baroque_mongoose: A tabby cat with a very intelligent expression looking straight at the camera. (Default)
Rejoice with me! I'm getting my inheritance after all. The clever solicitor found a clause which enables my sisters simply to give me the money and shut down the trust fund, and last night I was able to confirm that this is, indeed, what is happening. (There was a very small amount of doubt because they were making noises about getting the best return on the money, so I had to explain that I am not remotely interested in getting the best return on the money because there is enough. More than enough, in fact. I am not planning to go wild. I am planning to buy a modest house back up north, finish my degree, and live in my customary fashion on the rest until my pension comes through on my 67th birthday... by which time, if I am still alive, there will be a very good chunk of it remaining as back-up, because my regular lifestyle is not expensive, though I never feel I'm stinting myself. I don't need a whole slew of complicated investments. I'll probably bung a bit of it in an ISA or similar, and the rest in a savings account of some sort.)

So. Things continue as normal for a little under a year (there has to be a gap due to probate; I'm fine with that, as I originally thought it was going to be a much longer gap), with the exception that I now know I can definitely sign up for my next course module without having to muck about trying to get hold of other sources of funding to continue after that. I have enough in the bank at the moment to cover that and still have a decent enough cushion to tide me over till the inheritance comes through (I doubt I'll even need that, but if the washing machine bricks itself or something like that, it's nice not to have to wonder how to replace it). And then, next spring, I become a moderately rich mongoose, I buy my little house (though, I hope, somewhat bigger than this flat - that is not a high bar to meet!), I move into it, I carry on studying... and I never have to suffer another East Anglian summer again. It's pretty nearly always a few degrees cooler up there than here, which is fine by me at any time of year, but in the summer it's an absolute godsend.

Of course, travelling back and forth to look at houses is beyond awkward, so what I'm going to do is draw up a list of specifications and ask my sister (who, of course, lives locally) to go and look at places for me and report back. To be honest, I can not only trust her to do that but to spot little details I might miss; I've spent so much of my life renting that I don't really know what to look for in something like a boiler, because most of my experience of boilers is "the landlord sends someone to look at that every so often". She, however, has to know about that kind of thing because she owns her own home, so she'll pick up on potentially dodgy boilers or anything of that nature.

And, you know, at some point I may very well get a new washing machine anyway. This one came with the flat (it was installed by mistake, so it came as a gift because I was the first tenant), and it's a washer-dryer. I am not fond of it. I very rarely use the dryer facility, and on the theoretical wool wash (I don't have any wool, but I do have a lot of viscose, which goes in there) it has a nasty habit of leaving white powder all over my laundry. I'm pretty certain that is the water softener, because I don't use anything else powdery (I use soap nuts rather than detergent, as a matter of fact, and I can heartily recommend them). But it means I need to have at my leggings and my viscose T-shirts with a clothes brush once they're dry, before I can put them away; and I'd sooner not. It's true that, where I plan to move, the water is beautifully soft and I'll be able to ditch the water softener altogether; but even so, I don't love that machine.

Maybe I'll leave it as a gift for the next tenant.
baroque_mongoose: A tabby cat with a very intelligent expression looking straight at the camera. (Default)
One of the things my recent trip up north really underlined for me was how much I dislike living in this town. Let me be very clear that the community is great; I've met some incredibly nice people here. The town itself, though, is extremely unsatisfactory; and the surrounding area doesn't help. Having grown up in the middle of some beautifully rugged scenery, I don't take too well to living in an almost completely flat area, and I don't cope with the climate well either. It's not so bad in the winter, when we do get actual rain fairly regularly; but during the summer it is literally drier than some parts of the Sahara Desert, and I hate seeing the vegetation struggling with that. By about September all the grassy areas look like ancient and ill-used coir doormats, and it's depressing. Then the rain starts and we're all giving heartfelt thanks.

