Somerset

May 18

Left Exeter in Devon where we had some van work done (sort of “just in case” work) and David says the van is zippier. So we headed out to YET ANOTHER STEAM TRAIN. This time we are in Somerset. When we reach the site we find a banner for an “art train” the next day, so we waited to experience that. The train runs about 36 miles from Bishops Lydeard to Minehead on the sea. And also, simultaneously there is one running in the opposite direction. It makes stops at Crowcombe Heathfield, Strgumber, Williton, Watchet, Washford, Blue Anchor and Dunster. At each of these places there are artists and/or musicians. So you buy tickets that allow you to get off and on at will. The trains do not change their schedule for the event.

May 19

So we get up fairly early from our sleep behind the local butcher shop and after a quick breakfast of muesli and a banana we make our way to the station. Lots of folks are gathering, some of them musicians which will stay at this station. We get on the train and I overhear a conversation about how to take the train so that you don't have to stay an hour in each place which would eat up your day pretty quickly. (David is taking pictures...I don't know if I will ever see him again. Not only does he take photos but he talks to all the train guys, this time they are mostly paid but ticket men etc. are volunteers. There are men at each station working on the tracks, cleaning them and making sure they are heading in the right direction! He will talk to anyone remotely involved!) So back to the conversation across the isle. This guy has come up with a plan and printed it out to follow along the way. It involves taking a train two stops ahead and then back tracking on the train going the opposite direction to the one we missed....and this goes on all up, and down, the line. Well David shows up and tries to understand the schedule when showed by the originator. Forget it...says David. We are just going to follow you! So this is Bob, husband of Pauline who put this event together and is running around in her car checking on all the artists etc. Bob is accompanied by his sister-in-law Sue and her friend Beatrice. Fine and fun people who are more than happy to have us come along. So on and off the train in one direction or other and we see examples for sale of ceramics, glass, sculpture, Punch and Judy show, textiles, paper making, metal work, wood carving, driftwood art, paintings, drawings and prints...some of them very very good. The wood carver was really amazing. He had been to conferences and competitions all over the world and won some of them. He was working on an otter. “Do you like fish & chips?”, he said. Yes! So he gave me a paper cone filled with wood shavings and a little fish he had carved sitting on the top. A thrill for me! So that was Tad the carver. Then I met a lady painter, Annabel. “Your work looks a bit like the Canadian Group of Seven” I said. A big smile from her. She says,”I have all their books! They are my inspiration!” We talked about what mediums we use in our art. Turns out we are both using oil pastels so we had some discussion on technique. We will keep in touch. A card of our favorite image is on our camper wall. We had lunch with Bob, wife and crew in one of the small towns and shortly we separated as they were going to head back to the starting point. By now we knew the drill and could continue on our own! Each time we got back on the train we chatted with new people who sat across from us. The last folks were very helpful. The fellow gave David information on what bridge to stand on to get a great picture of the train. And he also gave us names of a few garages that might help with our refrigerator, which was not working. So we did not go far to find a sleeping place that night. We sought out the bridge which was at one of the stops so we would be ready the next morning. I really got into it, too...with my camera. We played the waiting game and heard the unforgettable steam whistle a comin'! Yikes, we only have seconds to get the picture of pictures! Then we see the steam! Wouldn't you know, the engine was at the head of the train where it should be, but it was backwards with the coal at the front. Okay, we will wait 45 minutes and get the train coming the other way. A lovely spot to be. An old stone bridge and a small village and the guys working on the tracks. Before we knew it the whistle sounded in the distance again and then the steam and the excitement of that special shot. Another backwards engine! Oh well, we had a bunch of fun on that little bridge. And we did get some good shots.

Wells. A large cathedral in this small town. We heard that we could attend a 45 minute Evensong with one of the best choirs in England, boys and girls, men and women. So this was our next goal. We stumbled into something very special. It was the Queen's Jubilee Service at this Cathedral. We were asked for our tickets! Well, they saved a few rows at the back for non ticket holders so we humbly took our seats. The procession of this High English Cathedral was beautiful...beautiful costuming of which I understood nothing. Who was the guy in the bright pink skull cap? A cardinal? I did know who the bishop was as he gave a wonderful sermon. Most of this “parade” were men in long robes but one woman, Lady somebody in a hat like the Queen's, read the scripture. The choir sang and sang throughout the hour. Like angels it sounded. Perfect harmonies with the children's voices blending so beautifully. Boy sopranos. Remarkable. We toured the church later taking photos as usual and waited until 5:00 pm to watch the ornate but humorous clock strike the time...out comes about four crusaders on horse chasing each other and flailing their swords. One fellow got hit many times!

