Big skies and small pleasures

Ah, the beauty of being outdoors at 5 p.m. and realising that it is not pitch black. The loveliness of standing outdoors, looking up and seeing hundreds of stars with no light pollution. The pure pleasure of standing in the garden breathing in crisp fresh air. Yes, I have been in London and reminded of how wonderful living in Shepton really is. Occasionally we get the odd waft of slurry and sometimes when the wind is fierce, the smoke from the coal-fired homes gives the air a tang, but generally, what we breathe here is very clean.

Two nights in Euston, listening to sirens all night, feeling the thickness of the air and the smutty film it leaves on one's skin was enough for me. One has to earn a crust, but goodness, I don't know how I would cope if I had to breathe that poisonous soup every day. I have to admit to surrendering to the final metamorphosis into country bumpkin.

On the way to the railway station, my verbose cabbie told me that he originally hailed from Salisbury but that he couldn't stand it as it was so small and slow. His measure of quality of life was the convenience of getting a take-away. Now, there's no saying that my values have any more worth than his, but as a man with two small children, I think I'd rather let me kids play in fields, know what shaped animal milk comes from and have roses in their cheeks than worry about take-aways. Somehow, I didn't have the heart to tell him that us bumpkins do have take aways, but they're usually on the wing a short while before eating or they're bubbling away in our kitchen range the way it has been done for ages past.

The cabbie I talked to was charming; but I realised that my values have changed so much over the past ten years that I am unrecognisable from the person I was. I would judge the flavour of a jam by how posh the label was where now I judge it by the taste and how easy it was to make, or not. If you had given me a jam thermometer ten years ago I'd have suspected you of owning strange devices for torture or something equally dark, but certainly never recognised it for what it was! Ten years ago a trip to London was a treat and a jaunt, now it is a chore that I can't wait to wash off my skin and hair.

The things that make me smile these days are the small pleasures in life; my neighbours young son beaming broadly, a clear day, seeing the first snowdrop. Give me big skies and small pleasures every time!