More Metamorphosis Metaphors

I never did get round to writing about our holiday at The Yurt Farm, but it was wonderful. I can’t recommend it enough to families looking to experience the great outdoors with a few home comforts.

Here’s the inside of our yurt…

… and Tom looking out across the valley…

It’s all very well being able to visit places like that, but it isn’t the same as living in the countryside. I keep thinking I should move to the out to the sticks, but I think it would be lonely if it was just the two of us. At the weekend, I took Tom in a taxi to Clifton Country Park. You go along a main road, past a grotty tattoo parlour and a shop that sells discount fireworks for New Year 2008 and down a cul-de-sac of three bed semis, then you’re in the countryside. There’s a really good play area, some horses and donkeys and a lake where we saw a deer taking a dip last summer. This time, we ventured into the woods. We came across the remains of the old colliery, which has meta sculptures of miners and is a bit eerie. We walked on and found open meadows, ponds, wild iris, a blue insect called Thomas and a caterpillar called Henry. The whole time you’re there, you can hear the rush of traffic on the motorway and regular trains roaring through towards town, but these only make you feel smug to have found a piece of countryside so close to the city.

After Clifton, my friend, Tom and I went to view a house with a garden. It was OK – the inside was a bit grotty and the kitchen felt like a dingy cupboard but I felt as though I ought to put up with that in order to get the space outside. There was even a brick built workshop (garage – nothing I do necessitates a workshop.) It had ivy creeping over the roof and, there were a pair of crutches and a painting of Maine Road inside. My friend and I both left feeling keen, but when we got home, I couldn’t get the industrial, scratchy carpets of the big house (as Tom was already calling it) out of my head. The final nail in the coffin for the big house was the realisation that it had no burglar alarm and the landlord wasn’t willing to fit one. Memories of crap student landlords came to the forefront of my mind. Our current landlord doesn’t do things by half. We’ll stay put for now and enjoy the occasional drive out to Clifton when we need a bit of the great outdoors – let’s face it, how many days in an English year are actual good enough for sitting in the garden anyway?

After those cocoons on the last post, here's Henry the caterpillar (and Thomas the pale blue bug.)

Advertisements

4 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

4 responses to “More Metamorphosis Metaphors

  1. maryfclark

    Hello, green caterpillar! I am sure they fed you well and didn’t sniffle too much when it was time to turn you loose.

  2. So strange, seeing that word ‘yurt’. When I was eight we moved to China at at the end of the year we did a big road/rail trip, one stop being in Outer Mongolia. I’ll never forget sleeping with my Mum, Dad and sister huddled together in a Yurt all fully clothed (I mean long johns, 3 layers and feather down coats the lot!), having sheepskins and STILL being cold. It was an amazing experience and when I hear that word it makes me smile – so thank you !

  3. parklover

    I love the look of the Yurt Farm, it looks amazing. The countryside is lovely, but I could never see myself in the sticks. I’ve always lived on the edge of somewhere urban where the city is an easy public transport ride away, but I can be running on the trails within minutes. I get twitchy if I’m away from the bright lights for too long!

  4. I am loving the look of the yurt farm also. I am also loving your blog !

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s