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On August the 1st I'll have been living in my current abode for 32 years. (The official tenancy commencement date is the 4th, but trust me - we moved in on the 1st.) However, on June 14th, it'll be 47 years since I first moved into the house I now occupy. How can such an apparent contradiction be the case you may be wondering, so I'll tell you - though if you're a longtime Criv-ite you'll already know the answer.
11 years after having first moved here, my family relocated to a new house in a new neighbourhood, but after just four years, we moved back. I'd never wanted to leave this house to start with, so naturally enough I was overjoyed to return, and at first it seemed as if we'd never been away. However, you've read all this before if you're a regular reader of this blog, so no need to go over it again in excruciating detail.
The only reason I mention it now is because I've been thinking about previous occasions my family had moved house (I'd been in six different residences by the age of 24), and the effect each new home had on me at the time. Thinking back, it seemed that I was more aware of each new environment in the initial stages, though that's probably not surprising as everything was making its impression on me for the very first time. It wasn't just the house and neighbourhood I soaked up in an enhanced state, but also seasons, colours, smells, etc.
It occurs to me that whenever we experience new surroundings, it's like a reset button has been pressed in our heads, and our senses react in an increased capacity, so that the first sunny or rainy days in a new house make much more of a dent in our brains than many similar days during our latter years in a former domicile. The sky seems bluer, the grass greener, the snow whiter, etc. After we've settled in (after a few years usually), that keen awareness settles down and we view and feel things in a much more muted manner. I suppose that's because once we're used to a place, we don't really pay it the same attention as we did in the beginning.
So maybe it's a good thing to change our surroundings every few years - or our places of employment and maybe even careers. (Whether this includes partners is open to discussion obviously.) I'd be the first person to sing the praises of familiarity and continuity, but I can't help but remember the first impressions I had upon flitting to a new home and neighbourhood, and measuring it against how I feel now all these years later. Something seems to be missing, but I don't think I'd be able to cope with a change of residence now in my advanced decrepitude, so I'm not sure how to interpret my occasional restlessness and yearnings for something new.
At times like this, I'm reminded of the chapter entitled 'Wayfarers All' in Kenneth Grahame's magnificent book, The WIND In The WILLOWS (which I heartily recommend), and I settle down again, knowing that yearnings for something fresh are often best left to the imagination than fulfilled in the day-to-day reality of life.
Or perhaps you're of a different opinion? If so, feel free to express it in our lonely and neglected comments section. In fact, do so even if you agree with me. (There's always a first time.)
12 comments:
Hello Kid,
As you are obviously a fan of 'The Wind in the Willows' there are some sequels you may or may not be aware of. William Horwood wrote and Patrick Benson illustrated a few sequels that are so true to the original it's as if Kenneth Grahame himself wrote them. 'Toad Triumphant' was one.
Now as you grew up north of the border, it's probable that you were not exposed to 'Private Eye' the satirical publication which in it's early days was extremely hard to find even on the handful of newsstands near Soho in London where 'Eye' was published. I write this because the original art director and one of the cartoonists was the humorist/actor/artist William Rushton. It was trying to track down all his published works that I came across 'Wild Wood' written by Jan Needle, illustrated by Rushton.
I was first read 'Willows' in Primary School when I was about seven years old and in spite of many rereading I never questioned the comfortable middle class Edwardian life portrayed. Now, if like me you have any socialist sensibilities 'Wild Wood' will blow your mind as you see the plot from a working class point of view. Plus it has Rushton's lovely drawings.
I read the first of Horwood's sequels many years ago (and have another one somewhere I've yet to read), but I wasn't too impressed to be honest. It started off okay, but it just didn't have the 'magic' of the original.
I remember Private Eye (now edited by Ian Hislop), but don't think I've ever read an issue - though I've seen it in newsagents over the years. I remember William Rushton from his various TV appearances and was aware he was an artist/cartoonist and had illustrated Wild Wood, which I read back in the late '70s or very early '80s. Very cleverly written, but I think the class aspect in Wind In The Willows is overstated, and I believe that Grahame dismissed such an idea, saying that it wasn't his intention. (This was obviously decades before Needle's Wild Wood.)
Needle takes the class approach, but I think that Grahame simply felt that stoats and weasels neatly fitted his idea of sleekit, untrustworthy types, not the working class per se. Most commentators that I've read seem to be of the same opinion, but I suppose it's arguable that WITW reflects the author's outlook on class (if such it was) without him having been aware of it and without it being his intention.
It's interesting that you read the book when you were 7, because 11 or 12 is generally considered to be the best age to fully appreciate it beyond the comedic adventures of Toad. I first read it around 11, enjoyed it, but it never had a great impact on me until I re-read it a year or so later and was blown away by it. There's an account of this event in the post entitled 'The Toad Came Home...'
There is an aspect of Wind In The Willows that is truly horrifying. As I recall, the main characters are carnivores who tuck into beef sandwiches and suchlike. So WITW seems to operate a terrifying class system where some animals talk and wear clothes while other animals are killed and eaten by their "betters". And as Terranova says, WITW is so bourgeois and Home Counties.
I think you're reading far too much into it, CJ, to the point of revealing your own 'class sensibilities' rather than Kenneth Grahame's. It's a fairy story that doesn't make much sense if you think about it. Sometimes the animals are animal-size, sometimes human-size, and sometimes in-between, depending on whatever particular activity they're involved in at the time. And T47 never actually said what you say he said (if I read him right), he merely pointed out that Jan Needle took the 'working class' point of view in Wild Wood. As a common (some would say very common) working class Scotsman, I never saw the book (WITW) as being written from a class system perspective. Funnily enough, neither did the author.
Nothing can beat the original. Wind In the Willows has to be one of the most well written books ever. If I was left on a desert island that would have been the book I would have taken with me.
Extremely high standard of writing, LH - I'd say it's the finest book of its kind ever written.
Forgot to mention left on a desert Island with Jeri... The book would be great reading whilst she slept. Hehhehheh
Jeri would be too busy with me on my own private desert island to accompany you, LH. However, I hear Ann Widdecombe is available, you lucky man.
Ann Widdlecombe informs me she is an avid stamp collector and nothing could please her more than to be together with you on your desert island checking perforations with you.. Jeri will be fine with me.
Jeri says you've to stop 'phoning her and sending her cards and flowers, she's perfectly happy with me, thanks. Ann has been on the dating sites (so I'm told) and her ideal man fits you to a t, LH. You're a match made in Heaven. What's that, Jeri? Yes a cuppa and a biccie would be lovely, ta much. (Gotta go, my luck's in.)
Kid, if WITW is a fairy tale then I agree I was reading it the wrong way. I should explain that I first read WITW as an adult, around 5 years ago, so perhaps you need to read it first as a child to properly appreciate it?
Kenneth Grahame said that the book was written for youth... and for those who still keep the spirit of youth alive in them, so I don't think that one need necessarily be a kid to properly appreciate it, CJ. However, I think one needs to be able to leave one's adult sensibilities, biases, and outlooks 'at the door' before reading it. The standard of English is such that adults who appreciate good writing will find much to like, but viewing it through the jaded prism of adulthood is perhaps not the best approach. Remember, 'Ratty' is a rodent (actually a water vole), and as such could be considered as vermin. Therefore, socially, he's at the bottom of the totem pole, so accusations of 'class' are misinformed when one of the 'good guys' is every bit as 'working class' as some imaginative commentators view the stoats and weasels. I really think the class thing is nonsense, and it's only there (in the book) if one chooses to see it. I certainly never did.
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