drops here too and bird song. Spring is on the Way!

  2. Ah, cabin fever. Know that feeling so well. It happens almost every February. Snow is everywhere and each day a little more falls. When the sun shines brightly and you want to get in the car and drive to somewhere else and when you get there you think it would be so nice to live in that place, but….
    You have such lovely flowers peeping through.I regale my spirit with the birch trees against the blue sky and the cheeky chickadees swooping through the branches to the feeder.

    1. I’m not sure how I’d cope with relentless snow, but I guess you just get used to it. Also, I guess you don’t fall apart like the UK does at the merest sign of a snowflake.

  3. I’ve always thought that was the advantage of going away, it makes you realise that home is not such a bad place after all. Except for Australia. That one has made me think, though the cost of entry is so high it’s unlikely ever to be a goer. Cities are nice to visit. Occasionally. But my heart does lie in the country. Green fields, snowdrops and skies full of stars at night. If pheasants didn’t nip off the hellebore flowers they would be welcome too..

  4. beautiful scenic view of the sheep! love the snow especially as we are dying in this extended heatwave that just goes on and on….can’t wait till Winter.:)

  5. It’s great to go away for a change of scene and a little wandering (in mind and body) but it’s always good to come home again. If it isn’t good to come home then it’s time to move! I took almost the exact same photo of the London Eye last week 🙂 I had a moment of regret, missing living in London, but it was fleeting (thank goodness).

  6. I can so relate to what you wrote. For years, I would always wonder what it would be like to live in the wonderful places we travel to but once home I know I am lucky to live where I do.

    1. Had to look up hedonic adaptation! Now feel a tiny bit guilty that in December tell people their Christmas will so much better if they just buy this wonderful decoration and fabulous tree.

  7. I like going away and then coming home. I wish I had been away for the last two months because of all the rain, wind and floods we had here in Northern California. The photo of your sheep reminds me of my brother’s farm in Germany.

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