Once upon a time, a long time ago, I was born in a big city called London. I grew up there, and even though it’s cracking on for 20 years since I left, I can still say that I’ve spent more than half my life in that huge metropolis. I am a city person. It’s where I prefer to be. Where I belong. It’s what I still call home. And if I can’t be in London, then any other city will do. Ok, well almost any other city. Maybe not Glasgow. Or Detroit. Or Belfast. Baghdad isn’t too hot at the moment. Perhaps, after giving this a little thought, there may be quite a few cities I’d rather not be. But you should have gotten the idea by now. I’m a city slicker, not a country bumpkin.
Having said that, I do like the countryside. I’m surrounded by heathlands, woodlands and other areas of relative wilderness. The New Forest, the UK’s biggest National Park, is but a short drive/long walk/pleasant bike ride away. The coast is not much further in the opposite direction. The world famous Jurassic Coast of Dorset isn’t terribly far away either. We have deer, woodpeckers, badgers, foxes, squirrels, slow worms, vipers and countless species of birds that pass through our garden from time to time. On a sunny afternoon, buzzards can be seen soaring and circling over head, their screeching cries piercing the calm and tranquil rural life we live.
I got a reasonable shot of one of the buzzards yesterday. I got some nice shots of Ashley Heath, just a five minute walk from home. It is a pleasant place to live. The air is clean, the grass is green and the roads sparsely populated by cars. But best of all, it’s right on a main artery into London. Just an hour or so up the motorway and you’re there. I’m never far away from home, where I can leave all the rural tranquility for someone else to enjoy, and get back to all the smoke, dust and noise I love. Click here to see the set of photos up close.