What is it about unceasing noise and activity that is so exciting? I don’t know. I’ve lived and worked in London, was born under the Heathrow Airport flight path, have been jostled by crowds at big events and on city streets, have listened to the unending rumble of distant traffic, so I’m well acquainted with hustle and bustle, but I’ve always sought peace and quiet.
I can remember as a child not being able to sleep on occasion and going downstairs and listening to the quiet in between the ticks and the tocks of our cuckoo clock. When I was lucky enough to attend lectures and seminars at St John’s Lodge in Regent’s Park, I loved walking around the pond and fountain in the Inner Circle in the winter when it was deserted. Who could have believed that Baker Street was so near? And so now I revel in the peace and tranquility of North Devon, 50 miles from the nearest motorway and even further from the nearest airport.
Exciting? A meaningless, empty word used by announcers on television and radio when they want to attract a younger audience. Usually it’s an empty promise. A lot of running around and making a noise does not guarantee excitement and sometime it can be just tiresome.
Exciting is seeing the first pussy willow unfurl, cooking a recipe successfully the first time or anything that means something to you. Noise and activity are not obligatory.
Perhaps some people like peace and quiet more as they get older, but I’ve always appreciated it. And I need it to enjoy the excitement of life.