Places – A Corner of Cornwall

The View from Here: Dungeness

The panorama is surreal, alien, unique
The view from here is harsh and it takes no prisoners

I may have been eager for what has seemed like an especially long winter to end, but a small part of me has been glad we have had to wait for a run of reliable spring days, because I have been writing about Dungeness in winter. A task which doesn’t sit easily among vistas of skipping lambs and primroses, soft blue skies and playful breezes. Continue reading “The View from Here: Dungeness”

A Triptych on Dartmoor: patience is its own reward

The third of three

The fire was warm; the chairs were comfortable

Reverend Baring-Gould’s A History of Dartmoor would have looked perfect, lying carelessly on this polished table. Continue reading “A Triptych on Dartmoor: patience is its own reward”

A Triptych on Dartmoor: a tor, a trip, a tourist tale

Second of three

Sometimes stories are necessary for quieting the soul

Bogs … prisons … tors …

It is said that no matter where you look on Dartmoor, you can’t help but have a tor in view. Frustrating then, that I managed to miss all of them in the wider landscape shots I took. But we did spend some time getting acquainted with one tor in particular. Continue reading “A Triptych on Dartmoor: a tor, a trip, a tourist tale”

A Triptych on Dartmoor: two wars; one church; one prison and a teller of tales

First of three

Beginning with useful advice on bogs

Three related posts that have hung around for too long, so much so that I’ve been tempted to ditch them as being out of date and of relatively little interest. They were supposed to be three short posts. They’ve grown. There’s a lesson there…

Continue reading “A Triptych on Dartmoor: two wars; one church; one prison and a teller of tales”

Dartmoor: with thanks to Conan Doyle

“To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation–sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles.” Continue reading “Dartmoor: with thanks to Conan Doyle”

The View from Here: water, water, everywhere

The view from here has been aqueous

B new years eve January draws to a close. One month ago this evening – on New Year’s Eve – it was wet. Torrentially wet. The tale of our attempts to enjoy the NYE celebrations at Looe may resurface at more length one day but for now I shall say only that the weather played a significant, and not very pleasant, role. B’s face probably says it all. Continue reading “The View from Here: water, water, everywhere”

The View From Here: reaching back

For me there was an atavistic connection: strong and raw. Unsophisticated, preliterate.

There was a darkness so thick it felt like a warm bath, yet the air was crackling sharp with cold. And the pin-bright sliver of moon hung over the water between the cliffs. A scimitar shining; sprinkling magic. Continue reading “The View From Here: reaching back”