So one would think that would be enough in a day. But we drove on to Glastonbury and had time to climb the tor. Glastonbury is a place of pilgrimages and climbing to the top to the old bell tower is one of them. Thirty years ago I did this. It was a moving thing to do it again. Then I was forty...this week I am seventy! I was quite new age then. It was a realm in the mists then. (The mists of Avalon are here!) Today, I am solidly spiritual and dabble with the Christian faith in my own way. My feet are on the ground. The mysterious mists are still here! It was as much a thrill.

May 21 HAPPY BIRTHDAY IRENE!

Ahhhh. Glastonbury Abbey. Only some of it still stands, mainly because of Henry Vlll who appointed himself head of all churches and then proceeded to steal everything of value. He needed the money to defend his borders. Christian beginnings began there long before that. It is also a place of King Arthur and Gwenevier(sp?) who were buried on these grounds and whose bodies were moved to the abbey and a tomb erected to honor them. There was a time when much of these lands were under water. It is below sea level. The tor stood above. Are these waters the place of legends of Arthur and his men and all the beautiful women? So, that is one aspect to think about. It is exciting. And then there is the other. It is thought that Jesus came here with his uncle, Mary's brother, Joseph of Aramenthea(sp?). Joseph brought olive oil and wine in amphora or cruets. They have been found many places. He also brought the chalice from the Last Supper with the blood of Christ in it and buried it somewhere. (Some say it is in the well close by where there are two outlets from which you can taste. One is reddish (iron?) and the other clear. One has a taste of blood to it. We did not try the waters.) Also Joseph is said to have put his staff into the ground and from that the Thorn Tree grew. It is not the same as the Hawthorns all over Britain, but looks very much like the thorns of Christ's crown and blooms twice each year. Once at Easter and once at Christmas. We were taken to two of these trees and told that these trees come from that first ancestor, as the gardeners keep them going and replace them when needed. Each Christmas a thorn twig is cut from one of those trees and the Queen finds it on her Christmas morning breakfast table. Legend? Truth? It is the mystery that keeps us interested, mesmerized and caught in that “thin place”. I am blessed to be a two time pilgrim.

The town shops are full of new-age items...crystals, jewelry, voodoo, mysterious paintings, healing herbs, clothing, tattooing, candles, talismen and fortunes. I am sure there are pagan rituals happening in old and beautiful sacred places close by. Music played, dances danced, chants sung. There is one place in the first building of the abbey, a floor dug under the Lady's chapel (whose floor is no longer there) where it is covered overhead and is a holy place. It is still a place of worship to many. Most of the space has the sky for a roof with sweeping arches still forming the outline of the ceiling. The last time I went there I sobbed. It was powerful again.

From here we needed some soft re-entry. We drove through the Cheddar Gorge, through soft rounded rocks piled high above. Softer than we are used to seeing in the Pacific NW. Not wild and free but gentle and welcoming. Lots of hikers. The English are the best hikers. They love their walks. Off they go with boots, pants tucked into wooly socks, packs on their backs , a jaunty hat, and of course the walking stick.

We found just the right kinda guy to look at our camper refrigerator. Gary. He gives it some good thought...and digs in. His thought is that some dirt has fallen into the works. He pulls it out “with brute force and ignorance”, fools with it, blows the system out and it works! At least that is my report! I am sure that David would tell you what was really wrong in more detail, but do you really need to know?! Gary lives in Weston-S-Mare on the coast. It is windy and cold, even in the sun. The Olympic Torch relay is happening, starting at the bottom of Cornwall at Lands-end and it is coming near here we know. We are trying to stay out of the traffic and crowd.

