Since I have moved out of London I feel as if I am almost in a different country. It’s very quiet at night and everything closes early. There’s not much traffic most of the time and it feels a little like there is tumbleweed blowing down the street.

Wow, it’s different.  At first I was really enjoying the peace and tranquility, but its wearing off a little now. Also time seems to manage to run both faster and more slowly in certain respects. I have been working on music, and also there is still quite a bit of domestic stuff to do. I keep finding papers that should have been thrown out years back.  Its really difficult to get rid of certain “might come in useful” items too.  By a supreme effort I did let go of a few things today, but it took some doing.

The slightly dreamlike state of everything is perhaps my personal projection rather than anything inherent in this place I guess.

I haven’t  bonded with the locals exactly yet. Met one or two and they seem OK. Not that I was really expecting to to be honest.  Everyone seems friendly enough on the whole but there is something missing that is yet to be found.  Also there are spiders. Large and small and many and various. Everywhere.  And Sunday joggers plus hoards of cyclists. the lycra clad legion reins supreme here without a doubt.
I have not detected too much in the way of artistic endeavor yet though I am sure it must exist. I did see some works for sale by local artist though I confess.

Time will tell.