The Power of Gardening

Yes! Gardening is as powerful as can be. Some of our readers will look at this title and think that this is not for them. That might well be true, but we do hope that you will give us a read as this article could also be amusing!

Now that we are getting older, we are experiencing some great changes in the world. Sometimes, we find these fashionable changes amusing, for example a modern barbers shop has opened in Okehampton. I listened to a talk on the modern barbers shops and was very impressed. Alas! I suspect that Peter will not be amongst its customers. His hair is a different matter. We travel miles and miles to get that done! Alas! However, gardening has become something that it is fashionable to deny. That is absolutely fine. Each to their own.

We were brought up with gardening. Yes you can get your violins out. At the end of the war, there wasn’t much choice. Gardening saved you a shed load of grief. You could eat everything that you could grow. Further more, if you had been in any of the services, you were usually super fit, so turning over a long garden or a plot provided by the council was no problem. There wasn’t really much else that you could do at that stage, so 1953 finds both Susan and Peter pottering behind their respective dads for company. Susan and her father were a big team. They had been provided with temporary housing, which came from Canada. It was fabulous. It was bang up to date. It even had a coal hole, so we could keep warm by the fire. My father came from the Welsh valleys, so coal was a must. His brother had worked in the mine throughout the war. I have his death certificate. He had a massive funeral before I even started school! The coal hole was in the garden. It was the only place that I wasn’t allowed. Our speciality, as I toddled about holding an armful of tools, was Brussel sprouts. They were so tall that you couldn’t see me. All you could see was the movement! People used to wonder what it was! We grew everything. My mum had a front garden plot with loads of flowers in it. I wasn’t allowed in there since I had pulled them all up once just to help her out. The three of us had a pet robin, who sat on the window every morning. It watched us eating breakfast, toddling up and down with bread crumbs.

Peter and his dad in the 1950s

Peter was blessed with a cold as cold middle class house in a middle class area. His mother bought it when she sold her nursery for children. She had been a nurse and was never paid enough to keep the enterprise going. She told me that she had dreaded the winter in this house. They were all as freezing cold while I was all toasty by dad’s fire! Peter’s father, however, had what my father would have envied. He had an entire veg plot that was the size of a tennis court. Further, the old lady, who lived next door, had a similar sized plot, which she was never seen in, so Peter could play in there while his father was gardening. Peter’s father’s speciality was runner beans. He grew enough to feed the village and then some! Peter’s mother specialised in salting runner beans down in jars. She offered me some once and I avoided the question. I grow the runner beans. Peter will only eat them in extremis. He likes to have a fried egg on top of his pile of beans. Neither of us are very keen on sprouts!

Our parents went on growing veg. and gardening. It was Percy Thrower who was their inspiration. He was the Monty of the day. He would start his programme by hanging his coat on the greenhouse door. My father thought that was absolutely it. You couldn’t be any better than that! Of interest to me has been that when we had to move to a flat, things started to go wrong. The garden was downstairs and mum and I couldn’t go down. We were both likely to fall. My mother was heavily pregnant. We were trapped. When dad was nursing at the hospital where he worked he couldn’t take us for a walk. Eventually, my mother became very ill and she and the baby had to move to live with her parents. My father took me to live with his elderly mother in Wales. For me, I was spoilt rotten and became bilingual, loved it. Over the years, I travelled very happily between two countries. My Grandmother had a gardener. The garden was huge and as I got taller, I was able to handle the right tools. It was a huge release from academic work. My father and I would meet up. Before joining the army, he had been a painter, and he spent happy hours painting his mother’s house.

Yes, it was a good party

This tale has a sting in the tale. Of course, when Peter and I got married, we loved all the gardens, which we owned. Our parents had given a great gift in life. All that fresh air and all that healthy food. In our senior years, we are still able to enjoy it. What of our parents? We know now that all four had advanced PTSD. My mother never was herself again. She had enough drugs pumped into her for her to become an addict. My brother took as much care of her as he could. She died of a massive stroke. Cigarettes took my father when I was 32 and my brother was six years younger. Peter’s father had a large brain tumour, which took many years to kill him. The experience nearly broke his mother. Peter was 20 when his father died. Was it something he picked up in the war? We don’t know. I met Peter when he was recovering from his famous 21st birthday party, which his college lost control of. It ended with a tractor being driven into a fountain. He became an engineer with a Cranfield qualification. His mother never knew about his party. She was very upright We took his mother to live with us. I wouldn’t have her until she gave up smoking! She died aged 96. I loved her dearly, but her way of keeping sane was to run a routine, which nearly drove the whole household mad. She died in hospital with Peter, Josie and I present. We might as well not have been there. She went back to Dunkirk. She had been a nursing sister there. She died mouthing instructions about a wounded man.

The author with an abundant onion crop way back in 1979

The upshot of all this is quite simple. We and our children love gardening. Josie is the best gardener of us all. She grows veg. And fantastic flowers in the smallest plot that we have ever known. The lesson needs to be learnt. If anyone involved in the current war thinks that they will get away from it, they won’t. It will be with them when they least expect it. Gardening and fresh air and exercise will help, but what people have gone through will always be with them. A lesson that even modern man never learns until it’s too late. Our hearts go out to those involved. Meanwhile, I will continue to light a candle for my father in the SAS section of Hereford cathedral. He was a medical commando, who was amongst the first troops who went into Belsen. He made my brother and I watch every documentary on it, including the gas chambers. Peter’s mother liked to talk about Dunkirk. It helped her. Who will help the current victims of war?

You may not have a plot of your own to garden, but even a visit to a great garden will help you. Here are some that have inspired us and many others.

Castle Drogo NT garden designed by Lutyens and Jekyll to help the Drewe family who lost their only son in WW1

Sir Roy Strong’s Laskett Garden, a gardener cheerfully trims topiary

Recommended if you feel a bit fed with gardening but need to chill, Mortimer and Whitehouse; GONE FISHING BBC iPLAYER. Jim Fortey, Peter and I love it. It was recommended to us by Josie and Wes, who also use it to help them find holiday spots.

Words by Sue

Pictures by, or edited by Peter.

Visit our Facebook Page at Dartmoor Diary Facebook Page and contact The Photographer directly on Peter Bennett Photos email The Photographer’s snapshots for this blog can be seen on     Dartmoor Diary Flickr Album or all his snapshots on  Flickr (follow link)           The serious stuff is currently only available directly from The Photographer (aka Peter).

How Green is our Valley?

Peter arrived home. He opened the garage door. He was puzzled. All across the floor there were seed packets of all sorts, but mostly vegetables. They were all in neat rows with various villagers’ names on. He left the car on the drive. He made his way through the washing and various seed trays. There was a neat pile of unopened letters on the hall table and a lot of church correspondence spread itself elsewhere. His wife was deep in the latest church secretarial duties. She was clearly overrun. He had been away for three weeks. His mind was made up. He had thought about it on the Varig flight home. He was going to retire early. He felt, quite rightly, that enough people had lost their lives on planes and his luck might be running out. Quite enough public works had been performed by the family and it was time for a break. He didn’t know which jobs had been more arduous. He had been the local RHS gardening society chair and his wife was constantly filling in. It was time that the new vicar found another two people to see to the church fabric and procedures and as for the controversy over the millennium tapestry, that needn’t include him either. Since Captain George had died there was no one to cover for either of them. His wife looked strained to death. Resignations were to be written and he was due early retirement after facing a considerable amount of danger. Further, he had also lost Trish, his right hand assistant at work, so that was that.

