I grew up in a Cornish village. After I graduated and moved to Poole, commuting to Southampton for my Masters, I felt as though I’d found myself in almost unbearable overdevelopment. Poole seeps seamlessly into Bournemouth, onto Boscombe and Christchurch without any gaps for farmland or green space. There were too many people milling around for anyone to notice little me and smile or say hello – I had suddenly become anonymous.
To begin with I became a little agoraphobic. Inevitably, it affected my writing and I needed to find space in which to think. I joined a yacht club.
The yacht club is my new village. Having been a member there for a while now, people recognise me, smile and say hello. Fellow sailors have time to talk to me and make me feel part of something. I am learning to dinghy sail an RS200 and on Wednesday evenings and Saturday afternoons I head out onto the water of Poole harbour and race with a backdrop of Brownsea Island and Sandbanks Peninsular. The air is fresh and there is space.
After a day of writing, sitting in front of my computer, to be out on the water and away from the urban sprawl is refreshing and invigorating. The yacht club is my niche.
The longer I have lived in Poole, the more homely I find it. Since establishing a base at the yacht club, I have learnt that Poole is my home and have become fond of this corner of England. I know where to go for my shopping and the best places for a coffee on my lunch break. I know that I can get the Sandbanks ferry to Studland and sit in the dunes to read or write. My dad always said that it doesn’t matter where you end up; it’s the people you’re with and the friends you find that make a home. Once again, Dad, you were right.
I think part of my heart will always remain in Cornwall but I am enjoying my new urban lifestyle and the exciting path I have begun to tread.
I’ll be blogging about what I get up to in Dorset, so keep checking back for news and reviews.
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