Why do City Girls want to live in the Countryside?

So as I sit here tonight on a warm spring evening, with my window open, and the smell of cow manure making me visibly gag every now and then, I find myself thinking "Why do town girls dream of country living?". What is the allure? Why do so many of us desire it almost more than we would desire a no strings attached night with Johnny Depp? Probably because like Johnny -no offence, gorgeous - the idea of it is probably a lot more exciting than the reality. (Actually, I take that back, Johnny is probably completely epic for a no strings night, so just pass my details his way if you know him.)

When I was planning my move to the rural outdoors, you should have seen the images flying through my busy rush-hour-congestion-charge addled mind. I envisaged fields and trees, waterfalls and butterflies, and of course, a house to die for. I dreamt of a beauty of a cottage with a big wooden front door, stable stylee, covered in blooming, fragrant blossoms. Inside this door, my little pea brain would step into a house with charm and character, that I absolutely would tactfully show off in "25 Beautiful Homes" on a regular basis as I revamped its shabby chic interior to match the next seasons discerning home trends. And all this of course, I summised perfectly, whilst baking endless tasty yet tasteful cakes like Nigella and raising a brood of perfectly behaved little prince and princesses who just absolutely had to model for Mini Boden on a regular basis. I had created bourgeois heaven in my deprived state of Big Citydom.

However. I didn't get it.

A lady I met when I first moved here did though. Oh and did she work her butt off to get it, it was criminal. Then she moved, thank god because she was hideous and I couldn't bloody well bear her, what a snob.

And there in lies the problem, well, the two problems really for City girls in a country location. We either dream an impossible dream and over-romanticise pathetically about what we see in quite naughtily misleading magazines (c'mon, who really lays their own family breakfast table the night before with little name places made out of stones collected from the local forest, oh purleese). Or, we actually work our arses off to get this, become the most smug, annoying, and quite honestly, boring women around. And its pitiful - we worked hard for this level of perfection, and only the ones with real OCD (not like us faker OCD'ers who just aspire for it and cannot actually be bothered to clean that much or care about it) achieve it.

What I found out in reality is I didn't know why I wanted it. I admit I do have a soft spot for perfection, I dream that silly rose coloured dream, yet when I put the hard work in to get it, I get uptight and annoying about it. I have a feeling its about order, and control, and in these tangled times of many divorces, working all hours, and single parents, it was for me, a little bit of nostalgia about tradition. But the modern woman in me still rebelled. I shall tell more tomorrow. Night.

My First Post

So here I am, ready to dive into a world of words I do not understand yet. My first Blog, and I can't wait to start to record and review life as I know it today. A life very far removed from all my previous existances, it being filled now with lots of time and space in a small, market town. And all this after growing up in the suburban underbelly of South London, Croydon (cue big hoopla earrings, scraped back hair and a shell suit, yes I can see your mental image there).

It is a big change, great and different in equal measure. Do I love the change? At times I do and I feel on top of the world, and at others, I want to escape such a quiet life where the local shops all shut at 7pm and I can't go out to a decent bar at the weekend without it being a mission to get there and back! But changes they are, so its time to list them and recall them - I hope it will help me to learn to appreciate what I have today and not to wish for what I want tomorrow.