In the end I decided to settle in Soho. As a bit of an intellectual, I was tempted by Athens but my creative side won out and I decided I'd rather be surrounded by bohemians than eggheads. True, some of my neighbours are a bit dubious. I mean, I don't enquire too closely into the activities of Pammikins, Misslob or Carmilla-Cream. But it's live and let live. None of us does anything unneighbourly to breach the peace.
As soon as I moved in there was a housewarming. And there are plenty of neighbourhood guides to give a helping hand as soon as you have any problems. Since I took up residence eight months ago I've had over 1500 visitors. I have to admit that not all of them are welcome. I had to eject one young man who kept filling my mailbox with porno-pictures. And not all relationships stand the test of time. Keith from Kansas stopped talking to me when I expressed the opinion that Bill, the bully-boy bombing Iraq, was no more attractive than Bill the sleaze-ball. You can't win 'em all. But I have made some really close friends. My writing pal from Barcelona, for example: same age, same sex, same interests, same hang-ups. We talk at least twice a week and give each other's work a boost.
And another thing. An address in Soho really means something. It's idyllic of course to live in a twelve-house village deep in rural France, but somehow people in the wider world seem to ignore you. Put yourself at the hub of things in Soho and all sorts of opportunities open up. I write a regular column for a web-based magazine, Suite 101, that comes from Canada; I've had a short story posted on a literary agent's site and I've just sold a couple more articles to two American magazines. The beauty of it is that it's only my cyberself that's trapped in the fumes, noise and crowds of the cybercity. The physical me can spend a morning at the local market buying fresh produce from the local paysans, come back and do a few hours work at the screen, have lunch in the sun on the veranda, take a little siesta. Then it's time for a country walk on which I'm bound to spot an interesting bird (a heron and a hen-harrier this week) and I come back to a cosy evening by a blazing log fire.
Soho and SW France: definitely the best of both worlds.
© 1999 by Brenda Townsend Hall; all rights reserved
