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A SENSE OF BELONGING: THE REALITY OF RELOCATION

Relocating to the countryside: beautiful views, wild flowers, coast nearby my heart sank into my boots where it stayed for a very long time. The move meant leaving my friends, my job, our comfortable family home along with the lovely garden we had designed and dug ourselves. Over the years I had worked hard to build a support network (especially important as my husband is a shiftworker) along the lines described in your August article about the number of women in your life. Leaving that network behind left a huge gap, rather like a bereavement.

For the first few weeks in the new area it felt like being on holiday. When some friends had visited and went home to Berkshire I felt I was ready to go home as well. I felt stranded. The isolation of not knowing a single soul is extremely unnerving. I was pathetically pleased when a checkout operator recognised me. Phone bills are huge. The frustration of not being able to pop down the road to see a friend defies belief.

It is rewarding to make new friendships although they can never replace the old ones. That sense of shared history is missing. "Putting down roots" is an old saying but very valid and contributes to a sense of belonging. I found it particularly irritating when one or two locals referred to their families as having been in the area for several generations. I quietly replied that I, too, had been a "local" once. In a new area that real sense of belonging is absent and it is difficult to define when it will occur.

Living in a holiday area trying to lead a normal' life is quite strange. Despite moving away from the so-called rat-race' area, driving conditions are extremely hazardous. One the one hand you meet tourists meandering along at 20-30 miles an hour enjoying the scenery whilst on the other you meet locals careering along at 60 miles an hour seemingly not expecting to come across any other motorist in the narrow lanes. Added to this are the extraordinarily large farm vehicles, lorries, coaches and caravans using the lanes; not to mention herds of cows on their way to be milked. I found it quite an odd experience, for example, to drive to a parents' evening at my daughter's school to find tourists meandering all over the town licking enormous ice creams. In an area famed for easing away life's stresses and strains, it is quite alien to be leading a normal busy life. Envy of those with time to enjoy the delights of the area is a frequent feeling.

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