May 22

Let's go to Bath. This morning we drive to Bath. Maybe we will take a walking tour of the city. It is such a good way to get the history. But we find the city full. Kids out of school. Roads blocked...the Torch is still on it's way but it will be in Bath today. Okay. New plan. On to the Cotswold’s with a stop in Avebury on the way. At a cross-roads somewhere we stop at a graveyard and small perfect memorial chapel. The lines of the structure are so pleasing, with a spire placed a bit off to the side on an otherwise perfectly symmetrical building and it works beautifully. We go into the sweet interior and find a room with a book of Memorials, open to the page of the day. There was just one entry on that day...and it was perfectly calligraphed with pen and ink...very fine work. And delicately colored bits of art. As you would see in the days of monks and their beautiful illuminations. We meandered among the ancient headstones. I was struck at how we human beings care enough to place a loved one in a cozy beautiful place, keep it clean, mow the lawn and bring fresh flowers on occasions. I saw a dozen fresh yellow roses placed at a grave...on the date of the person's death, this day in 2009. Nearing Avebury we see the huge white chalk horse on the hill...only to find out that there are many in the area and one can buy a map to find them all.

Avebury is a big place. The roads run through it and quarter it. The standing stone circles are huge as are the stones themselves. We walk among the sheep and rabbits and stones and up to the berm that surrounds it. This must have been a gathering place of worship and celebration for many villages around it. David and I reflect upon the other lonely stones and circles we have come across in our travels in France. Quiet, out of the way, in pouring rain or foggy mists...no people...giving us the opportunity to ponder and feel the past. Tonight we are in Stow-on-the-Wold ready to walk it's streets in the morning. We love England!

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> To the KleeWyck gang. I was just reading a book written over 100 years ago. The author describes a sunset. After the sun went down behind the sea horizon, an absolute green light flashed, “like a firework out of a rocket!” I have yet to see that green light. Have any of you? I know that some of you have looked.

> Town names...Pagans Hill, Shockerwick, Wookey Hole, Pruddy, Cheddar, Chew Stoke, Dumbleton, Wormington, Fish Hill, Guiting Power

> There are grey cows here. I guess there used to be many but now there are just one or two in a crowd. Also cows are different in manner here. They can be found snoozing in a pack or running in a pack. Cows running?

> In the parking lot in Glastonbury we met a woman who had a Westphalia Camper and we shared looks at each others vans. She and her dog are taking off this week for a year's travel in Europe. An RN who always wanted to travel freely. Brave lady. We will keep in touch with her and perhaps even meet her again.

> When I was in the Glastonbury chapel ruin alone, I glanced over at a bench and on it was a plaque that said...”In memory of Marlene”. For a few moments she was there with me.

May 25

Let's see, we were in Stow-on-the-Wold when last I wrote. A place to stop and walk and look in flowery yards and small paned windows with old plates of blue and white...and cream jugs. Are they placed there for us or them? It is the 23^rd and we decide to head for Hidcote, a garden that David has known about for years. It is one of the great English gardens... an American's interpretation of a dreamy English garden. He loved to make outside rooms. The plantings are relatable to us in the Pacific NW as much of them are the same. The airy fresh rooms are separated by yew trees clipped to form hedges or separated by stick fences and a few stone walls. The plants are not labeled. It is more informal than that. So one wanders from themed room to themed room (the red room, the water room etc.) which finally ends at a forest with walking paths or fields of cows or sheep and distance forests. We were not disappointed, so much so that we bought a membership in the National Trust which allows us to enter each NT site free (and park free). Gardens, gold mines, idyllic villages, standing stone neolithic sites, Roman ruins and castles and on and on. Well worth it for the time we are staying.

We spent that night in Chipping Campton. We awoke to a news announcement on the radio. Now, bring to mind a well spoken soft English woman's voice as she says, “The Olympic Torch was lost this morning for ten minutes in the fog and the rain along the back lanes.” We identified. Just as shops were opening we walked through town. David bought a book, Britain's Most Amazing Places, in the Red Cross secondhand store. We found a wonderful gallery and I bought some small exhibition books so that I could take all that art home with me. Then, in a little deli, we bought local cheddar cheese and some pickled herring which we ate for breakfast!