Aaah the joys of foreign travel and Field Research. Custom designed benches, air conditioned laboratory, computerised data acquisition, and “hotel” accomodation above a truckers garage!

Peter’s wife, knowing that this moment was on hand, had accumulated a large pile of houses situated in places that they would like to retire to. Peter had actually gone out and purchased a new car. He was that serious. Her beloved XR3i had gone to the dump. George Tooth, the old boy who shot vermin on Susan’s allotment, had declared that he would stop now that Peter was home. His upper window, which he used for a good shot was firmly shot. Peter had bought her a posh new frock for the last horticultural show. She refused to wear a hat to give the prizes out. Her nerves were like chewed string! Giving out prizes anywhere was not on her agenda. Peter had booked them in on a retirement course. The company liked to help people retire properly. It was all a bit strange. Because this was a village near the polo grounds, the house was sold for a ridiculous sum.

Who could resist buying a garden with 2 magnificent Field Maples like this. But you’ve got to like mowing!

After a real effort to take Susan home to Wales, Peter could find nowhere with a large garden. They were both desperate to get their big garden back. They had moved out of a house with a large garden, because nobody except them had lived there any more, so the house had been big and empty. They desperately wanted their garden back. Peter remembered that many years before they had visited and walked Meldon in Chagford, so they set off without much hope. They thought that it looked expensive. They parked nearly Phil Fowler’s agency and he took them to see a couple of houses, which they could actually afford. The second house had a massive garden. They both found the house charming with some minor drawbacks, but the garden was exactly right. They bought the house and moved in. This would be their fifth move. Furniture was abandoned all over the house. Peter and Susan were experienced movers. Their old greenhouse had been brought in the removal van and they set about erecting it. There was an old log store and an abandoned stable block. How lucky could you get! The garden had been part of the original building and was many years old. It’s problem was that a horse had grazed it, but only the middle. The rest of the garden was wild. While Peter parked his motor bike, cement mixer and gardening tools in the stable, Susan had an explore. In the log store, there were piles of gardening canes. They were tall and in good condition. There was even string and rope. Near the garden’s entrance, under the apple tree, there were rows of old fashioned raspberry canes, which were cleared of weed and produced wonderful fruit. They found more shrubs and plants. Peter wanted to make a parkland garden and he based it on two giant field maples in the middle of the garden. There was going to be a lot of work and some money to spend, so he accepted two of the consultancy jobs which he had been offered. To this day, he still works for John, who lives in Cambridgeshire. Peter helps with queries and, for a while, Susan was able to help with her registration experience and Josie with some of her expertise. We have all been friends now for many years and it has been a wonderful association, so we found friends as well as the garden. Another John , who also worked for ICI, and is Josie’s godfather, also helps in John’s business. To this blog, he is the friend who loves Jacob’s cream crackers and will travel a long way for a decent cup of coffee. That is definitely so when we visit him in Wales. He has a wonderful home, where red kites fly and green hills dominate.

When the old mower’s steering wheel came off in Peter’s hands, a new mower was purchased, which Susan used all summer, while Peter watched her as he thought of ideas and recommendations for his clients on sheets of paper in the verandah of the stable block.

Vegetable Garden Mk 1

The girls arrived home from Uni and vaguely approved their parent’s new home. The house was so full of dust that Josie had to be left outside while her room was Hoovered thoroughly by her father, who had banned both child and mother from an environment that would have undoubtedly caused asthma to raise its ugly head. Not the best way to please new doctors.

The Mini about to leap off the “ski jump”, sorry concrete access way

As the weeks went on, Susan became a new woman. Dr.Wollaston had soon got to grips with her problems. She had had two hospital appointments, which had sorted her out. She regretted not being allowed caffeinated tea and coffee. Peter had bought a pile of decaf. And she had been supervised by him for a whole month until she had given in. Her asthma medication was well sorted. He definitely thought they had made the right move. His wife was actually well! As it happened, he had just got the concrete mixer out and was about to lay two concrete strips across the mud that stopped them parking the car in a sensible place. At the moment, one car had to be parked outside under the kitchen window. Josie’s current boyfriend had already made a dent in the wall. Susan could now grow in strength by trundling concrete supplies up and down from a building pile. She now looked at her old posh frock and wondered if it would ever be used in her new life. It wasn’t!

Vegetable Garden Mk 2. One raised bed built…….3 more to go…….

So, now, the years have rolled on and Peter’s latest job has been to plant 230 native saplings in the garden. A small contribution to reforestation. As a concession to Peter and Susan’s increasing age Peter has built four raised vegetable beds. The garden has more of everything including seats and Josie occasionally wonders about it all, but you can’t usually stop her headstrong parents doing anything. On the quiet, she has a list of gardeners, who might be able to cope, but don’t hold your breath. The garden will have many tales to tell yet! There is still a much improved house here, but people only want to come and sit in the garden and have a drink at one of Peter’s homemade rustic tables. Who knows? If you sit very quietly, you may meet the resident fox, but it’s more likely to be that dreadful badger that no one is ever comfortable with, not since the Murder on New Street, (follow the link) now a while ago, but that was another story.

230 wonderful trees, courtesy of The Woodland Trust. It’s not too late to plant some yourself

Words by Sue

Pictures by Peter

Visit our Facebook Page at Dartmoor Diary Facebook Page and The Photographer is abandoning Artfinder,  ( Peter Bennett on Artfinder ) so contact him directly on Peter Bennett Photos email

The Photographer’s snapshots for this blog can be seen on     Dartmoor Diary Flickr Album or all his snapshots on  Flickr (follow link)           The serious stuff is currently only available directly from The Photographer except for a few left on his  Saatchi Art shop

Any similarity between characters in this blog and real people, products or events is entirely co-incidenta

Any similarity between “The Little Town” and Chagford is entirely deliberate, Click on this link to find out more. Visit Chagford     

As I walked out one November morning

Inspired by the wonderful Laurie Lee

By the Photographers Assistant

And now for something a bit different. Inspired by Slow Radio, and slow TV like The Yorkshire Bus, here is Slow Blogging.

Enjoy a walk through the Dartmoor lanes with us during a quiet autumn day in Covid-19 Lockdown 2

For those of you who wish to follow this walk on an OS map: follow this link https://www.ordnancesurvey.co.uk/osmaps/route/6775456/gidleigh-and-wonson

Exercise for Three

Having whooshed the dirt away and found no immediate work in the garden we decided on an autumn treat. We shut the house up, put an apple in our pockets and set off for Gidleigh. We walked the lane from our house. This was the lane that Ursula always insisted on being an original country lane with its pretty weeds and old fashioned ways. At the corner of the lane there is a lovely wooden seat on which people occasionally sit. The seat is maintained by Mike, who has lovingly preserved and looked after it all these years. Sometimes, Peter and I have been so excited about a visitor that we sit on the seat so that the visitor doesn’t miss the turning. Around the corner and past the house that Liz Goodchild used to live in. She rented a cottage out and we used to know some of the people who lived in this delightful cottage. A couple from this cottage used to walk past our house and we got to know them. The couple imported beautiful, fluffy wedding dresses and they kept them in the barn. They would take their two children for a walk and come in to see us. We used to give them a hot drink and some biscuits. Marcus, our rescue spaniel made a disgraceful fuss of the children. At first timid of this huge animal, the children were soon in league with him. They were a fun team. There would be no biscuits left!. Eventually. The barn was so cold that winter could not be endured, so we received the sad news that they would be emigrating to the U.S.A. to join some fellow Christians, who were building a community. Our house went very quiet now there were no more children. Marcus sulked for months and held us entirely responsible for the loss of his friends. We were just sad. The biscuit tin stayed full.

Opposite Liz’s old house we met Lionel and Sally just wandering out into their garden. We were so pleased to see them. The four of us used to meet up now and then, but know we were all under a heavy Covid cosh. We loved walking past their house. It was so beautifully built by Mike, who was their neighbour too. It fits so exactly into its surroundings.They were going to take themselves off to Scorell up the road. It was just such a lovely day.

We continue on our way and meet George Lyon Smith’s daughter exercising the most beautiful grey horse. What a lovely country sight.

Next we start to pass Duncan’s beautiful fields with views that would take anyone’s breath away. Here is the naked Moor with its high green hills, beautiful trees and sky. It can be shrouded in mist, covered in rain and snow. Its mood is unpredictable and you will need to walk that way with care and if you want to walk it properly, particularly in winter, you will need equipment. We came here from the gentle West Sussex Downs. This was a different case from those rolling hills. When we came here we were lucky enough to join one of Tom’s tours, where we learnt all about survival as well as beauty on the Moor. We remember well one day, when we were all feeling a bit cocky about our ability. Tom stood in what looked like a safe area. He took his walking pole, held it above the ground, and let it go. It was swallowed whole by the ground. Love the Moor was the message, but never stop respecting it!

Onwards, down to the river and a spot near the Woodland Trust Blackaton Copse. We had happy memories of Josie and Wes’ wedding, where Josie resplendent in her wedding dress, and now being wed, took the muddy path right down to the river. The Wedding Photographer could not believe that the whole wedding party were happy to almost bathe in mud while they had their pictures taken. The wedding frock was later restored by being washed in a product produced, as if from a conjurer’s hat, by Colin at Bowdens. It cost less than £4 to clean it! From the river, we go on towards Gidleigh Village Hall, which must have one of the most beautiful views in the country. You could stand here for a very long time, identify major landmarks or be entirely swept away by this view. Try it. It really will knock your socks off.

 

 

Around the corner, past the now empty little trinket and supply box, shut due to Covid. A sad sight indeed. Here, by his rather stylish bungalow, we meet with Dick, who is on business bent. Not for him, the idleness of a walk. Dick is bent on pleasing his wife, Janie. Here is Janie’s art studio, which is in need of a new path. On the Moor this is no simple task. There is sorting granite pieces and all sorts to be done. Dick sighs and lights a cigarette. Leaning on an implement of destruction, he is only too willing to have a chat. He sweeps a hand across his brow and tells us that all is well with Gidleigh.

Dick lives next door to the church and we shall visit this old friend. Inside the church, we remember Josie’s wedding and how, when she had been home from University, Anthony Geering, our previous vicar, had shown her something that you would never spot without being told. The beautiful medieval rood screen had had a very clever repair. Perfectly replacing a broken piece, there was an old fashioned wooden cotton reel, so beautiful mimicking the original colours and shape, you really had to know it was there. If you visit, see if you can see it. Outside the church and around the corner, there is an empty part of the graveyard, which was once the site of great bravery. Mr. Hardy, who lives in the castle beside the church had hatched an idea. He went to his tool shed and got out various tools of destruction. He carried them all towards a tree that he felt was past its sell by date, and examined it. This was not going to be a trivial exercise. He felt that the tree should be removed root and all to prepare for possible burials. This was a heavy task for a venerable more elderly member of the congregation. Meanwhile, recovering from a recent, serious operation, Peter was taking the air on a longish walk. He had walked to Gidleigh church, in need of a rest and was sitting on a bench when he heard the noises of an agonised destruction taking place around the corner. Somewhat alarmed, he investigated, and found Mr.Hardy bravely chopping at the tree. Peter was hard pressed, but, having had a large number of trees down throughout his life decided something had to be done. He stepped for ward and seized the axe. He found it comfortable to hold so he took a swing at the tree and the tree broke. One more swing brought the tree down. Mr. Hardy continued to do all that he could. By lunch time the tree was down. The two men heartily shook hands and sat down. Peter knew that he was now well and Mr. Hardy was enormously pleased.

Today, Mr. Hardy’s garden is being tidied and there is a neat little bonfire at the side of the road as we round the corner.

 

The two continued walking along enjoying the silence of the countryside when several cars swept along the road. Clearly, some wood had fallen nearby and local people had been clearing it all up. You can’t waste this sort of find out here, where independent living is a must.

We pass the gate which leads to the walk to the old hermitage. This is a hazardous diversion, particularly, in wet weather when the river is not to be trusted. You could have quite a nasty accident if you go this way. At the very least, You could get tremendously wet!

The horses on the right hand side of the road are just about as pretty and adorable as they come. They are proud and haughty, but they will let you say a nice hello if you play your cards right. What a beautiful sight!

Now, we see beautiful chocolate box pretty houses. Most of these houses are lovingly maintained and treasured, but it is only on a walk like this you will really see them. You have to know that they are there. We pass a moorland bridge, so unusually formed, but attractive to see, covered in ivy, it is a scene from a film.

 

 

So we go on until we reach the street that leads to the Wonson’s pub, sadly shut up by Covid. Here, beside us, is the phone box with the defibrillator in, a reminder of our human state.

 

Further on we pass Providence Chapel, where we and many others sadly attended John and Winnie Kingsland’s funerals.

On the opposite side of the road, there is a most tempting jar of marmalade for sale, but we have plenty at home. Now, we start for home, down the hills, and past more houses and sheep. Near home we pass Mr. Davies turnips, ready to feed his animals. How neatly, they are planted. At the bottom of the hill, we are home, so it’s past he chapel and back to Mike’s bench. At home there is tea and cake. Perfect. Absolute perfection. Put your feet up, light the fire and ask those who want to abolish your log burner, just how exactly, those who Iive off the grid are going to keep themselves from freezing!

 

 

 

Words by Sue

Pictures by Peter

A very Happy Christmas and a splendid New Year to all our readers, in case we don’t get back to you before then

Visit our Facebook Page at Dartmoor Diary Facebook Page and The Photographer is abandoning Artfinder,  ( Peter Bennett on Artfinder ) so contact him directly on Peter Bennett Photos email

The Photographer’s snapshots for this blog can be seen on     Dartmoor Diary Flickr Album or all his snapshots on  Flickr (follow link)           The serious stuff is currently only available directly from The Photographer except for a few left on his  Saatchi Art shop

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     

Tailpiece

 

Once upon a time in the West

By the Photographers Assistant

Murchington Jubilee photo part 2 (Hayes and Mosses)

The removal van had made a long journey from Sussex. The couple had spent the night sleeping on camping beds in their new home. The cat had spent the night in its basket looking very annoyed. This was yet another new patch for it to adjust to. Jim demanded more breakfast and feeling quite ancient today, settled himself down for an uncomfortable time. By the time the removal van left, he had resigned himself to his fate and he had no desire to leave the new home. He was bored and fast asleep and he missed the young cats, both of whom had been killed in a new traffic system outside their old village home. The grown children were at some other institution and he missed their cuddles. Dark days indeed, but not for the adults, who were delighting in moving furniture about and, above all else, looking forward to the restoration of a large garden.

This move had come about as Peter had managed to avoid moving to Switzerland with some of his colleagues. After decades as one of the country’s leading engineers, he had spent an evening doing his sums and decided to retire. He had actually spent some money and bought a new car in which to go and find somewhere he could live in a peaceful environment. Both he and his wife knew exactly where they would like to go. They had contacted Phil Fowler, driven down and Phil had put them in his Land Rover and shown them two beautiful houses. The two took the details to the Ring of Bells pub, where they bought a round of drinks and had a chat with some locals. The locals were adamant that this little hamlet was the place. You could not wish for anywhere better! This was the confirmation of a dream. In 1972, two young couples had a walking holiday together in this lovely countryside. One of the couples had spent until 2001, trying to get here. At last, a dream was fulfilled. They would never get on an aeroplane again. Enough was enough!

Sid Setter. Gardener, carer, repairman, local historian, friend

Returning to the new home, Jim, somewhat reluctantly, started to join in with the family. Josie returned for a holiday and he helped her settle into the big bedroom, overlooking a beautiful garden and a field. Peter, never one to turn down an offer, undertook a short engineering consultancy job. The travel only involving the U.K. Susan didn’t know where to start. Should she start in the house, or the garden? The garden had always come first. What a mess! It had been a beautiful garden, but it had been grazed by a horse. Here, in the shed there was evidence of previous gardening from some years ago and most of it was useful. There were old bean sticks, substantial balls of string and the odd implement. It was a treasure trove. The garden revealed old crops. There was a tree that would be full of cooking apples in the autumn. Treasure upon treasure. There were old fashioned raspberries that would survive a Dartmoor winter. Yes, a job could be done here. Meanwhile, unused to seeing Sue in action, Peter noticed that over a number of weeks that she had not been thriving. She seemed to be very tired and weak. His mother had died and she missed her. This was something he had not spotted. Sue struggled without his mother’s help. She had always had a couple of underlying illnesses, but they seemed to be taking over. This was a chance to find the local surgery. What a lovely change that was. Everyone was so welcoming and it was nothing like so crowded as their old one. Excellent! By some great good fortune, all the doctors seemed really useful and Sue was put on Dr. Sarah Wollaston’s list. Before long she was being sorted with two consultants and the right medicine. Meanwhile, Sue had decided on some exercise, which had been missing with the Foot and Mouth outbreak. Both Ursula and Michael, her new neighbours encouraged her to visit Richard Padley’s garden, a part of the original farming estate on which they all lived. Walking up the lane to the garden was simply beautiful. It could be muddy, but who cared when you could see that view down to the Teign and she thought the shrubs were better than a tour around Wisley. There was a really wild bit with all sorts of trees. It was quite hard climbing the hill up to the garden if she approached from the river. This was how she met Sid, the only gardener in this huge garden. Sid began to take an interest in this weak looking creature, and began not to be able to bare seeing her struggle, especially with breathing after the hill. He began to have little chats with her. She seemed deeply interested in the garden and he spoke to Richard, the retired FAO statistician, who could no longer manage to walk into the garden. It was agreed that she should be allowed to walk through the house garden and above all into the old walled fruit and vegetable garden. This was a real prize. Anyone who has seen a real Victorian walled garden, would simply stand and wonder. This became a real go to place for a treat. Sid was a wonder. From time to time he even managed to grow some broad beans for Richard. When we had Marcus, our rescue dog, we had some real adventures. Marcus was very protective of the garden and was at his peak, when a badger was on the veg patch. Fortunately, he was accompanied by Peter, who managed to rescue him from the fight. It would be impossible to praise Sid enough. He worked so hard and knew which parts of the garden would look so wonderful wild. As Richard got older, he worked miracles to keep him in his home. Richard was amazing. We will always remember the day that Richard’s cat appeared in our garden. It was dying and Peter was holding it. Richard was in tears and said that it had caught Aids. It was just very sad. Now, Richard had lost his beautiful wife and his cat.

We loved our new home and fellow hamlet dwellers. Sue would visit Ursula while she was having breakfast. Ursula, who had been a West End Actress, loved a visit and they would discuss Ursula’s garden. It was much admired and what really tickled Sue was that most of the substantial shrubs in the garden had been bought from the Daily Telegraph and not a posh nursery. Ursula had a lovely strawberry patch, which would amuse her neighbours because it was so well looked after and it was protected from the birds with many double cream pots. She was a good example of nutrition for any elderly person, having a large glass of wine and a really good piece of cheese for supper!

From 1959 Morris Traveller to 1978 VW Passat Estate……some people mark the height of their children in the porch. John Kingsland marked his cars, a rural petrolhead!

Ursula had a trip out every Wednesday with some other elderly neighbours. She would dress up and wait by the gate. John and Winnie Kingsland and Charles would appear in John’s latest car (the 1978 VW Passat) and off they would all go to the Little Town. When they got to there, Winnie and Ursula would take off on some mission or other, but the two men would stand outside Bowdens, ready to communicate with any other old mate, who happened to be passing. They would all return home for another week. Ursula always had a more higher flown attitude. After all, when we had arrived, she had a big green car (Audi 90) and was the best driver in the whole hamlet. Seeing her in reverse gear was a real lesson to us all!

There used to be lots of partying in the hamlet. Virginia and David always held an election party at which nobody ever heard the results for the noise of gossip and general uproar. David and Jenny held some wonderful parties, at which loads of local news was downloaded. Their children were almost equal to our children, except that our Lucy was so elderly that she had moved away by now. For a while, their Richard and our Josie, students both, had to get up at some unearthly hour and drive together to help the Department of the Environment. It was exhausting for them both. In the end, Josie was head hunted by a “dragon” type of employer and released from the early hours. We are all so proud for Jenny and David as Richard went on to become a doctor. Both students did well. Thank goodness! Anyway, parties in the hamlet used to be great fun. Peter had his 60th here and you couldn’t get in the door for sweat, food and laughter. We could be said to have settled in!

Winnie Kingsland. Born and lived in Murchington her whole life. Our heroine

Winnie and John are so missed. They were simply lovely people. They knew everything about the hamlet and were always there for anyone. When John was ill, we remember him walking the back field with long strides and great strength trailing a plume of St Bruno smoke behind him. When Sue was involved in an arts event, he helped one of her actors by teaching him to speak in real Devon language. It was a treat for us all to hear him.

We simply respected Charlie, who had a farm across the road. He turned out in a three piece suit in his 90s to supervise his relatives digging and planting his garden. He had a presence that demanded great respect. We were sad when he died.

Olive and Mike have lived here for a very long time. Mike came and helped Peter with some skilled pointing on the house. He is a man who works hard. He built the beautiful house in which Lionel and Sally now live. It is just a good solid, yet, lovely building and exhibits Mike’s skill exemplarily.

It is all change in the hamlet now. Barbara, a dear neighbour is about to move out. She and her husband David were kind to us when we moved in. Sadly, David died a while ago now and Barbara is moving on. Nick, who has been here a little while and was a great friend to Wes and Josie, is moving on. Goodness knows who else will sell for it appears, quite frankly, to be a good time for it. All we can hope is that some good country loving people will move in and be able to live the wonderful life that we have all led. Let’s be optimistic!

Murchington Jubilee photo Part 1

 

Words by Sue

Pictures by Peter

Visit our Facebook Page at Dartmoor Diary Facebook Page and The Photographer is abandoning Artfinder,  ( Peter Bennett on Artfinder ) so contact him directly on Peter Bennett Photos email

The Photographer’s snapshots for this blog can be seen on     Dartmoor Diary Flickr Album or all his snapshots on  Flickr (follow link)           The serious stuff is currently only available directly from The Photographer except for a few left on his  Saatchi Art shop

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     

We’re all going on an Autumn Holiday

No more worries for a week or two

(Sorry Cliff)

By the Photographers Assistant

The friendly and helpful farmer looking after Llancillo Church

This month we are off on a break and you are invited to go with us. Heaven knows, there is enough gloom, so let’s have a cheer up.

We knew that it was autumn when Wes set off to help close the little town’s swimming pool. There was a strange feeling around the house, as if this was some sort of closure, and so it proved to be. Soon, he would start closing his customers pools and he would begin to have a little more time to think of other projects. While the Photographer and his Assistant surveyed the garden and decided to plant some late spinach under a cloche, Josie and Wes decided on what they could do to help out indoors. Wes was happy that his bridge across the stream was now well settled in. He and Josie began to think of a long list of jobs which would update the house. The family had been in the house for a long time now and some of the initial work on it was showing its age. Wes, at first, looked to a couple of his greatest strengths. While the elderly were pottering in the garden, he examined a now aged shower room. This must be first. Tiling and plumbing were among his great strengths. The Photographer and the Assistant were in Josie’s car before they knew where they were. There was much grumbling at leaving the garden for the day. Tiles and a new sink were selected before they could refuse and so, the next project was selected. There was never a dull moment in this house!

It was Sunday and the Photographer and Assistant were packing. A holiday was in the offing. Josie was getting a lovely lamb dinner with all the trimmings. We won’t describe the roast potatoes. It would just be cruel, especially if you are hungry!

Monday morning and Josie was up and supervising the departure. After much humming and carry on, she succeeded in packing them off. She had a whole cleaning plan in her head and there were some friends to socially distance with. God only knew if her furlough would ever end. She so missed her job and colleagues . Keeping busy was for the best.

The two pottered off up the M5 and M4. They were going to the remote barn to stay at Sharon’s, where there would be perfect peace and time to relax after the rigours of summer and the lockdown etc.Sharon’s welcome was always warm and a bottle of wine and some welsh cakes arrived. Bags and food were unpacked. The Assistant had brought lots of cooking material with her. There were curry powders and poppadoms, garden vegetables, and loads of eggs. There was bacon for breakfasts and lots of bits and pieces. There were even some cooking apples from the garden.

The news on the Monday evening was not good. Here they were, on the Welsh border and it sounded as if some lock downs were on their way. Until now, they had assumed Wales was safe. The next morning, the two set off for Crickhowell with a long shopping list. Our own Bowdens has its strengths ie ordering paint etc., but Webbs has huge amounts of stuff that the farmers come to buy. The Assistant was after a certain type of saucepan set and a huge bail of garden twine. Photographer lusted over all the Stihl equipment any man could possibly want, but he knew that his loyalty was really with E Bowdens of Bovey Tracey. He reluctantly left with a few useful small items. Meanwhile, the Assistant was beetling over to the butchers, where an obscene amount of welsh cheese was purchased together with some strings of onions. The camping shop was as practical as ever. They even managed a cup of coffee at their favourite cafe. Poor Crickhowell.
What a wonderful example it was for Covid distancing. Everywhere was strictly distanced. Huge flower troughs had been planted in the road, so that people were helped into distancing on the pavements, and it was all so pretty. Every single person wore a mask inside and outside the shops. It seemed so unfair that it was so close to the area that had been locked down.

On the Wednesday, the Photographer managed to get The Assistant a slap up meal at the Felin Fach Griffin restaurant. This was the first time that he used the NHS tracing app on his phone. The two tucked into a smooth carrot soup, a mixed fish grill and a chocolate fondant to die for. The fondant’s taste was beyond description. You can imagine the quality chocolate mixed in with wonderful cream. Stunning!

The Black Hill from Offas Dyke

After this, the Welsh government began thinking about more lockdowns in Cardiff etc. When Liverpool was shutdown, 4 Welsh counties were locked down too. The Welsh Minister was asking people not to move about Wales any more than they had to. We decided to spend the rest of the holiday on our feet and what a glorious time we had! The weather was good and we walked for many miles. We took particular pleasure in climbing the Black Hill, otherwise known as The Cat’s back. What a climb! What a view! Bruce Chatwin’s book, “On the Black Hill”, about it came to mind and there were some broken down farmhouses, but the scenery was glorious. The Assistant’s grand mother had always told her of the glory of the Black mountains. You have to see them to know how true that was.

The Assistant reaches the trig point at the summit of the Black Hill

Our walking continued, and we always managed a lunch on a seat in a churchyard. The most difficult walk was to the church at Llancillo, a church under the protection of the Friends of Friendless Churches. It certainly was difficult to get to, situated in a remote corner of a farmer’s field. It was a wonderful example of church history with a Tudor Door way and a medieval preaching cross.

Llancillo Church. Supported by the Friends of Friendless Churches. Medieval Prayer Cross and Tudor door evident

It was visited often, and, in the same week, several people had been, including a visitor from China. There was a strict Covid notice, even this far away from the roads. Someone had been looking after the church. There were bits of cleaning equipment behind a screen and a beautiful white cloth adorned the altar. What a great save! So appreciated.

Freindless, possibly, but still loved enough for some kind person to clean and tidy

Our walk to Newton was taken from the barn.We set off with two pork pies and some fruit. The Photographer had his camera and had left the Assistant on the road, while he tried to capture a picture of a bull.

An actual Hereford Bull. Magnificent

In the distance, the Assistant could see a cyclist approaching. He was quite a way off and she was thinking about the photographer’s lenses when the bike stopped in front of her. A conversation ensued. He had pink trousers and an exceptionally bright jumper. It soon became apparent that he was about her age and that she might be being chatted up! The Photographer appeared when she had run out of conversation. The pink trousers decided that he would accompany them to the next junction, where he kept them talking for what seemed an age, until he decided that he needed a cigarette and would continue his journey. The two were very amused and beetled off to the glory of Newton, an agricultural settlement down a distant lane. Here, they found an undistinguished, but much loved church called John The Baptist, where there was a comfortable seat for lunch. It was not so glorious as some other churches, but it had hand gel at the churchyard gate and it was obviously a pillar of its community and much loved. Having lunched and connected many rural families in the churchyard, the two set off for a little longer, passing the farm machinery and homes, before turning around and walking home for supper.

St Margarets in Newton on a beautiful sunny day

Becoming ambitious, at the next opportunity, the two decided to walk to St Margaret’s church, which was further on. Here, was another glorious day. The two passed many houses and farms neatly arranged along the road. They were just becoming tired when they passed an argument in the road between a farmer and a householder, who wasn’t sure that the field next door to her house really needed to be so covered in lime dust. The two had St. Margaret’s in their sight. When they entered this glorious churchyard, they became very impressed with its size and its small wooden tower. It was sad, however, that despite its grand appearance, the church was firmly closed. We suspected that it was probably having difficulty with Covid, and security We did, however, find a lovely seat to have our lunch on. It became obvious that this was a seat that commemorated the memory of a lady called Anne and that opposite was a well maintained plot for her large family. All the women who had married into the family had their previous unmarried as well as their married names carved into their headstone. Another plot had also been maintained with the same practice. This seems to be common practice in the area.

We had walked ten miles on this day and had so enjoyed the glory of the fabulously well kept farm hedges and the beautiful sheep. It reminded us of the wonderful displays at the annual Royal Show, now defunct.

So the holiday ends and we shall be pleased to return to the ministrations of Wes and Josie. As many of you have asked, Josie has now been taken off furlough and is busy helping her customers on Zoom and the telephone and enjoying the company of her distanced colleagues. From now on, we’ll just have to look after ourselves. Oh dear! We’ll soon need another holiday!

 

Words by Sue

Pictures by Peter

Visit our Facebook Page at Dartmoor Diary Facebook Page and The Photographer is abandoning Artfinder,  ( Peter Bennett on Artfinder ) so contact him directly on Peter Bennett Photos email

The Photographer’s snapshots for this blog can be seen on     Dartmoor Diary Flickr Album or all his snapshots on  Flickr (follow link)           The serious stuff is currently only available directly from The Photographer except for a few left on his  Saatchi Art shop

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     

A peaceful Autumn emerges from the storms

By The Photographer’s Assistant

 

Josie and The Assistant were making the most of the autumn. They didn’t feel too brilliant this evening and the men had a project on. Josie had a cold and the Assistant had had treatment for her troublesome leg. They didn’t feel like making a huge supper and were indulging themselves.
Josie had a large jumper and her comforting sheepskin slippers on. The Assistant had giant furry socks and warm tartan pyjamas. The television was showing the ultimate Country file programme. It was a Mary Berry special. The section on hand made cheese was of particular interest. The cheese looked wonderfully creamy, but not too creamy. It was covered in hay, which was wonderfully picturesque. Josie, still on furlough, was looking for a cheese making course, which she could attend. It was all very inspirational!

So Cosy

Sitting by the fire and watching relaxing television programmes is a real treat at the end of a well spent summer, mainly spent gardening until we were satisfied and exhausted. Josie had been working on her art, but, above all, she had been cooking produce from the garden for many a happy and exhausting hour. Now, with distancing sorted out at the gym, she could go out to Topsham and exercise. She could meet with her old bridesmaids in their new homes and enjoy a chat. She and Wes could walk greater distances and they had found a pub with good distancing, that they could walk to. Things were looking up.

The Photographer and The Assistant had been able to attend an appointment at the surgery and go to see the dentist. They had not found PPE frightening to look at. All they could see was their old doctor, trying to help them and a dentist, who was delighted to see them again. They did not feel in the least bit intimidated. The Assistant felt safe enough to arrange a hygienist appointment, which would be using different procedures from usual to protect from Covid.

Saturday was a delight with the annual trip to have our flu jabs. We all had different timed appointments and the route was made clear for entering and exiting the surgery. Lately, living right out in the countryside, we had felt a bit isolated, but now, we remembered and saw all the people we used to love seeing and talking to. There was Jo from church, and some near neighbours, and lots of familiar faces. It was so cheering. After, we had a couple of cups of coffee in the Three Crowns, out in glorious sunshine. We were able to do some shopping before the town became too busy. Josie was driving and the Photographer got in the car carrying two delicious bottles of wine. The Assistant had two huge pieces of salmon from Andy’s old place. A day of treats!

Innovation on Dartmoor hill farm……now that’s something to note! Spring Barley being grown for silage

On one of our walks up the hill, past Mr. Davis’ fields, we saw the most wonderful crop of barley. We were invited to go in and see it. It swept around corners with a wonderful swirl of green
and we were able to feel the crop. Mr. Davis had been trying out some new farming ideas and they had really paid off. Occasionally, we meet him and his family in town. What a delightful family! The children are full of bubble and bounce and they love the farm animals. So encouraging for those of us who have been connected to farming and lived next to it for all our lives.

Meanwhile, we are all coping with the apple harvest, which has been a bumper one this year. We are all standing over pans and cooking away with mixed spice and just a little of Mick’s honey, or perhaps, a bit more and a spoonful all on it’s own, just to make sure that the latest batch is o.k.

John Painter has had his wild meadow harvested and made into round bales. What happy memories of wild wild flowers as the bales are stacked up. Happy memories of our spaniel Marcus who loved to go over Duncan Vincent’s back field here. He would walk among the drying grass having the best and most interesting sniff of the year. How we both loved that autumn walk. Meanwhile, John’s old lathe is happy settling in to the Photographer’s work shop, where it has it’s own corner. All of the Photographer’s engineering friends have had much advice to give and the machine hasn’t actually turned it’s restored wheel yet!

The newly planted trees in the garden have given us great pleasure this year. They have grown well and are looking strong. We enjoy walking around them in the evening as the sun goes down and all the birds have flown over to their roost.

Meanwhile, Wes and Josie have created an autumn to do list. The rot in the front door is to be replaced with fresh wood and Josie is freshening up the front door. When they have done this, the porch will have a new lease of life. Much to our relief, They are going to replace the old shower and Josie is ordering new tiles and has paint to match the work. This has all needed doing for some time. It will all be so cheery again. Hoorah.

2 Pieris enjoying an evening Aster…..Why do they look so lovely here and so threatening on a cabbage plant?

Butterfly’s are aplenty as they fly around the orchard and the stream burbles in the background as we sit on the bridge, which has now been replaced and regained its former beauty.

All in all, autumn has bounced in in a most charming manner, and we reflect on this, as we sit on our favourite seat in the churchyard in the little town. We can light a candle now and watch it flicker as we leave, this almost peaceful place in the little town.

We have managed to return to Blacks, which is so close by this quiet place and enjoy being spoilt by Chris and Catherine as we rest our old bones sitting next our dear friend Jim, who joins us for a cup of coffee.

Yes. Peaceful autumn has returned and with it much of the world we knew before the arrival of Coved to our shores. Let’s do our best to drive it out again.

San Francisco at 1045 in the morning under the wildfire haze

A sad and distressing footnote to the blog has been this picture, sent to us by dear Jenny in California. She is currently surrounded by smoke. Her current state just reminds us of how fortunate some of us have been. We all send you our good wishes dear Jenny. We think of you. The next candle is for you with a prayer that it will all go away.

Footnote:

3rd time lucky!! The bridge installed yet again. Let’s hope it stays this time

 

Words by Sue

Pictures by Peter

Visit our Facebook Page at Dartmoor Diary Facebook Page and The Photographer is abandoning Artfinder,  ( Peter Bennett on Artfinder ) so contact him directly on Peter Bennett Photos email

The Photographer’s snapshots for this blog can be seen on     Dartmoor Diary Flickr Album or all his snapshots on  Flickr (follow link)           The serious stuff is currently only available directly from The Photographer except for a few left on his  Saatchi Art shop

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     

Part 2: I told you you so

By The Photographer’s Assistant

The weather event has occurred. Yesterday, for the first time in many months, we decided to walk to meet Jim the Artist. Previously we had met on Zoom and in the open air. Only last week we had been able to meet in our garden, have lunch and, at last Josie got to discuss art with a fellow artist. It bucked her up no end! A walk across the field was in the shade amidst the heat. As we walked through the stream, it was woefully low. The stepping stones were high in the trickle of water. On entering the town, Josie went to see a friend, having cuddled a few precious flowers for her on her way. The Photographer and the Assistant grabbed a bun and met Jim. They went on to the churchyard, a place of quiet and welcome as they sat in the graveyard. It began to rain a little and they sheltered under a tree. They managed to sit until 3 o’clock when it began to come on to rain seriously. They found an empty room at the Three Crowns and ordered tea. It was a lovely cup of tea. The threesome chatted on about all sorts of nonsense as friends do. It was really raining hard now, but they continued chatting. The rain became very heavy. The Photographer attempted to get into the entrance way. It was hard to stand away from the rain, but he just about managed. He had the right camera with him. He was able to take this picture of the graveyard. It was now an altered place. You could have used it on a set for Wuthering Heights. The heavy rain was sheeting and it was so hard. He could see a red Wheely Bin in the middle of the road and wondered what it was doing there until it floated past. Cars were struggling in the depth of water. The Photographer continued to click away. Eventually, he just had to come back in.

Have you heard the one about a man who went into a pub and said there is this big red wheely bin floating down the road……….

From where we were sitting, we could see people queuing at the door, changing their mind and coming back in. The entrance was very wet. People were soaked and dripping. The threesome decided on another cup of tea. It was clear that they must stay here. They had to get hold of Josie who might be on the road going home. No answer on her mobile. The waiter arrived to say that the cellar was flooded. There would be no tea or coffee as the plugs were soaking. The room had become uncomfortably full and the three could not distance themselves from a woman, who had a persistent cough. The decision was made to leave. Jim left for home and the twosome decided to find Josie. The thought of poor Josie, without a coat and in a thin frock, having recently been shielded, was very frightening.

St Michael’s churchyard. This is not a Black & White, it really was this dark.

Josie was found with her friend, safe and dry, having enjoyed a lovely, relaxing afternoon sipping Prosecco in a beautiful garden. What a relief! Everyone enjoyed a nice sit down while the rain calmed as much as it was going to. Everywhere was either flooded or drowned in the rain. The pretty little town had turned from being a major tourist attraction to an ugly drowned rat. The threesome began walking. The rain was just lighter now and Wes was just too far from home to come and collect them, so they continued down MIll Hill. There were some jolly people in the Folklore Cafe as they passed, but it really was getting on a bit and there were suppers to get and lots to do at home.They were rather jolly. Jokes about the situation were made. They made way for a rescue truck to pass them. There was a stranded BMW at the side of the road. Thank goodness that they had not brought a Mini with them. Then they saw it. In the middle of the road there was a dip and a deep water barrier. The thought of getting that wet! Very fortunately there was the perfect vehicle approaching. It was a splendid 4×4, which was on its way home. The Photographer stopped it and he and Josie took the tail gate down and jumped in. The Assistant took a more dignified approach and sat inside. Thank you JP Construction.

Thank you to the local 4X4 driver from JP Construction who carried us through this lake

They came to the woods and made their soggy way along. When they reached the stepping stones to cross the stream. The stepping stones were gone and there was a heavy flow of water. Josie had sandals on so she just got wet. The Photographer managed to pull the Assistant across.

When we walked across here 3 hours ago there was set of massive stepping stones and virtually no water in the stream.

The three soaked companions made their way up the field with a cup of tea in mind. Before they had a cup of tea, they went to see if their new bridge, just built across their section of stream was alright. It had gone. The stream had risen many feet and had now subsided. The bridge, which was still intact had been carried until it met a heavy garden table, where it had wedged itself. It is very heavy, and we will need help to drag it out. It has been decided to think about its future position and anchorage over the autumn. Much thought will be put in. Meanwhile, two more bridges are missing, but there is a slate bridge, which we will be able to use.

Where’s my bridge gone?……It was there this morning!…..I spent 2 weeks on that project…….what’s happened?

Our neighbours are all in similar positions. There is damage to repair. Some of it will not be repairable. The change in the seasonal weather is here a little early this year. The Chagford Swimming Pool has 4 inches more water. This sort of thing happens on the Moor. We exchange these happenings for its beauty and remoteness.Yesterday, the geese, who come in the autumn, made an early arrival!

1/2 a tone (500kg) of steel and wood swept 25 yards (metres) downstream without a blink……..the power of water is just amazing

Words by Sue

Pictures by Peter

Visit our Facebook Page at Dartmoor Diary Facebook Page and The Photographer is abandoning Artfinder,  ( Peter Bennett on Artfinder ) so contact him directly on Peter Bennett Photos email

The Photographer’s snapshots for this blog can be seen on     Dartmoor Diary Flickr Album or all his snapshots on  Flickr (follow link)           The serious stuff is currently only available directly from The Photographer except for a few left on his  Saatchi Art shop

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     

Part 1: Community

By The Photographer’s Assistant

This is the time when realisation grips the Moor. Autumn is imminent. One day, possibly as early as September, there will be some sort of huge weather happening, which will turn the season. We will go from hot to perishing cold and wet over night. You will wake up one morning and accept the obvious. You will try not to put the heating on and nestle in blankets to watch the telly. Any other activity at night will mean pressing that little button that will start winter energy consumption. It has to be said that the older you get, the more likely it is that you will drop off on the sofa under one of those warm National Trust blankets, and a small amount of snoring will certainly take place over the evening newspaper review. In short, it’s shut down time.
The little hamlet in which we live is full of activity in preparation.

Jane and John are busy getting their large garden ready for the shut down. They are organising our sewage collection and maintenance and they are having a damaged tree down as well as applying themselves to their university employment. We are very grateful for all that they do.
The Photographer is eyeing the drive, which will need pot hole filling during the heavy winter months. He and some of our neighbours are considering what to do about the recent reduction in broadband, which was caused by the hamlet being “upgraded” onto the “improved” fibre supply! Becky and Peter, our new neighbours, have been busy sorting out their water supply and are working hard on many tasks that need completion. They have been a wonderful addition to our community. They are very positive and interested in all that is going on. The Assistant has been stream clearing and vegetable processing. Josie has been shed painting and making huge quantities of soup. Everyone has been fixing up a wood supply for their fire. David, our other neighbour, has also been about with maintenance to do He undoubtedly has the best lawn. The badgers, who were such a worry, have removed themselves to the scruffy section of the Photographer’s patch, where there is plenty to eat. At least two houses have been sold in our little community. We shall be sad to see Nick going with his family and wish him and his family well in their new home. Andrew will be staying at Woodlands farm and will be joined by new neighbours. We are so pleased that he will be staying. He is our only connection with the hamlet’s deeper past. We all loved Winnie and John, his close relatives, and it will just be lovely to have him here still. Paul and Jane continue with their large garden, their hens and their dog. Plenty to be going on with! The Old Chapel continues to be a holiday home. The summer whoops of joy keep us all cheery. Virginia and David are our senior and much respected elders. They are always good for some advice and cheer. Virginia paints wonderful pictures and makes splendid pots. David is very up to date on everything and makes a lovely job of his garden. Their garden has a wonderfully relaxed atmosphere. Mike Bond has started trimming his hedge and his neighbours, Lionel and Sally, have a very beautiful garden too. David and Jenny have been out and about and we love hearing their ducks in the garden.

Freshly harvested fruit and vegetables from the garden for the Assistant to process

All in all, we are kept busy with many items that are provided for in town. We supply our own water. There is no public water supply. Many of us have bore holes, which we maintain with the help of a local contractor. Half the village deals with its own sewage. There is no gas in the road.
There is no water hydrant in case of fire. Swimming often takes place in the River Teign, which is a feature of the village. Broadband is a real problem. The locally recommended company cannot supply any house that is out of sight of its mast. Since Covid, there are a number of villagers working from home. You will find them in the strangest of places linking up to their work as best they can. Josie has recently found a seat in the garden, an acre away from the house. She has a huge speed there as it connects with the Little Town’s supply. Occasionally, she can use the stable block and is working on setting this up for the winter, while maintaining the building as it is!

Construction by Wesley……over engineered design by The Photographer

The big job at the family home this year has been building a new bridge, which mimics the old one, in order to get the ride on mower across the leat. When Josie accidentally put her foot through the bridge it moved right up the “to do list”. The Photographer and Wes spent some time working out measurements, best materials etc. And last week the wood arrived. The two spent the whole weekend constructing the new bridge. It is amazing and really does help. Wes, in particular, went to work with a will and would not stop until the bridge was complete. All that work that he has done in the past on sheds and garden places for other people really came to the fore. In addition to his normal job, building and maintaining swimming pools, he has been helping to run the Little Town’s swimming pool to the extent that competitive swimmers, whose normal pool may not be open, have been coming to practice their swimming.

A bridge over completely untroubled water

Mick came over for supper with Josie and Wes. He is very wise about trees. He gave us some advice and brought his chain saw. The Photographer had been worried for some months about how to deal with the old apple tree, which had had a disease and had fallen in the spring. Mick made short work of it and we were grateful.

John brought his historic lathe over for the Photographer. He wanted someone to have it, who may be able to know how it was used. This was a great success and the Photographer will spend a happy winter in his workshop sorting it out and contemplating its use. Thank you John!

Indeed, everybody has been so helpful that we would like to send a gift to the community. Obviously, with social distancing, we cannot deliver these flowers individually, but would like to send you these sweet peas.

A basket of sweet peas for all our readers

Finally, we would like to thank Jenny, our San Francisco correspondent, for all her months of hard work. She has now given up her Pandemic Diary, which has been so informative over all these months.

And then…….and then…….something happened……See Part 2 published tomorrow………

Words by Sue

Pictures by Peter

Visit our Facebook Page at Dartmoor Diary Facebook Page and The Photographer is abandoning Artfinder,  ( Peter Bennett on Artfinder ) so contact him directly on Peter Bennett Photos email

The Photographer’s snapshots for this blog can be seen on     Dartmoor Diary Flickr Album or all his snapshots on  Flickr (follow link)           The serious stuff is currently only available directly from The Photographer except for a few left on his  Saatchi Art shop

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     

A Winter Monday

By “The Photographer’s Assistant”

 

Monday can be a very gloomy day in other peoples’ lives. You can wake up on a Monday morning, having had a simply glorious weekend and feel shattered and just plain miserable, or you can do what the Photographer and the Assistant do. The Assistant has got up very early and is busy enabling a quick exit. You can defy the pile of work on your desk, put on your coat, hat and gloves, lock the doors. Leave it all.This can even be done on your way to work, though at a different place on the by-pass etc. If you haven’t got money, forget that too and just do this. You would not believe the difference it will make to your week. Simply defy your mood, stop off and buy yourself a bacon roll, if possible with an egg as well. Boost your own worth and defy the norm. In addition, you will give you, not your employer, more time in the day!

Just a little bit of gossamer over the Little Town

 

The Photographer and his Assistant, having abandoned the office and home, strap on the rucksack and set off for the little town. Its hard, but if they have had that good a weekend, they deserve to suffer! The hills are a huge and a heavy climb, but eventually, when you have mounted the first hill and turned one corner, the sight you see will really take your breath away. You will see the expansive high moor, and if you are lucky, it will be shrouded in a gossamer mist. It is, at this very moment that you will know why you came to live here. If you can think of anywhere more beautiful, then you are very fortunate. As you climb down the hill, you will come to the bridge. It is narrow and a curse to the motorist, but a delight to the walker. The river below is a magnificent sight and you might see a heron if you are fortunate. There follows another enormous climb when you feel that your lungs might burst and then you are there. You are in the little town.

As it is an early Monday morning, you will see waste disposal trucks and delivery trucks pushing and shunting in the little square. You can’t just be an average driver, you have to be outstanding to win this battle. We should suggest it as one of those Top Gear challenges. No expensive foreign trip, just a hair raising adventure on Dartmoor!

Here we are. We have arrived. We are outside the deli, where whatever the weather, we eat out under the shop front. Our chairs await. We are expected. Felt cushions have been put in place in expectation of our arrival. Our tea mugs have been warmed and all is in place.

Bacon and Egg and a Pot of Tea, ….perfick!

 

The baguettes are so stuffed with bacon and the eggs so delicious that they ooze out of the sides. Once the Assistant wore her best and most expensive walking jacket, purchased by the Photographer in a moment of concern for the bedraggled appearance of his companion, and it got covered in egg yolk. Desperate mopping took place, but it has lost a little of its lustre. The two tucked in and emptied the generous tea pot into their mugs. The warmth of the tea defrosted their hands and it flooded through their veins.
The two surveyed the scene. As the shops opened the local inhabitants began to appear. The butcher was busy about his tasks, as customers looked thoughtfully into his window. What to eat on a Monday when you had had too much to eat at the weekend? It couldn’t be anything so luxurious as a piece of chicken, or, alas, a duck breast. Perhaps some mince would suffice? If you added vegetables it might last until Wednesday, when the next decision must be made. Oh dear! The two companions looked dubiously over at the chemists. Some surprising inhabitants were going in and out. Last week’s prescriptions were being collected. There was Old So and So. They hadn’t seen him for ages. He was slouched down and looking thoroughly glum. Oh dear! There is a huge amount of greeting as people go past and one rare meeting. The Only Black Artist in Devon is passing by. He stops and has a chat. His art is continually going up in the world. The Photographer sighs. It is not the same for photographers. Sometimes, they are recognised after they have died. He thinks of his photographs in the stock library on the internet. Sometimes, he is paid a very small sum for his work. Oh dear! The Artist is on his way to North Devon. Ever on the go, he is catching a bus. It will be a long haul.

Paul

The breakfast is followed by deeply contented sighs and small luxury purchases of cheese or even, when feeling flush a delicious pie for lunch.

Appetites satisfied, the two head for home, meeting a huge recycling truck as they ascend the narrow hill. By now the little streets are busy, but the companions are long gone. As they descend to the last hill, they spot one of the village’s oldest inhabitants. They pass the time of day and continue on their way. The two must be home for mid morning as the Photographer has an urgent call to make. The Photographer sees smoke in the far distance and goes to speak to The Gardener. The Gardener is well known to the village and had, in the past, when he gardened in a garden bordering theirs, helped the Photographer when the Assistant found the work too hard. A happy conversation ensued as the Gardener continued with his bonfire. Gardens of the past were discussed and happy memories were explored. The Gardener was respected and the Photographer took some pictures.

The Gardener, an expert in the Art of the Bonfire

Dear Winnie

 

The Assistant arrived home and put the kettle on the kitchen range. She knew that the Photographer would want a rest and some coffee before the urgent tasks of the day were done.

Mid morning was spent over a delicious cup of coffee, beans having been purchased only that morning from the deli. The Photographer having made his call gave out a contented sigh as he surveyed his Monday and found it to be very pleasant, especially as he had the rest of the day ahead of him. He thought of his daughters, who would have a long day at work, and many years to go and both he and the Assistant felt sad.