By the Photographer’s Assistant
The Photographer and the Assistant had decided upon a lie in. It was Easter Monday and they had had a lovely time with their friends from North Bovey and the Daughter on Easter Sunday. They had talked and read poetry until they could speak no longer. All were relaxed and returned home ready for a lovely sleep. They dreamt of their friends’ wonderful lemon cake full of lemon curd and that delicious roast chicken, which tasted for all the world, of this wonderful Dartmoor Spring.
It was about 7 a.m., and the Photographer was dreaming of that superb apple pie, oozing in fresh spices and apple, when a different type of “Apple” became agitated, it jumped up and down, trying to ring, it made a strange noise as if it was being strangled. It’s efforts to wake the Photographer were beyond its strength. The Photographer carried on sleeping, mentally putting a large dollop of Greek yogurt on his pie. The Assistant was just going to try pacifying the device when the lounge phone rang. She answered the phone in trepidation. This was a person she did not recognise, going through some security questions, claiming to be their bank. The Assistant was not the best at financial administration, but she had been trained to put the phone down if someone claimed to be from their bank. By now the Photographer was just awake. “Quite right” he thought, to ignore the call. The Apple was still demented. It didn’t care if it broke, it had to speak to its master. The Photographer rang his bank and asked the bank what was up. A breathless bank clerk, clearly reduced to extreme stress, tried to speak. The Photographer only ever spent about thirty pounds, unless they went to a supermarket, or other food outlet. What was described as an unusual sum had been attempted to be withdrawn by an office supply company. It was now nearly 8 a.m. and the Assistant made a cup of tea for them both. The transaction was unusual, but it was correct. Now the product had to be reordered with the cooperation of the bank and the supplier. The Photographer had by now forgotten about apple pies, and was worried about his order, which would now be late.
Easter Sunday was thought by the two to be a strange day for the world to continue, who had forgotten that whilst a rural area continued to celebrate, a great deal of the rest of the world was forced to work. The twosome thought about how sad this was and treated themselves to an extra large breakfast. The Assistant had got herself in a bit of a state, so she needed lots of coffee and “stuff”.
Now it was Tuesday morning and The Photographer and his Assistant felt fully justified in having a proper snooze.
At about 7 a.m. the Apple began to bounce, and this time, The Photographer woke himself up. What now? The Assistant was snuffling, and working her way up the bed. The Photographer was bouncing. He went straight down to his big Apple and was looking at his Artfinder web site. He had sold a picture to someone in New York. This meant a great deal of activity including a trip to The Little Town, where he could copy Certificates of Authenticity to his heart’s content in Fowlers Estate Agency. This meant that the Assistant could order breakfast at Black’s Deli again. Brilliant! The two sat out in the sun drinking tea and eating a large bacon and eggs baguettes. A perfect start to the day.
Spring had begun to happen. When the Assistant got up one morning, and whilst the kettle was boiling, had looked out of the window at an interesting sight. Two robins were parading up and down the borehole shed roof, looking angry. One had been to get his boxing gloves on, so the other one was pulling his on. The parade continued. Murder looked to be a distinct possibility. A great deal of talk went on between them each one claiming to be bigger than the other etc. When, suddenly, one of the birds just flew off. Later, a robin joined the Assistant as she turned soil in the garden. He was grateful for the help with collecting worms and watched the Assistant with his intelligent little head cocked on one side for some time.
One of the neighbours got up one night because the sky was so wonderful with passing clouds and wonderful lights when he had the most amazing visit. He stood by his front door, completely still and a big bold beautiful fox came right up to him and stared him out, before walking slowly away.
A few days later The Photographer encountered a the same beautiful fox in superb condition whilst he was mowing the lawn. The fox sat in front of him, as if deciding whether he was enemy or friend, before walking slowly away. These are not urban foxes. They certainly don’t turn out dustbins or attempt to come in to human habitations. They are simply curious. They have a strange other worldly, almost ghostly feel to them, which transports you beyond the normal human space.
Spring; Duncan has put his cows out in the field and they are frisking about in celebration. Up the lane, as we walk into The Little Town, there are beautiful lambs to be seen. The Architect has been to see to his bees and is keeping a watchful eye over them. They, in turn, are to be seen about on our spring flowers, so busy and alive.
The Little Town is busying itself for the year ahead. Adam has been rushed off his feet in the dress shop, Magnolia, where delicious Spring clothing has appeared. The Little Town ladies are shedding layers, and actually showing a little flesh to the sun. The Boyfriend continues to work on the Chagford Community Swimming Pool, so that it is at its very best for its special opening in May. There is much excitement about its new heating system. The Little Town citizens, who never usually swim are airing their swim wear. A shaven spaniel has been seen. The soft tone of lawn mowers murmur in the distance. Social engagements are such that an early warning for September’s Film Festival has been issued. The odd celeb. is quite often to be spotted here. Chagstock, the music festival has announced its line up. Landrovers and cowboy hats are competing with Ferraris for parking spaces. If you can stand the pace, or even if you can’t, get into the action.
Any similarity between characters in this blog and real people, products or events is entirely co-incidental
Any similarity between “The Little Town” and Chagford is entirely deliberate, Click on this link to find out more. Visit Chagford