I know there isn’t an ideal place and time but having moved from a city back to a small town is driving me insane. I’m in danger of going gaga and I’ve nowhere to go other than the same usual streets and shops. I know you can get used to anything so maybe I should persevere but it’s all a bit trying.
I’ve gone from spending a few hours writing six or seven days a week to writing hardly anything at all and staying in is preferable to dealing with the annoying imbalance in the local demography. It doesn’t help that I no longer use the underground/ bus/ train, where I used to read and got the day off to a lively start. Nor does it help that I live so close to the tiny town centre.
Despite feeling like this, I found on my return (after two and half years) that the local council has given permission for another hotel in the middle of the town, even though some period hotels are left to rot and others are taking in more hen and stag parties or foreign “students” in order to survive. And a new block of flats, which blocks the view of the sea, is being built on a narrow but busy road leading to the centre. I’m sure the town could retain or possibly rediscover its identity without overdevelopment of this kind.
My only conclusion is that, after experiencing a rise in my stress levels, I have to create my own environment until I can move elsewhere.