Leonard's rural living datasheet and QnA thread.
06-05-2017, 06:53 PM
A most informative data sheet Leonard. Thank your for taking the time to share your experience from the arse end other side of the world!
I hope you don't mind me contributing my little experience here at the opposite arse end side of the world.
My experience has been very different to yours. Only to be expected I suppose. I do quite envy you (in a good way) with how well things have turned out for you. I hope you only go from strength to strength. I'm sure you will make the best of it, whatever it all throws at you.
My story of moving in to rural culture has been a little more 'soul-destroying' shall we say. Now, first off, I'll be first to admit, it may just be my general state of mind, perhaps I even have a bad attitude towards life, love and people. But I don't think so. My story is not uncommon in fact.
I live in England. The English are funny people. I want to like them. But they make it hard. I live in a notoriously difficult place. It is the most beautiful place of all the British Isles, but it is also recognized for being one of the most inhospitable to strangers. And we are all strangers here. You can never fit in if you weren't born here. Even though my ancestors from 3 generations back actually lived here, it doesn't count.
So, I was always on to a bit of a loser with this place.
Your data sheet makes perfect sense to me. It seems like you are in a place where people look out for each other, and it is a meritocracy of sorts. If you are prepared to put the hard work in, and make the sacrifices (lack of privacy) then you will be accepted in to the fold. There is nothing anyone can do here where I live. Life is easy. It's a town where people retire to die, in fact. No kids around. Except those little darlings cosseted by their proud proud parents.
You may be picking up on the fact that this isn't going to be a happy tale. And that would be right.
I lived in London for many many years. I couldn't wait to get the fuck out at the end of it all, but also I had no choice. I moved to another rural area. Beautiful place. Nice people. But never would you be accepted.
I remember going out to some of the local pubs, introducing myself, being honest, asking nothing of anyone, offering my services humbly where I could without overtly trying to ingratiate myself. I was accepted to an extent. Even liked. Not well-liked. But maybe that's just me. I plodded on. Things went quite well I thought. Slowly I built up my social profile.
Then one night, I went for bust. I was feeling isolated, lonely even, and I wanted to see the bright lights tonight. I made the mistake of going to the main local pub on a Saturday night, where everyone else wanted to see the bright lights as well.
It was rammed to the rafters, insanity. I'd never seen such a melee. I ventured forth, knowing that I knew quite a few of the chaps in there and I didn't mind waiting at the bar to get a pint. I never got served. I was openly ignored. Not a single person spoke to me. All my new found 'friends' from the week and the dead pubs taught me a lesson I'll never forget - 'you don't belong here - you will never be accepted here'. I think I got a pint eventually, but it crushed my soul so much I tucked tail and went home. I wasn't expecting it.
I thought that maybe I was having a bad night, and I ventured forth again a month or two later, after building up further relationships with locals. Maybe this time? Same shit. Nope, not imagining it. It's hard to fathom how people can be so fucking willfully two-faced, but there you go. They can.
It was the worst of both worlds. No anonymity or privacy as you so well explained, Leonard, but with the added ferocity of being shunned as well on top. I don't use the words 'soul crushing' lightly, but I would be lying to admit anything less.
I had to get out of town. I did. I moved to a new place.
I took it even slower this time. Trying to get the bearings.
Ventured forth to the local pub. Kept myself to myself, but not conspicuously so. I was friendly and amenable. I soon became a little popular. "Where are you from?", "What are you doing here?" - all asked with genuine affection and interest. I answered in kind.
It was not more than a week or two later, when I had been sussed out that I had been dropped like a hot stone. To have this in succession in relation to my recent failure, well, how would you feel? This time though, I felt a little 'used', as if I had been had. Doh!
Things never got better from there. I've been here 7/8 years now. I don't know a single soul. I have never been in to anyone else's house and no one has been in to mine. I do not go out to the pubs anymore (not for 4 years or so) - even then it was a rare occasion and always by myself. I did meet a nice Kiwi couple once when out one night. But when I saw them a year later, they were polite but had to leave very quickly. So much for that.
The pubs are empty, with a few of the local drunks. I don't want anything to do with them. Sometimes on a Friday/Saturday night you see a few kids getting loaded up, but they are openly hostile to anyone who is five years older than them, spoiling for a fight.
The close of houses where I live, people do not look at me or speak to me. I am a single man. Many young families pass through with kids. They are openly befriended. I am shunned. Even by the males and 'men' as well. I do not know a single soul and do not have a single friend. This is my life now. It won't change until I move out from here.
I don't think my experience is so different. I know of many other similar tales. It could be that I'm a mad looking bastard that smells and mutters profanities under his breath as he haphazardly saunters down the road. But again, I don't think so. I'm pretty normal in the grand scheme of things. If I had kids I'd be pounced on.
I suppose I could join the Church, and I had great plans for that for a while, but I don't think that will happen now. Too battered and bruised to put myself forward for further rejection. Self-protection kicks in. It's not ideal. But it is necessary.
I'm a very trustworthy person. I want to be a part of my community. I want to contribute. Sweat and tears if I have to. I have a lot to offer. I like to teach and I have several different skills from this to that. I don't have a criminal record. I don't have a sexual interest in children. I don't even have a sexual interest in women these days. That might sound funny, but you haven't seen the ham beasts that roam this land. There is a specific phenotype: short legged, low-slung, fat arse and ugly face.
In fact, the other day I noticed a young girl, just turned 16 I would say, got a new boyfriend. She is only 4 foot something - a midget - also, her fat arse is where most people's knees would be. She rocked up with a 20 year old Audi driving boyfriend who seems to be her first love. Fuck me. There is no hope for humanity. Her 'father' 6'5" of menace gave me attitude the other day when I was walking back from the shops. I've never talked to him. He has always made a point of ignoring me, of not even looking at me, but he still wants to play funny fuckers.
This is life in a rural setting today in England, UK. For a normal well-adjusted man. Not sure how much longer I can stay well-adjusted for.
There is no life around here. No clubs. Except for the walled garden of kiddy clubs. Even though I can pass an intrusive criminal records check, I would still always be seen as a weirdo. There is no hope.
I think I'll just leave it there as you probably get the picture by now. This is just my experience in a certain part of the world. A very brutal part of the world. English people really are a piece of work for the most part. But I prefer it here. Up north they are more friendly, but they also rob your house when you go to the shops as well. At least here there are no problems like that. I don't worry that my guitars won't be here when I get back after grabbing my beers.
I could probably analyse the situation more, but there probably isn't much more to it than small-minded little englanders. They hate the muslims, they hate anything different to them. But they won't ever say it. Cowards come in all shapes and sizes and I feel as if I am among the best of them here.
Leonard, I didn't mean to put a downer on your so very inspiring data sheet, I just thought I'd give a little perspective from this side of the big blue marble.
London was hard. But I know I could go back there tomorrow, walk in to the same pubs that I used to frequent 20 years ago, and there'd be one or two of the old boys left, and we'd have a drink and chew the fat. And I wouldn't get that feeling I got when I made the mistake of going in to the village pub that Saturday night, when the locals were having 'their time together' and I was made to feel the worse sort of cunt there is.
Positive advice?
If you live in London or any other major city in the UK, get your ducks in a row before you move out. Even if you have money, it won't go well for you. Get yourself some nice little Turkish refugee that has nothing to lose. Promise her the world. Make good. Start a family. But going in cold to any rural area of England is a form of suicide that is slow and painful. I think you get the point. No need to labour it further.
But all of this shit just makes my resolve stronger. One day, sweet lord, one fucking day...
This fucking world will be mine!