WAYFARERS ALL...?

On August the 1st I'll have been living in my current abode for 32 years.  (The official tenancy commencement date is the 4th, but trust me - we moved in on the 1st.)  However, on June 14th, it'll be 47 years since I first moved into the house I now occupy.  How can such an apparent contradiction be the case you may be wondering, so I'll tell you - though if you're a longtime Criv-ite you'll already know the answer.

11 years after having first moved here, my family relocated to a new house in a new neighbourhood, but after just four years, we moved back.  I'd never wanted to leave this house to start with, so naturally enough I was overjoyed to return, and at first it seemed as if we'd never been away.  However, you've read all this before if you're a regular reader of this blog, so no need to go over it again in excruciating detail.

The only reason I mention it now is because I've been thinking about previous occasions my family had moved house (I'd been in six different residences by the age of 24), and the effect each new home had on me at the time.  Thinking back, it seemed that I was more aware of each new environment in the initial stages, though that's probably not surprising as everything was making its impression on me for the very first time.  It wasn't just the house and neighbourhood I soaked up in an enhanced state, but also seasons, colours, smells, etc.

It occurs to me that whenever we experience new surroundings, it's like a reset button has been pressed in our heads, and our senses react in an increased capacity, so that the first sunny or rainy days in a new house make more of a dent in our brains than many similar days during our latter years in a former domicile.  The sky seems bluer, the grass greener, the snow whiter, etc.  After we've settled in (after a few years usually), that keen awareness settles down and we view and feel things in a much more muted manner.  I suppose that's because once we're used to a place, we don't really pay it the same attention as we did in the beginning. 

So maybe it's a good thing to change our surroundings every few years - or our places of employment and maybe even careers.  (Whether this includes partners is open to discussion obviously.)  I'd be the first person to sing the praises of familiarity and continuity, but I can't help but remember the first impressions I had upon flitting to a new home and neighbourhood, and measuring it against how I feel now all these years later.  Something seems to be missing, but I don't think I'd be able to cope with a change of residence now in my advanced decrepitude, so I'm not sure how to interpret my occasional restlessness and yearnings for something new.

At times like this, I'm reminded of the chapter entitled 'Wayfarers All' in Kenneth Grahame's magnificent book, The WIND In The WILLOWS (which I heartily recommend), and I settle down again, knowing that yearnings for something fresh are often best left to the imagination than fulfilled in the day-to-day reality of life.

Or perhaps you're of a different opinion?  If so, feel free to express it in our lonely and neglected comments section.  

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