“Let's use our new National Trust membership again!” So we pick Snowshill Manor and Gardens. The home of C.P. Wade, who inherited a sugar plantation and did not have to work anymore. It's a good thing as he had all the time in the world to collect pieces of the past from England and many countries and also make and paint things to go with it such as a made up Wade Coat of Arms. His manor is so full of stuff, way too dark and full for him to live in. It was really a show place for his collection. He lived and worked in the smaller house behind. It all started when he was a little boy and discovered Granny's cupboard, which he was not allowed to touch, only stare at and dream. The cupboard was an elaborate piece of Chinese furniture, with doors open so one could see into all the cubby holes and find what granny had put there. Little expensive treasures. He dreamed and dreamed. What would he put there? And maybe he would change that little vase and put it in with the plate...that kind of thing. Well, his manor has the original granny's cupboard and many more of the same look and vintage, filled with his own small treasures. The rest of the house was filled with masks, Asian warrior costumes, paintings, small sculptures of animals and people, plates, glass objects, bedroom with linens, bed shirts etc. The bed is a rope bed. Okay, you know how the ropes would be woven to the bed frames to provide softness before the mattress gets put on. The docent said that the ropes would start to sag and would have to be tightened periodically. Hence came the saying...”Night, Night, Sleep tight “(ropes)...and there was also “Don't let the bed bugs bite.” She did not say anything about the bed bugs. The garden was lovely. Benches everywhere to sit upon and watch the butterflies and the busy bees at work...or to stop in time and enjoy the outdoor rooms he also had a liking for. Two other small villages we visited close by. One of them was especially memorable because it had no stores, only tall old residences all different but all made out of the same local yellow stone, and winding beautifully along the snake-like road. Off to the side; gardens, tiny lanes and foot paths. We took one of those paths to the little church. I was especially taken by some of the inscriptions on the church walls, one being such a beautiful tribute to a daughter who died at 16. Morton-on-the-Marsh was our overnight stop. We were there early enough to walk the main street (always it seems, called High Street). The main market is from Roman times. It is still used and sits in the center of town. We looked in shop windows and stopped for a beer in the garden behind a pub as the weather is still very warm in these parts. Not an ice cold glass of beer (which we would have liked) but warm beer as is the norm. We walked around to the back streets following our noses to the church steeple. The church doors were locked but the yard of gravestones was so very quiet and calming. I think it is a place used to escape the town. We encountered a young couple talking on a bench overlooking an English view. And others entered the gates perhaps as a short-cut to home, perhaps to read a book undisturbed.

So I have caught up to May 25^th. Another glorious sunny day and my 70^th birthday. It can't be, but it is. I am glad to be in a place unknown so I can slowly feel my way into this decade. David woke me very early with the birthday song. It seems the perfect day to have read this passage in Dinah Craik's book. “...not withstanding everything without that seems to imply our perishableness, we are conscious of something within which is absolutely imperishable.” David was a special dear to me all day. He was all I needed! We ate dinner at Toby Carvery. A Carvery is carved roast of course and a British favorite! Our choice of ham, beef, pork or turkey...and Yorkshire pudding filled with gravy! (Not nearly as good as my mother's.) And roasted or mashed potatoes, peas, mashed turnips, roasted onions, creamed cauliflower and broccoli. So we chose our favorites and “pigged out” which is really the first time in 4 months. Oh yeh...we had ice cream covered in carmel sauce. It was my birthday!

May 26

Today a visit to Prinknash Abbey (pronounced Prinnish. You really have to be British to know how to say some of these names. It is not a matter of phonetics!). We slept in the parking lot so used the time before it opened in the morning to clean out our van and get rid of stuff and repack. It was a very successful endeavor and as a result left books with a monk for resale in their used book department. There are still about 8 monks in the monastery, most very old. The grounds are like a storybook illustration. Huge healthy deciduous trees of different species. After a latte in the cafe, we asked to see a collection of models so we were taken downstairs to fend for ourselves and promised to turn our the lights and lock the door when we left. These were model kits put together by one man with a passion for all big and old shrines; churches, abbeys, cathedrals, the White House, manors and castles, medieval villages etc, all painstakingly put together. It was really quite impressive. Basement darkened and locked we headed up the road to the Monastery Chapel to hear the noontime chants of the monks and try to join in where indicated. Peacocks were chanting their own special cry in the distance where there was a bird sanctuary.

