Monday, 7 March 2011

The bright lights

I felt that there was very little to write about in the last few days.

The Spring work has begun and there has been a flurry of maintenance. The annual hope that a thick layer of paint will keep things from falling completely to bits.

Potholes have been filled, burst tyres patched up, horizontal fences made vertical, ditches reopened, rhones cleaned out. That sort of thing.

Evenings which see you incapable of coherent speech through tiredness and even the 10,000 yard stare becomes an effort.

Tonight, we had to go to the wild metropolis which is Cupar Angus. It is in the bottom right corner of Perthshire and a bit of a hike. We were going to collect some willow in order to plant in a very marshy part of the farm road. It would solve lots of problems, namely, cope with the perpetual wet bit, offer shelter, wood for the fire and everything.

I sort of misheard the length and when the rendezvous was made, there were 100 pieces of willow almost three metres long.
We wove them around the car as best as then went for something to eat.

After we had all eaten more food in an hour than was necessary, we came outside to a weird site - town lights. Ok, so it was Cupar Angus and not New York but after being so used to pitch darkness and silence, the traffic and neon were quite disorientating.
The Christmas fairy lights were still up and the New Moon lay idly on it's back surveying the world below with a laconic eye. Perhaps the Cupar Angussians were still celebrating.

We left Cupar Angus and travelled through places offering exotic names - Strelitz and Wolfhill, Burrelton and Balbeggie.

Perth looked magical at night with the tiny lights of the town reflected in the Tay.

We hit the A9 north and eventually arrived home. It was dark and quiet.

There is an energy and buzz from travelling through towns at night. I had seen into other people's lives as we sped past houses with undrawn curtains and a microscopic snapshot of what people did in their homes.
One family had lots of streamers and balloons decorating their living room.
One chap was lying on a brown leather sofa and was raised on one elbow trying to change the channel with a remote control.
A group of students sat round a table in the new college accommodation buildings. They sat ramrod straight - my Granny would have approved.

Actually, Granny would have totally disapproved of my peeping into other people's living rooms but it could not be avoided.

Just a glimpse of people who I would never know nor would they know that I had seen them. Ships in the night.

We are back here in our groove. Things that needed fed and settled have been.

I feel quite invigorated by our trip and God knows, will need the extra energy for

planting all that willow tomorrow.

City energy.
Rural pace.

1 comment:

  1. I love looking into other people's homes and am most grateful for those who are lax at drawing their curtains in the evening. I think I'm a tad nosey :-)

    Good luck with battling the willow.