Reflecting on our first ten days

So we're back on the Mainland. I love that word. It conveys the fact we're living on an island - another word I like using. "We've just moved to the Island", or "We're going back to the Mainland for Christmas". (I'm deliberately capitalising them, whether it's correct to do so or not.) Both words are suggestive of some kind of romanticism, reinforcing the fact we've made a big decision, moving to somewhere seen as a little off grid - quirky even.

We're staying with my sister Susie and her husband James. They're great, not least because they are the very opposite to myself and Mrs. G in the kitchen. I'm afraid neither of us is in any way creative or inventive when it comes to cooking. James, on the other hand, spends his time concocting fantastically exotic dishes such as octopus with pavlova or stewed hippopotamus with garlic and kidney. Our efforts are pathetically perfunctory; we just wander over to the freezer, extract whatever's nearest, chuck it in the oven and 25 minutes later shout up to the kids that dinner's ready. And after tonight's meal Susie beat me in an arm wrestle (though anyone can beat me in an arm wrestle). And they're storing some of our stuff. And they put us up for ten days when we were between houses. So they're just irritatingly great - but that's enough about them!

Now we're back on the said Mainland for a few days over Christmas it affords an opportunity to reflect on the whole relocating thing: the wisdom of it, whether our views of the Island have changed and how we're all settling in -  in many respects quite dull questions, but existential ones which I'll pontificate on a little.

Ewan has always been sceptical of the move, though could never quite pin down why. He'd come up with fatuous reasons, such as "it's so hilly", or sociological ones: "it's not diverse enough". Let's explore that latter point: it's true that much of the Isle of Wight is white, but no more so than many other rural places in Britain. I love Herefordshire and the Welsh Marches, which are no different. (I've researched it.) The population is perhaps a touch more elderly, but that's the way the whole country is going. Diversity can be measured in many ways, and where I think Ewan needs to think about this more creatively is in the diverse characters and people we've met already; people from a wide range of socio-economic backgrounds with a variety of political views. And the thing that seems to bind everyone together is 'community'; everyone seems to buy into it and value it. Ok so all that is on the evidence of ten days, but that's our impression so far.

The most cogent reason for his scepticism that Ewan has come up with is "you only like it because you're on holiday". This might be true, I have to concede. The challenge is going to be to make sure it stays special.

 Every time I commute, whether by car or bike on stunning Cowleaze Hill between Shanklin and Ventnor (if it opens post landslide), it needs to continue to thrill me in some way. The road snakes round the headland affording an amazing view of the chalky Culver Down in the distance, the promontory south of Sandown which pokes out into the sea like the most beautful middle finger sign! On holiday I'd always drive to Ventnor via this road even though its not the most direct route; it's just so unbelievably stunning!

I alluded to the 'wisdom' of our adventure earlier; now I come to think about it I'm not sure wisdom is a good measure of success. Happiness is a better metric, surely. And in terms of how we've settled in, we're  happy. We met some friends from Hadlow earlier, and I mentioned that we were going 'home' on Boxing Day. As I said it, it sounded weird. 'Home'! Ventnor doesn't feel like home yet, of course. At some undefined point in the future it will, I'm sure. I'm looking forward to going back to the Island in a couple of days which is a start.

Another reason Ewan will trot out when he's internally rolling his eyes at the move is that it's so far from everywhere. Except it isn't. Not at all. Yesterday we boarded a 10am ferry at Fishbourne and were in Kent by 12:30. Being an intelligent and knowledgeable chap he knows this, but his comment reflects a 'feeling'. Ventnor and the Island seem isolated, but it isn't. It's not in the middle of the Cairngorms. And that's one of the reasons I love it, and actually one of the reasons I adore our green and pleasant land. You can be out in a semi-wilderness but never that far from civilisation.

That said there are folk out there who think the Isle of Wight is a different country. Freya's friend Fraya simply could not understand how it could be in the same country, and my brother-in-law James thought it was some kind of independent territory like Jersey or the Isle of Man. Incidentally, another thing I like is when an island is called  the 'Isle' of something. 'Wight' or 'Man' just wouldn't be the same. Or 'Dogs'. On the other hand some islands are just given one name, like 'Skye'. (Or Australia?)

So people think it's either in the back of beyond or a different country. I suppose this reinforces the idea that it's definitely perceived as being a tad exotic. I think we've had got less of a surprised reaction if we'd moved to say, Luton or Stoke-on-Trent. And I doubt I'd have done a blog if we were now residents of either of those fine Bedfordshire or Potteries towns.

So to conclude, it's a case of 'so far so good'. When the new year is upon us and we start work and our individual routines, that will be the test. You won't be surprised to hear I'll let you know how that goes!