It’s a funny thing, this planning to go rural, to spend more time at the cottage. On the one hand, it is marked by the desire for the simple things, back-to-nature and an enhanced appreciation for the beauty of life. On the other, there are so many neat things to buy. I sometimes wonder if I am motivated by a different attitude or just a different ad agency.
I mean; I used to like cars and stereos. Now, it’s wood stoves and hand-tools. Am I really appreciating nature or am I just bored with the old catalogs? My wife mentioned casually the other day, “I was in Home Depot looking at pneumatic nailers and compressors. They seem to have a good package there!” What is going on here?
I guess it doesn’t matter in the long run. You do what you do. But, on the face of it, this desire to ‘go country’ feels right so I thought I’d better dress the part, too. Suits are out. I wear jeans now. Even in the city. And plaid. Boots are next. Something in a heavy ‘scuff’ with cleats and a steel toe, I think. Ideally, each boot will weigh so much that I will look like I am working in the country simply by walking in the damn things. Seems a pair of Wellington’s are the rainy season rubber boot of choice, so they are on the list, too. ‘Wellies’, it seems, are coastal chic.
I recognize the need for headgear, too, and I concede that the popular trend is to those ‘bill-caps’ with a tractor logo on them or, if you’re under 40, a Nike swoosh. But I just can’t do it. I am already ugly enough and, while I don’t mind dressing down, I just can’t bring myself to dressing stupid. There is a culture out there that likes demolition derbies, heavy make-up and gravy on their fries. For fun, they pull up each others underwear and shout ‘Atomic wedgie!’ These people buy baseball caps and some of them even wear them backwards. It’s OK, I guess, but it’s just not me. To be more to the point: baseball caps belong on baseball players – nowhere else.
So. I’ll just pass on the hat. I’ll make a statement with my socks, instead. Country socks say more about you than city socks, anyway. They have to. They are huge. There is a lot of sock there. More sock than you really need, if you ask me. Country socks are made from reject blankets, I think. I normally wear a size nine shoe but, with country socks, I can just squeeze into a size 12 boot. Country socks are also all-season. You can see country socks hanging on a clothesline in August. The owner, of course, is inside suffering from heat prostration but you know he or she will be sportin’ those beauties come dusk.
It is my observation that country socks are more prevalent than plaid shirts these days. Now, I don’t want to rile any local folks but, lately the occurrence of plaid shirts has diminished. You know it’s true. There is no sense in denying it. The plaid shirt has given way to the nylon windbreaker and the t-shirt or sweatshirt with some company logo emblazoned on it. Let’s hope it is a fad and that we soon return to our senses.
I’ll have to ‘drive’ the part, too. That’s why I am selling my car. I need a truck. I need a truck because ‘guys in the country’ drive trucks and I am going to be a guy in the country. Not one of those ‘Nancy’ trucks, either. My truck will have roll-up windows and doors you have to lock with a key not a beeper. And I’ll have two spare tires. Two spares, it seems, is de rigeur. A forty-gallon fuel drum in the back with a hand pump attached is also a nice touch.
I am not so sure if there is any free will involved in any of these decisions. Even my wife is saying, “We better get a truck.” When I innocently asked her for her reasons, she looked at me as if my gender had just experienced a crisis of identity. Naturally, I dropped my voice an octave and confirmed my desire for a truck. Twice. I may be ignorant of the purpose of the truck but I am not stupid. The scary part is that she’s now talking about guns. I guess we’ll be wanting one of those bad boys, soon.
There are coats to buy, too. Lots. And wet gear. Lots of different kinds of wet gear. Seems we need wet gear that breathes, wet gear that is heavy and doesn’t breathe, light wet gear for social events and a variety of coloured safety wet gear for when we are lost at sea. Wet gear that lights up and makes noise is good, too. But matching wet gear is not so good.
Apparently there is nothing worse than a husband and wife wearing matching wet gear. If you are both over the side in the black pitch of night in the middle of Johnstone Straight, one of you gets the floating reflective wet gear and the other gets the one that lights up and makes noise. Do not be rescued as a matching couple. It is the worst of fashion faux pas. They’ll throw you back.
We need long johns and heavy flannel underwear too. I have no idea why. I suspect that it is because anything lighter than heavy flannel underwear questions your sexual preference. I mean: only the very secure and very heterosexual wear flannel boxers and, just in case you are ever caught with your pants down on the ferry, you’ll want to create the right impression.
We are going to get canning jars, pumps, pulleys, rope, candles, old tools, new tools, hand-powered kitchen appliances, alternative energy stuff and assorted country-looking things that we need and probably an additional assortment of the preceding just for the hell of it. We are going to swap our local shopping center mall for mail order catalogs and will be starting with Lehman’s, ‘the supplier to the Amish’. We may not be able to do anything with it all but we’ll be hip.
Imagine that – the ‘Amish’ as ‘hip’. What have we come to?
Our Off the Grid Home 