Our stove and refrigerator have stopped working again so we have contacted our mechanic friend Gary and while we are waiting to hear from him we are biding our time in nearby places. We stop in Painswick next. The churchyard is sort of like a theme park. Many trees line the walks and all have been buzzed and shaped and lean this way and that, some have grown together and form a tunnel. Quite a sight. Lots of angels for me to photograph in the church, and patterns on the walls and floor. I seem to have a fascination with angels. I wonder what I will do with them when the trip is over? Or what they will do with me? And lastly we go to the town of Cirencester (siren sester) another former Roman stronghold and it shows. Of course, by now you know our patterns, we make our way to the very large parish church. Inside it is so welcoming and warm...different from most large stone churches. There are fresh flowers everywhere and we are told that the floor was taken up and now has heat flowing under the stone tiles allowing the church to stay at a comfortable temperature in all seasons. We wander with our cameras as there is lots of art to photograph. And there is a concert scheduled in a bit over an hour. A really good concert but it is sold out! The men who are preparing the space say...never mind we will get you in. And they did! It was fabulous. Bach's B Minor Mass. Some of it was extra beautiful to my ears. I am not a huge fan of the harpsichord...or in general, the Baroque style, but these were talented performers. The English Singers, many from the Cambridge Singers at one time...and a small symphonic orchestra. The soloists were really top-notch. Two sopranos, one bass, one tenor and one male alto who sang in a falsetto range. Well, we had done it again...heard great music in a great church. Feeling blessed we walked to the car in appreciation of just what is happening to us along the way on this adventure. We are welcomed and well guided by all people. The earth is a good place. Don't forget that.

May 27

Early to rise and drive back to Weston to visit Gary the mechanic who looks at our problem (again the refrigerator has stopped working and also the stove) and offers some new suggestions. Maybe we have put too much propane in our tank when we last filled it. 80% is the limit to allow enough air in the tank to make the pressure happen correctly.

(That is a female type explanation, at least this female!) Gary got it going again but really does not know the answer (American bits and parts). So we are parked down near the beach. We let the stove run for awhile, trying to use up some of that fuel to get the pressure to normal. At this point as I type, David is sleeping upstairs in the breezy pop top. It might be time for lunch.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

>We have lots of lunchtime picnics but in our van with the windows and doors wide...table up and extra chair across from the “couch”. It is a great tradition. Slice up some good bread...salami, sardines, pate and a variety of local cheeses...cucumber, tomatoes, onions, mustard and mayonnaise. Make your own. Maybe a bit of wine which we usually have many bottles of.

> Two bits of info from the last church caretaker, John. (Are they all called John?) 1) When folks in the church died they wanted to be placed in the church floor as close to one of the vertical pillars as possible...a good start to shooting off to heaven I guess. Hence the expression “Pillars of the Community”. 2) In the beginning, there were no benches for the public to sit on, standing room only. But John showed David that there was a stoop around the walls where the infirm could sit. Hence, because you were in such tough shape you were “Up against the wall” with no other place to go.

> How is it that the English pronounce the “h” in herbs and we do not?

> I am not happy with my name here. It means toilet.

> I miss the bird sounds that I heard when growing up. The robin, the Swainsons Thrush.

> This is horse country...so many people on horseback.

> White flowers line the road, daisies, Queen Ann’s lace, white hawthorn in profusion, apple blossoms and another white flower shaped like alium. Some fields are full of buttercups.

> The wind moves the grass as if it were a wave tipped in white, from one end of a field to the other in a sweep, not as though each blade is bent one at a time.

> I see that British faces change as we move to new areas. Maybe the majority of occupants tend to stay where they are through their lives and pass the local “look” along?

> We have noticed several Market-Jew roads and have heard several explanations. While reading my book written over 100 years ago, another answer was given which I will stick with. The Jews would buy tin and other metals from the mines and take it to sell in the town

of Mara-Zion. The locals corrupted the town name and came up with, Market-Jew road.

