The quiet life of the country has never
appealed to me. City born and city bred,
I have always regarded the country as
something you look at through a train
window, or something you occasionally
visit during the week-end. Most of my
friends live in the city, yet they always go
into raptures at the mere mention of the
country. Though they extol the virtues of
the peaceful life, only one of them has
ever gone to live in the country and he
was back in town within six months. Even
he still lives under the illusion that
country life is somehow superior to town
life. He is forever talking about the
friendly people, the clean atmosphere,
the closeness to nature and the gentle pace of living. Nothing can be compared,
he maintains, with the first cock crow, the twittering of birds at dawn, the sight
of the rising sun glinting on the trees and pastures. This idyllic pastoral scene is
only part of the picture. My friend fails to mention the long and friendless
winter evenings which are interrupted only by an occasional visit to the local
cinema-virtually the only f.mp3 of entertainment. He says nothing about the
poor selection of goods in the shops, or about those unfortunate people who have
to travel from the country to the city every day to get to work. Why people are
prepared to tolerate a four hour journey each day for the dubious privilege of
living in the country is beyond my ken. They could be saved so much misery
and expense if they chose to live in the city where they rightly belong.
If you can do without the few pastoral pleasures of the country, you will find
the city can provide you with the best that life can offer. You never have to
travel miles to see your friends. They invariably live nearby and are always
available for an inf.mp3al chat or an evening's entertainment. Some of my
acquaintances in the country come up to town once or twice a year to visit the
theatre as a special treat. For them this is a major operation which involves
considerable planning. As the play draws to its close, they wonder whether they
will ever catch that last train home. The city dweller never experiences anxieties
of this sort. The latest exhibitions, films, or plays are only a short bus ride away.
Shopping, too, is always a pleasure. There is so much variety that you never have
to make do with second best. Country people run wild when they go shopping
in the city and stagger home loaded with as many of the necessities of life as
they can carry. Nor is the city without its moments of beauty. There is something
comforting about the w.mp3 glow shed by advertisements on cold wet winter
nights. Few things could be more impressive than the peace that descends on
deserted city streets at week-ends when the thousands that travel to work every
day are tucked away in their homes in the country. It has always been a mystery
to me why city dwellers, who appreciate all these things, obstinately pretend
that they would prefer to live in the country.