Great Bedwyn, Thursday 5th April

Its very strange revisiting a place, which was once so familiar. The "cottage" in Bedwyn, for close on twenty years, was a fixed point of security and comfort. In the heart of Wiltshire is was a place where nothing nasty could possibly happen.

When situations became a little edgy at University or when incidents got dangerous abroad, then I would think of the woods, fields, villages and towns around Bedwyn and think of complete and utter safety. “Why am I allowing myself to have a beer glass smashed into my face in this unfamiliar town in France when I could just be at home in Bedwyn.” I once thought having come home with six stitches in my chin after a night out with friends in Pau. Or, “Why am I driving along this God forsaken road in Galicia at 1 in the morning with this loser of a boyfriend when I could just be at home in Bedwyn.”

Yet, at the same time, although Great Bedwyn was great as a place of recuperation – it was good for only a couple of weeks or so. Or so I thought as a teenager/eraly twenty something. Any longer and the quiet, cosy, comfort of the village felt suffocating and the need to be away and live life again took a hold. That year in France was one of the best years I’ve ever had and, OK, so the guy was a tosser but we still saw loads of sights and looking back it was a great experience given that we did drive off the beaten track all the time and saw bits of the Iberian peninsular that most tourists don’t. So, here I am back again. This time with four children. My life perspective has changed, of course, and the cosy security of the village seems appealing rather than suffocating.

We are spending a couple of nights in The Cross Keys pub on the corner of Farm Lane. It’s a perfect place to stop before we hit Cornwall and time we met up with some old friends. Having lived in The Middle all these years my senses are on high alert; sensitive to all that I once took so much for granted but haven’t experienced in years. Has England changed? What will be new? How will I feel?

Has England changed? Well Great Bedwyn hasn’t. Not physically anyway. No new housing developments, no new roads, no new trees planted. Same Post Office; same Spa Shop; same pubs with the same names … it has, if possible, got even posher though with some distinguished people having moved there, or so I hear, and a lot more families with young children making it their home …. or so I gather. Its picture postcard, pretty properties, perfect – if you can afford it of course. House prices are exclusive and I doubt we could afford living there. Oh yes, G. did note that a tree on the cross-roads in the middle of the Savernake forest had been cut down. That is quite a change.

Still, there are a number of differences between England and The Middle. Attitudes, customs, habits that I once considered so “normal” now seem oddly different:

Pets. Practically everyone we visit has at least one pet … from dogs to cats to gerbils to chickens to rabbits to birds … and I had so much anxiety about buying three goldfish.
Dr Kipling’s “French Fancies”: The children were offered these and they looked so enticing all covered in bright pink, green, orange and yellow icing. The kids all grabbed for one, took one bite and said (rather impolitely) “I don’t like those Mummy” – so to make up for their impoliteness I ate four “French Fancies”.
Carpets. The Middle, being rather Nordic/Germanic does not do carpets. I can honestly say I don’t know anyone who has a carpet apart from us (we have one room carpeted). Its not a snobby thing although to English readers, no doubt, this sounds very snobby. Its just that people don’t think of using carpets here. Instead they plump for underground heating/tiles/wooden floorboards etc. I am reminded though of how warm and comforting carpets can be. The combination of pet cats and carpets, though, is bad news for G. and his cat allergy. He begins popping Zyrtec like a first year undergraduate popping e-pills at a rave in Essex.
Crooked houses: Six years ago when we were renovating our first house in The Middle some young people had bought an old terraced house up the road from us. It had been renovated only two years before. The new couple, however, decided to knock all the plaster out and start again because the previous owners, when renovating, had not got the walls exactly straight. The plaster followed the angle of the old wall and was not an exact 90°. No such nonsense here. The floors in The Cross Keys were so crooked that K.M. and I thought we were still feeling dizzy from the ferry until we realised that the carpeted floor of the children’s bedroom was undulating.

When we drove into Marlborough to buy some food for a picnic the first things I bought were milk chocolate Hobnobs and Hot Cross Buns. Sod the healthy apples. Milk chocolate Hobnobs - the best thing ever with a nice steaming cup of tea after a day out with too many children.