A diverse offering twixt the interesting, the unusual, and the amusing.
Friday, 16 October 2015
Nice house, shame about the location!... A Cautionary Tale.
When I left college, I bought a very reasonably priced house in Wales, just over the border from North Shropshire; an area I knew quite well. It was located in a tiny hamlet, tucked away
in the gentle folds of Powys sheep-rearing country.
At one time the house had been a pub; it was built of heavy granite, was very old, and quite large. The house also had a big orchard which came with planning permission for another house.
In between teaching duties I spent about a year restoring the old place, which involved installing its first ever bathroom and loo.
After 2 years I sold the house and orchard separately; let's just say I did very well out of it. A good two year's work.
The local man I'd originally bought it from was NOT happy. He told me he wouldn't have sold it to me if he'd known I was just going to make a quick profit. When I told him I was moving to France he became irate, and told me that he hated the French. He was an unpleasant and negative man, full stop.
Of the other few residents of this tiny hamlet, one shot our neighbour's dog (and nearly shot ours), one used to wet her hair every morning from a filthy water butt, and another had never ventured further than about 10 miles from her home. They were a very odd, and insular, bunch of interbred six fingered Welsh weirdos. I disliked each and every one of them. For someone who'd come from the South, had spent several years living in London, and been through 5 years of Art College, they seemed like the worst type of primitive and unpredictable yokels. I was extremely pleased to leave.
Such small insular communities are probably quite rare nowadays, but it was a good lesson in having a really good look around before buying a house; anywhere. I must add that all other Welsh people I've ever met or known (outside of that dreadful hamlet) have been extremely friendly and pleasant.
The photo above does make the Welsh women look like a bunch of witches; which is exactly how I viewed those village residents. When I left the UK, and settled in my present village, the people couldn't have been nicer. What a change!
It’s dawn over Trelawnyd.
The sky looks like one *Turner *would have painted with big clouds tinged
with pink and blue.
I’ve just taken *Dorothy *outside...
23 hours ago
The difference between an optimist and a pessimist, is that the optimist enjoys himself whilst waiting for the inevitable! I AM that optimist!
This is a daily, optimistic, 'photos and comments' blog. I make no judgements (only occasionally), just notes. If you wish to comment in any way at all, please feel free. Everything and everyone (except the obdurate and dictatorial) is very welcome.
I was born just south of London, but for the past 46 years I've lived in S W France. I am a painter by profession, and writer by desire. Lady Magnon and I live in an ancient cottage, in a tiny village, in perfectly tranquil countryside. We have a vegetable garden called 'Haddock's' (this may crop up from time to time), plenty of fruit trees, and a view that takes the breath away; we also have a Border Collie called Billy. I try to treat our planet with respect, and encourage others to do likewise (without preaching).
Contentment is a glass of red, a plate of charcuterie, and a slice of good country bread. Perfect!