May 31

Well, the refrigerator and stove are working again so it must have been the pressure in the propane tank. Lesson learned. But now the inside door latch, my side, has stopped working and I can't get out! So to another VW dealer/repair on Monday. They will order a part...but in the meantime they have come up with a list of other things that should be attended to....some we said yes to , some no. Yes to the wobbly right front wheel and the left front which is starting the same action. The pound to the dollar today is about 1 to 1.60. Yikes, not a good time to be paying for car repair! So today, Thursday, we are relaxing in a B&B with free wifi and comfy beds...and an Indian Restaurant down the street which we will try out for dinner. We can pick up our van tomorrow sometime. In the days we have had here in Weston with our van and waiting for car parts to arrive, we have come to really enjoy the town. It's beach front is wonderful. It is really a big park for everyone living nearby. A GRAND PIER with rides and food etc...and at the moment artists are working on the annual sand sculpture competition (they are quite amazing). Fish and chips and ice cream cones are the popular items. Everybody, every age are enjoying walking, riding bicycles or motorized wheel chairs. The second-most high-low tides here in the world (I think Canada's Bay of Fundy is the top). The sand beach stretches for miles, maybe four? It is divided up into sections so that everybody is happy. The regular folks get most but the dogs get some and do they love it! There is a section for kites. One night we went to that end of the beach and watched kids on para foil-propelled sand carts/boards. Tricks of jumping and turning performed. Some learners. Another day we walked the long promenade from end to end. Had a pub beer overlooking the beach. Picnics in the parking lot on the promenade. Yesterday we took a long walk on a peninsula from end to end. Long steep steps to the top, then grassy hilly fields with paths. Hawthorns in bloom. Wildflowers and butterflies. Sun and breezes. Steep Island and Flat Island to the west in Bristol Bay. Evidence of war bunkers and barracks. At the point, a fort, first built to keep Napoleon out...then rebuilt for WWII. Crawled around the site as there were good signs marking the different buildings and what they were used for. The loop back was on the old military road. Rabbits, the cutest and tiniest little guys, popped up here and there to cheer our way. The place...Brean Down. And after that a drive to another National Trust site at Sand Point. We did not have time to walk its paths to a wild bay and a priory but we did walk out to the beach. Another halcyon day.

Tomorrow we will head to Gloucester and then slowly make our way to the Lake District with lots of delicious things planned to see along the way. And always, the surprises. See you next blog!

Cornwall

May 14

Here in Cornwall, they say they are not English but Cornish, the Celtic folk. Well they have much to be tied to in “this neck of the woods”. The sea surrounds this place and can often be seen from the higher places and of course when driving on the edge of the coast. There are foot paths to follow to the top of the tors or to the bottom of the cliffs to the beach or to the ancient stone places. Good art abounds from the locals. Very good art. And Cornish pasties!

From beautiful Devon we drove through the moors to Bodmin, in beautiful Cornwall. A visit to the TI (Tourist Information) left us loaded with lots of ideas. First to a cozy fun pub to get on free wifi. All that warm wood interior. Everyone was there. Families, long time pals, couples...all starting their weekend. We had dinner and a couple of beers while we both worked on the computer. Later, the place to be was the back room of another pub to hear some great folk singing. Shanties from sea stories. Lost loves...usually due to death. Professions of love. Some stories taking many many verses. So true that it mesmerized us all. And some drinking songs of course. And each song had plenty of refrains for us all to join in. A really good evening that filled one's veins with memories of yesterday and stories of today ... and the sweet vulnerability of the performers, just folks who love to sing or play an instrument and share it with a community of the same. A late night but our van and sleeping quarters were just a block away. Saturday, we made our way to the Eden Project which many of you have probably heard of. The project is a futuristic look at what we might do to supply good food to the people of the earth. There are huge bubble structures made of metal frames and non-fuel plastic that contain plantings of a rainforest as in Africa and the Mediterranean. It was hot and steamy in Africa! So like Africa. And exotic Mediterranean foliage. Outside were plantings as experiments in the best way to plant for the healthiest abundant results. It is all built into a huge old clay mining pit. Very interesting. Lots to think about...maybe make a few different choices in our daily lives. This project is very connected to others doing the same kind of work and demonstrations, California being leaders.

We were coming back to Bodmin that evening, to be ready for another steam train ride the next day and still had lots of daylight left so we punched in small towns in the GPS. It is so fun to wander this way. We began to talk about church the next morning. Our choice here is Methodist. We came to a crossroads in the middle of nowhere and there was a parking space across from a Methodist church. This was the town of Gunwen, just the church. Two things solved; where to spend the night and where to go to church. Surely they would not mind us parking there if we intended to attend church! And of course they didn't. We happened on a day of a “Fellowship Service”. No minister, everyone takes a part. Lots of poetry and readings, scripture and stories mixed with old hymns we mostly knew. At the end of the service we chatted with the facilitator and his wife, the organist. Keith and Clarinda. Pretty soon we knew where the key to the church was kept outside, and how to get into the wc. “Please, help yourself!” We had picked up a flyer about a mens choir singing that night in another town so decided to do that after our train ride. Again, David is a crazy man, or boy, when that steam starts chugging. “Listen to that sound! Nothing like it!” It's fun to observe his excitement. Of course all the uniformed train folks are volunteers...ticket lady, flag lady, semi-fore man, engineer, coal shoveler...and others behind the scenes. So David gets into conversation with all of them. On to the mens chorus where we meet up with Keith and Clarinda. The choir sang a good variety of songs and a smile was on my face the whole time. The fellows had red shirts and black bow ties and black sport coats....looking pretty good! And they all loved to sing and some loved to be showmen, too! We said goodbye to our new friends, hoping to meet up again the following Tuesday to hear Keith sing in his mens chorus.

