New habits

When I moved to Gatehouse I was worried about noise. I have never lived so close to traffic. My bay windows look straight into the pavement, and people walk by. People: mostly students, noisy, shouting, laughing. Cars and buses. There is a traffic light right in front of me; it squeals when it changes to green. But after just a couple of days I don't notice it any more. It's just part of my environment.

I was worried that I could not open windows. I like sleeping with windows open, and obviously I cannot now. I hate curtains; I like to see light when I wake up. I am used to waking up to see a green lawn, roses, conifers. There isn't much of a view from my windows. I am used to seeing the moon and Jupiter through my bedroom window. Now I have to draw a curtain because there is a street lamp right in front of the window.

I hate closed doors. Particularly when you have cats, you can never close doors because cats need to be able to come and go as they please. But even otherwise I don't like to be in a room with doors closed. It feels like being in a hotel. In Gatehouse, I need to close doors to keep heat. My front door is a very British front door – excuse me for being prejudiced. The gaps are almost large enough to put a hand through. If it gets really cold outside I may need to hang a blanket over the door. The British have never learned how to insulate their homes. So I have to close all doors and conserve energy, and it makes me feel claustrophobic. But you know what? I am used to it now.

Back in Sweden, we had a tumble dryer. It is essential in Sweden, particularly in winter. When we moved to Woodside ten years ago, there was a washing machine, but no tumble dryer. The first thing to do, we said to each other, is to buy a tumble dryer. But somehow we never did, and it turned out that in the mild Cambridgeshire climate you could have an outdoor clothesline. Now I am back to tumble-drying which feels odd.

I have few clothes that need ironing. Gatehouse came with an iron, but no ironing board. I haven't brought my ironing board. On a rare occasion when I might need to iron something, I will probably miss my ironing board. That said, I lived the first twenty-nine years of my life without an ironing board so I believe I can cope.

In the past thirty-seven years, we made coffee one cup at a time with a funnel and paper filter. It took a lot of persuasion to switch from boiling water in a pot on the hob to an electric kettle. During a very short time we had a fancy coffee machine that I loved, but my significant other hated, so we gave it away when we moved to the UK. Now I got myself a cafetiere. I have been skeptical toward them, for no reason, but I have read instructions and learned how to use it, and it's perfect. I should have learned it long ago.

 

My new best friend