Or some other odd psychological trigger? I have spent my spare time this weekend scouring Rightmove and Gully Howard for options that lead me to the Isle. Rightmove wins out at the moment as there are no freeholds on GH, not such a bad thing as I still have some way to go before I am actually actively searching. Rightmove allows you to click-through to a google streetview and, as my home town stirs from its winter hibernation, I can almost feel the sun on my back and smell the chip and hotdog smell that has become our coastal scent. This is what I find so wonderful about coastal towns, that dawning season is going to annoy and challenge me, tourists that throw garbage all over the place, drink too much and are generally unsociable but it’s still somehow lovely. I will rant about the sheer size of some people during the summer, the ludicrous outfits they wear and the terrible way that they deal with their children but home (and home to be) would not be the same without the seasonal influx and I don’t just mean because of the money.
I don’t know why I love sharing my beautiful town with hordes of less than beautiful people, although I should point out that they are not all bad. The best that I have come up with is that this is like people coming to stay with you but on a bigger scale, instead of lending out my spare room I am lending out my town and the fact that people want to come must mean that I am right to love the place. I guess this is a reassurance that there is a reason why I live here and of course it gives rise to the delight of a sunny Sunday afternoon with a cold beer watching the long line of cars slowly heading back home. Whatever it is, I get a small tingle of excitement this time of year as I anticipate warm sunny days by the beach.
Bring on the Appley