A special Dartmoor Diary
We have never written a ” special ” before, but feel that this should be done this once on the occasion of the death of a very special Dartmoor lady.
Winnie Kingsland died yesterday after a long illness. She was a major Dartmoor person and the lynchpin of this hamlet. Everybody for miles around knew and loved Winnie.
Winnie died in the house that she was born in surrounded by her large and loving family. The fact that she was in her eighties was not really relevant. She was a caring loving person who enriched the lives of those around her. She and her husband represented old Dartmoor and she had been the oldest inhabitant of this hamlet. They both represented a wonderful past that we can never recapture. Some years ago we were involved in an arts event, where a long piece of Devon dialect had to be read out to a hall full of us incomers. It was difficult to find anyone, who could train the actor concerned to pronounce the words. Winnie and her husband, who was very ill, took time out to come and read these wonderful words, which under John’s tongue took on a magnificent lilt. They constantly gave of their time to us incomers, telling us of time past on the Moor.
Winnie, however, was not a dweller in the past. She was very active. Let no one say that she did not keep up with the times. The day that she took a mobile phone out of her pocket to ring a relative was a revelation. She was often to be found manning a charity raffle at the local cancer care events. When her husband was alive and he was quite old, he could be found strimming on his boundary wall while she was having one of her famous bonfires. When her John died, she took on the care of her fields and was to be found with a can of weed killer, killing dangerous weeds there. At night, she could be found taking a late evening walk, enjoying the fresh air. Sometimes, she would roam up our lane to see what was going on and she really enjoyed a chat and a nice piece of cake. She was the true keeper of many confidences with a ready concern and a smile. Yesterday, my neighbour, who usually took her to the shops, got into her car with a tear in her eye. She would go to the shops alone today.
There is a great deal more you could tell about Winnie, but that is not a job for us. We, who knew her so fleetingly.
Those of us in this little hamlet on the Moor can really say that we will never see the like of Winnie Kingsland again. May she have rest safe in the care of the God she so trusted and loved.