I live in a very pretty seaside town in Devon, in a quiet street on top of a hill away from the hurly burly of town life. This is the view from the hill at the bottom of my street.
The bay is always interesting, at the weekends the yachts are out in force, tacking backwards and forwards, the breeze fluttering in their sails, and sometimes when the weather is rough we have the tankers come in to shelter, or await orders.
A year or so ago, we had the Tall ships here, they were all moored at the harbour, and were amazing to look at, unfortunately, when the race started the mist rolled in and they were swallowed up like some strange horror movie!
Sounds carry up the hill, especially on a quiet evening, if I stand in the back garden, I can hear the fair on the green, the raucous music, and the shouts of the crowds. Also at the other end of the street, and far across the houses to another hill is the football ground, and when theyre at home, you can hear the cheering (and booing!) faintly in the distance.
If I want to go to the shops, I have to descend the hundred steps or so down the hill, which isnt so bad, its the journey back which isnt so great, but is certainly a good work out!
This is the little wood I walk through to the steps, its a lovely tranquil spot, full of squirrels, birds and butterflies dancing over the bramble patch. Theres an assortment of trees, field maples, hawthorn, sycamore, ash and cherry, which look lovely in the Spring. I was once luckily enough to see a fox, on a quiet dark winter morning, he stood and watched me, then turned and trotted off, totally unfazed!