The last few years have seen me be uncharacteristically sad over summer time. Last year I was stuck in a situation I hope no one replicates, and this year, through no fault of anyone else, I have been struggling. However there is solace to my sadness. In the saddest of my feelings I have met the and lived with the best of people, as I mentioned in a previous post, and I have experienced things that have led me to be a better person. One of my very good friends invited me and plus one up to the Lake District for a grown up holiday of walks and cream tea. It was a break I very much was needing as everything seems to be accelerating at 210% when I’m only capable of 60% at the moment.
Things I learnt from my time in Aberystwyth last summer is that you can get tired of a pretty place. But only if you are there for too long. You see, for me, the landscape doesn’t change much. The sea is always the sea, albeit the green, blue or grey and the hills will always have their shape. Buildings come and go, but relatively the place is the same. I can watch the sun go down over the sea night after night, reclaim some little solace to wake up in the morning to be faced with a pretty place I am trapped in. Stepping away from it I can admire the beauty the town has to offer, as a place, a solid – rather than the people that broke the place for me. From this however I became a cynic with a pretty view. Yes the rolling hills look nice. Oh, wow. You can see for miles. Nothing became exciting. The main reason I shied away from landscape photography as there wasn’t hidden beauty.
This has all changed. Realising that I can move away and find opportunity for me elsewhere has changed everything. Triggering this of course was the aforementioned weekend away in the Northern part of the Lake District.
I took a drive. Not an easy one, a hard one full of sharp single track hairpins and steep slopes. The views were worth it. The clouds were worth it. The iconic grey misery that sweeps Britain as the stereotype is something that I will miss. Grey, hanging mist, dreary drizzle patting against a window, while you can drink a cup of earl grey is something quintessentially I associate with my time stuck in the Great British Indoors.
I’ll miss these treasured little places that I shared with friends. But there is always the solace that landscapes and places don’t change that much so maybe in a few years time I can come back again, revisit and revitalise this. Being a landscape cynic made me an unhappy person and that is not something I can accept.
Heres a little vid I made