I could, however, put up with all that reasonably well if it weren't for the ongoing lack of facilities. For instance, I've been here five and a half years now, and the community centre is only just being built now. Initially it was located in a wing of the primary school, but the school needed to claim it back after not too long; so we were without one at all for several months. Those community groups who could afford to do so (plus our food bank, who were allowed to use the venue free of charge because we're a charitable concern) moved temporarily into the secondary school, which was at that point right on the edge of the town, though the town centre will eventually be out that way. That made it difficult for a lot of people, especially things like toddler groups, because it was too far away from where most people lived. It wasn't a good venue for the food bank due to privacy/dignity concerns, and so after a while we moved out to a neighbouring village, where they had a much better venue but it obviously wasn't ideal because we were supposed to be the food bank for [New Town]. Then, after a while, they stuck up a portakabin on the Green, which was a great deal better, but it isn't very big, and initially the roof leaked. They did, I'm happy to say, fix that quite quickly. That's been going for... oh, what, a year or two now, and the new one's going up alongside it. Finally.

The lack of shops is a huge problem, especially for me because I don't drive; so I can't just nip down to Tesco (which is pretty nearly in Cambridge) or Sainsbury's (which actually is in Cambridge) if I run out of anything. Ironically, all the bumf that was originally handed out to new residents put a lot of emphasis on the idea that nobody would need to use a car here, because of all the great walking/cycling routes and public transport. I've already touched on the inadequacy of the walking/cycling routes; the public transport exists but is pretty minimal; and most people can't manage without a car here. But the place was supposed to be designed so that you could, and therefore there isn't enough parking, which means that people habitually park in the cycle lanes. I get round this by doing all my shopping online, but I resent that quite strongly because it forces me into a routine. It seriously messes with my ability to be spontaneous. (And I'm already forced into one unwanted routine by my medication, but there's nothing I can do about that, so I'm much more inclined to accept it as simply a fact of life; whereas in most places there isn't this situation where I have to know pretty much exactly what, and how much, I'm going to eat or drink for the next week, because if I'm short of something or I get the fit to do some baking or I want to invite someone round I can just nip out and get whatever I need.)

I don't actively hate routines; they can have their uses. Some routines are helpful in that they save me having to remember odd little things. But, on the other hand, I don't like them for their own sake, and I really hate being trapped in them. I suppose it doesn't really help that my late father really liked routines, to the extent that the whole family had to follow them no matter what and he got very upset if they had to be broken for any reason. So if I got into any kind of routine when I was a child, even a simple one like regularly listening to a programme on the radio, I was expected to need to keep it at all costs; to the point where I asked my mother if I could go out blackberrying, and she replied, "No, because you want to listen to your programme." Because obviously I did, because that was the routine. Except that actually I didn't. I wanted to go out blackberrying. (And in the end I did get to go, as a result of a misunderstanding and the fact that my mother wasn't really listening to me because I was a child; and, to my amazement and delight, I didn't get into any trouble for it when I got back, so that's probably the happiest memory of my entire childhood.)

So, despite all the lovely people here, I'm actively considering moving out. I want to go back up north. After all, I can always keep in touch with the said lovely people by e-mail; I do a lot of that in any case, given how scattered my family and friends are right now. I've never been comfortable living here, but it was only the trip up north that fully enabled me to articulate why: this place makes it difficult to be who I am. Simple as that.

There are rumours that they're going to put up some temporary shops here, which is at least better than nothing; but it's not at all satisfactory. For a start, if the "temporary" community centre is anything to go by, they'll be here a long time, and because they're temporary there won't be any incentive for the shopkeepers to develop them nicely. For another thing, why not just build proper shops from the get-go? And, probably most importantly, nothing here ever happens when people tell you it will. One of my fellow food bank volunteers moved into the area 15 years ago on the promise that all kinds of fancy facilities were just about to be built here (before any of the houses went up). Not one of them has yet been built. All we have here, other than a large and growing number of houses, is: several schools and children's playgrounds; two churches (neither of which has its own building); a temporary community centre (plus one a-building); a sports pavilion, for some reason (I have no idea who thought that was more important than shops or medical facilities); and a post box. Triumphant. Honestly, if we have even one decent shop in this town before I die I'm going to be flabbergasted.

I'm not proposing to wait that long.

Profile

baroque_mongoose: A tabby cat with a very intelligent expression looking straight at the camera. (Default)
baroque_mongoose

May 2026

S M T W T F S
      1 2
3 4 5 6 7 8 9
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
31      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated May. 9th, 2026 08:58 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios