Cast your mind back to The Prodigal
Wife and the coastguard cottage
in which Cordelia lived and worked. This was set somewhere on the
Devon coast within reach of both Kingsbridge and Dartmouth. Not so
the cottage from whence came the inspiration for this dwelling.
Last Saturday and
the weather was iffy – slightly better than forecast being bright
but still cold. As some of the writers of the Georgian period would
have put it: cold and cold. Marcia’s mobile beeped. It was a text
from one of Marcia’s great friends, Anne.
‛Tea and some
cake this afternoon?’
Lovely idea.
Especially as it is Anne who lives in the old coastguard cottage –
albeit down in Cornwall – referred to above. I have been meaning to
let you see some reasonable pictures of the views that Anne enjoys
but the last few trips down there have been in the rain or when the
bay was home to a heavy mist. Not so last Saturday as the following
will show. You really can’t blame Anne for wanting to live there,
can you?
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As we approached Anne's cottage, there was a man paragliding over our heads. If you look very carefully you can just see him hanging in the sky straight up from the road.
As I remarked, it was cold and cold but bright. For the first time it was possible to sit outside but only if well protected from that cold and, in Marcia's case, from the glare.
While we were there I shot some video. I won't bore you with much but this gives you some idea of the view from Anne's terrace.
We were about to leave when a drilling rig being towed down the channel by two tugs came into sight around Rame Head. Again I am afraid, you will need to look very carefully to be able to see it and the tugs are almost invisible.
On our way home, we diverted to take in Looe and suddenly there was this wonderful light on the sea.
Yesterday we had to
cross the moor to Tavistock. That makes it sound like a penance which
was far from the truth. For weeks we have suffered from cold winds
from the north and east which have given us the clear cold weather
described above. During Wednesday night things began to change: a low
pressure system which had been held at bay in the north Atlantic by a
ridge of high pressure for ages edged closer and closer. By morning
the wind was from the south and the thermometer reading was up by
five degrees but we could see, building up in the west, the heavy
grey clouds that presage rain.
Thus we drove
across Dartmoor with the light constantly changing as the sun peered
through between the clouds to light this hill or that tor and, before
there was time to stop the car let alone take a picture, that streak
of brightness would die away and everything would become dull and
rather dreary for a few minutes.
The moor has a
strange look this year, almost as if it were late summer or early
autumn with all the green gone and the grasses, sedges, reeds,
bracken and so on various shades of yellow and brown – the only
greens in sight being that of the firs and the gorse.
Marcia
shopping in The Happy Apple in Totnes.
Quiz for the week.
What animal is this? Answer next week.
The blog dog this
week is Lady. Well, she is, isn’t she?
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