It’s been over a year since I lived here, and I feel strangely anonymous. I don’t see a familiar face every time I'm out walking, and about a quarter of the shops were not here when I was last. Instead of new, most things are vaguely familiar.
When I walk into a store, no one smiles in faint, or familiar, recognition. One day, I will be friends with the new cheese-monger, but not yet.
The good news is that I notice more, again. I have to think before crossing the roads, and I look around so that I don’t get lost. Today, I have noticed again . . . that the elderly people in the town still smile at me, even though I could be one of the partying students. That’s phenomenal. I want to be old and friendly.
There are things here that never cease to amaze me, like roses in October, and the eager waves. There's an airy brown coating on fish and chips that is delectable in the extreme. Salt, no vinegar.
I still notice that people eat ice cream in 40 degree weather, as long as the sun is shining.
And my wonderful man still holds my hand.