In search of the elusive
I like peace and quiet. Silence. The silence that can be experienced on a distant moor, in the high mountains or in a snow covered valley far above the arctic circle. It is rarely entirely silent. The sound of waves lapping on the shore, the hoot of distant owl, the clucking of ptarmigan in the undergrowth or the bark of the muntjac deer noises that seem to add not detract from the peacefulness.
Oh I do like to be beside the seaside - Spain 2022
I like the dark too. Not the true darkness, the absence of light that can be found deep in the earths caves. That’s just a bit too much. Unnerving. I like the darkness of nighttime. When stars in the sky are visible maybe even a glimpse of the Milky Way. Even when the moon is full and bright enough to cast moon shadows. That’s the darkness I love.
Give me that kind of quiet, a lovely dark night and a comfortable place to lay my head and I will sleep like a baby. (The happy content type, not the bawling teething type).
In a Norwegian Mountian Hut in 2022 - Getting ready for a great night’s sleep
And yet I live in the South East of England. On a main road (I know, I only have myself to blame, that and work). Where, in the summer heat when windows and curtains must be open to assuage the stifling heat, every street lit nighttime hour is beset with a cacophony of sound. Cars passing the house at speeds between 30 and 6,000 miles an hour, and in the late and early hours, aeroplanes turning to land at Heathrow. I haven’t slept since May! An exaggeration perhaps, but still.
This was bought home to me yet again on a recent short visit to a campsite near Chichester. Gandalf (our campervan) has a canvas pop top in which we sleep. So he is susceptible to external light sources and sounds. The Saturday night was particularly irritating. Seemingly every 2-3 minutes another motorbike would begin its roaring journey from one end of West Sussex to the other with another one or two always joining to make a duet before the solo could finish.
I gave up. Burying my head in the duvet helped with the light but the noise became unbearable. I got up at 2am and went for a little walk around the campsite. Only to discover the source of quite a lot of the intrusive light.
Two AM, or 02.00hrs. Either way, early morning with no-one around.
I’ll swear I saw a hedgehog wearing sunglasses!
Why, oh why?
What is the obsession with fairy lights once everyone has gone to bed? It’s not Christmas. I know, I checked, and yet (this is the second ‘and yet.’ - That was the third.) there they were. A dazzling display of pointless neon pointillism to delight… no one except the insomniacs and me and I could have certainly done without them. We no longer need to keep a fire going to ward off dangerous animals. We no longer have the night terrors. There really is no longer any need for we town dwellers to be afraid of the dark because we have done away with it. We have tamed the dark in all areas with neon lights. For safety, for security. For heaven’s sake!
Telescope meets camera meets full moon - Spain 2021
I gazed for a long time at a beautiful waxing gibbous moon (well on its way to full moon status) and apologised on behalf of the human race for preventing it from sharing a night sky with stars. We, the human race pollute on so many levels. When will we recognise the damage we do to mental wellbeing from this constant battle with noise and light pollution?
More importantly, when will I stop whining and move house?
Any suggestions as to where? Blackpool is not an option.
