A month or so ago I wrote a letter to the cottage on the hill near the golf course. I did not send it.
Since I wrote the letter some people have moved into the cottage. I feel very sad, because I have seen those people and I know they do not suit the cottage. They have modern furniture and they have hideous horsey ornaments in the window. I feel sorry for that cottage, because I would have shown it so much more love and respect. In this capitalist society love and respect is meaningless, because only money matters. I did not have any money to buy the cottage. I only have love and respect.
Today I walked fast across the vales, through the woods and over the hills. It is icy on the paths. Careful as you go. The green shoots coming up in the woods have not progressed any further. I am watching over them. They are a signal for springtime. I love the springtime, but I also love winter. I don't want it to leave. I never want the seasons to leave. I always think that whatever season I am in is the best one by far. Winter is cold and crisp. You can see everything; the countryside is open and vast. There are no tics to worry about, I don't overheat when I walk really fast so that my calf muscles hurt. The lakes are frozen over and glimmer in the sunshine. The earth is frozen dry; it is so much easier to walk compared to the slushy mud of autumn and spring.
Here is the letter :(
Dear cottage on the hill near the golf course,
I go walking in this area quite frequently. I live with my parents in the village. Ours is the little white cottage in the middle of the terrace opposite Bridge Street. I do like living in the little white cottage, but it’s small, and I’m running out of space for my books.
I have noticed you have been empty for quite some months. Earlier in the year a window would be opened every so often, but that hasn’t even happened for some time. You stay silent and cold. It’s coming up to Christmas, and I am sure you are very lonely up there.
If you are at all interested, I am seeking residency is the area. I’m very neat, and respectful of old houses such as yourself.
But perhaps you need some more background on me; maybe I am still too much of a stranger. There are many beautiful places to walk around these three neighbouring villages in these three neighbouring counties. So although I walk most days of the week, I probably only take the routes by you once a week or so. But I’m sure you’d recognise me. I am a girl, in her twenties. I have glasses and messy brown hair. I don’t have a dog. Almost everyone else who walks around these parts has a dog. They have stopped putting their dogs on leads when they see me approach, because they’ve learnt by now that I go for a walk most days, even though I don’t have a dog.
My occupation is a writer. But I am still very young, and everything I have got published so far has not been for money. This means that I have a part time job, which is at the discount bookshop in the nearest town. It doesn’t earn me enough to be able to live in my own house. I could get a proper job, and then afford to move into my own place, but that would mean giving up being a writer. That is not an option for me.
I really love the countryside a lot. I have tried to live in towns, and even lived in a city for a little while. But I hated it there. I much prefer to be close to the seasons and the air.
So now you know a little more about me. I was just wondering if you wanted to team up? I could live with you; you’d offer me shelter and space, and I would offer you warmth and love. How does that sound to you?
Anyway, I’ll pass you many more times in my lifetime, so I’m sure we can discuss this matter further at a later date.
Miss J Bell.