Seasons of mists and mellow flooriness.
I’ll come clean – flooriness is not a word but to get some loose connection with Keats’ “To Autumn” I had to bend rules.
I used to despise autumn with a passion and there’s still aspects of it that irk. Declining light levels, shorter evenings, until the lunar armageddon of clocks going back near November, which used to send me quivering with SAD.
Norfolk though has light levels that are great in all twelve months and, my immediate family, keep warning me that a proposed move to County Durham (the villages like St John’s Chapel, Westgate, Wolsingham, Daddry Shield and Stanhope) will see me blubbering with seasonal depression in November and December. I’d have a new 4wd to compensate and probably be mortgage free, but will Weardale affect me negatively in autumn and winter?
What I do know though to go all Paul Young, is that wherever I lay my hat, that will be home.
A good broadband connection, Google WiFi and 4G outside the house, along with my Apple gadgetry accoutrements means I can write, mark and design websites in the flatlands of Norfolk or the rolling cloudy, cooler landscapes of County Durham.
Son goes to university next year so the need for a large family home will end and my 12 year old daughter takes after me in so many ways and will gladly throw her metaphorical hat in the air and settle where it lands.
Cassie, our border collie rescue, will be in her spiritual home too in those dem dere hills, with sheep and waterfalls and friendlier natives.
But, apart from light, I have a nagging doubt, as I think we should move elsewhere.
Not because Essex has sheep or hills but because all my business seems to be coming from there.
Really though, these companies and individuals in Chelmsford, Colchester, Rayleigh are not picking me up from SEO phrases, but from the micro-network I’m building there.
County Durham it is hopefully, in 2019, but I’m certain that demand for my web design work, copywriting and exam marking won’t diminish from a change of address.
My gut should diminish, though, tramping daily for 5 miles across that rugged, empty and beautiful terrain, with, hopefully, real winters and not the half-arsed ones we get every five years here in the east.