A Rye reality

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2038

The year 2022 has already proven to be a somewhat challenging one and without meaning to dampen your spirits, we are only just about halfway through. The “end” of the pandemic may have brought us out of our homes and back into the world we once knew but I think if we were all honest with ourselves, it hasn’t been easy. We are certainly all trying to find the new “normal”, whether it be this strangely wonderful concept of hybrid working or the entire population’s relentless obsession with Zoom calls when social contact has finally been embraced and face masks now a rarity in the streets.

On top of this, we’ve all had to process emotionally the Russian invasion of Ukraine, manipulate an outrageous housing market that destroys any glimmer of hope for the first-time buyer and survive an-ever-worsening cost of living crisis and disgustingly high prices at the petrol pump. I do wonder how long the £99 limit of fuel will last at the self-service pumps when my 1.4L Duster soaked up £90 worth of fuel the other day.

And whilst this is all swirling in our heads and our hearts, nobody seems to mention the smaller more trivial problems that encroach on our day-to-day lives. No milk in the fridge when you’re desperate for that first cup of coffee as you force your eyes open for the day ahead. And of course, a lot of us have to get in the car to get to the shops for said milk, looking slightly worse for wear. We live in the country; you can’t possibly walk anywhere.

Another one of life’s gems is the fuel light in your car blinking halfway on your already-late-to-work journey, and you begin to make a bet with yourself on just how far you can stretch that last drop of petrol sitting in the tank. Then there are the slightly bigger problems; your cat goes missing for six days (more on that later), and you somehow have to carry on with life as if nothing has changed, hearing a mixture of comments ranging from “it’s just a cat” to “that is the most dreadful thing that could ever happen”. Both of which bring you to tears in the middle of your day and ruin the makeup you threw on your face first thing that morning whilst grimacing at the black, bitter coffee you made because you couldn’t bring yourself to go and buy some milk.

No, you could have got some milk; you just didn’t have any fuel in the car.

But out of all the chaos that personifies 2022, it’s these everyday issues that seem to connect us all. There is something oddly comforting in the knowledge that you’re not the only person finding such meaningless tribulations a challenge.

A neighbour of mine once resorted to peppermint tea before a huge client meeting in the wake of a milk-less fridge; a family member broke down on the side of the A21 because they pushed the fuel gauge just that little bit too far. And my friend’s cat also went missing, however they strolled in a week later after massacring the entire population of mice within a mile radius. It’s what brings us all together, and helps us to know we’re not alone.

And whether you live in Rye, Winchelsea, Fairlight, Broad Oak Brede, there’s something very “Sussex” that brings us all together. We share our own little problems of living a semi-rural lifestyle, but relish in the joys that our wonderful county has to offer.

Nothing brushes the cobwebs from my mind like the cobbles of Mermaid Street and the crunchy, salty goodness of Marino’s fish and chips as you gaze over the winding marshes from a bench perched in the grounds of Rye castle. It’s our county, and they’re our peaks and falls to embrace and be proud of. And I think if we start seeing these daily tests as a collective shared experience rather than “the worst always seems to happen to me”, we can recognise when those around us are having just one of those days. Then, we can listen. Then, we can help.

Image Credits: Daisy Thomas .

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