There are many gardens here and that was our plan for the next two days. We had compiled a good list but we woke to hard rain that was not letting up so we switched plans and headed for St. Ives. This is a place I have heard of since childhood. It is an artists town and a fishing town. There is a branch of London's Tate gallery, the Barbara Hepworth sculpture museum and studio and lots of smaller galleries. We parked at the top of the town and took a shuttle to the bottom by the sea, where everything is happening. We hit the Tate as they were changing exhibits so that was a sad state of affairs. We hiked uphill to the sculpture studio and it was good. She was a very feminine woman working in stone. Large pieces. Very talented. You wanted to run your hands over them. Some of the pieces in the garden, we could. This had been her home and studio and garden and was still pretty much the same as when she was alive. She had an interesting life, friend of well established artists, wife of a sculptor and then wife of a painter...4 children...a son with the first and triplets with the second. Stuff for a good biography. Then we enjoyed the town, walking the streets with a pastie in our hands, or Cornish ice cream...then along the seawall and quay. Sand beaches, brightly colored fishing boats. Surfers. A bit further along the south coast we find our place to sleep the night. In the midst of a small scattering of buildings with the church at it's center and a restaurant and hostel. The sea was just over the hill. Two other campers were parked with us.

So today is Tuesday. (We were too far away to drive back to hear our friend Keith sing.) The day has been long and varied. Our first stop was St. Just where we hoped to get online at the library, go to a post office and call some folks in a nearby town to let them know we were close. The library was closed, the post office was open and the phone call got made so we continued our journey, pulling over at an old tin mine and smoke stack and took a trail to the cliffs above a beach. Then a stop at Sunnen Cove where we took a beach walk and watched a surf class...first stages. Go out into a few waves, turn your board and try to get up on your feet! By the time we had walked the beach and back they were all “getting” it. Down the road a bit we saw a sign to Carn Eune. We were not sure what it was but we took the long winding road into the trail head. Up the trail, over a sty and pretty soon we were lost on a dirt road! With the help of a friendly local farmer's directions soon we were on a pleasant grassy path that turned into a very muddy horse trail...but it led the way and we came upon an ancient settlement first begun by early iron age men - 500 BC....then later it was changed and added to by English/Roman people and finally when it was abandoned, someone built a cottage , the ruined remains of which were still there. It was all grass covered and round circle-like thick stone wall shapes. An underground passage of stone was in the middle with two large rooms attached. One had a pit in the center. Meeting place? There was an opening above. For smoke? The other maybe for food storage? A young woman was there ahead of us. David talked to her and she said she had been hitchhiking all over the UK for three years. She was beautiful, tall and shy. She would be staying there overnight...no tent, just something to cover her. She offered David some crackers and peanut butter.

Tonight we are in Mousehole overlooking Mount Bay close to Penzance. St. Micheal’s Mount is across the water. An island that at low tide has a causeway...otherwise you hire a boat. (Very similar to Mount St. Michel in Brittany) It was first a Benedictine monastery but came into the hands of a wealthy family (St. Aubyn) and they built the castle that stands on it today. The descendents still own it and allow visitors.

May 17

Yesterday we had a date with our friend Coleen's friends in New Mill, close to Penzance. Coffee at 10:00. What a treat we had in store. Phil Budden and Melissa Hardie. Phil is a retired dentist and Melissa, a former specialized nurse, turned writer (University PHD)/editor/visionary. They are both supporters of the arts. Their home reminds me of the famous Charleston home of Bloomsbury fame. Art everywhere...not knickknacks but good work. All the paintings were really of such good caliber. Little pieces of art placed on tables, mosaic tables, painted tiles here and there on the wall. Fabric of different patterns scattered about on sofas, chairs...a tapestry making it's way along a rounded wall. Mostly local artists are represented and some pieces from travels. Their home, THE OLD POST OFFICE, has been a labour of love, added to...adding to a stone rectangle making an L-shape which forms an outer glass-walled sitting room looking out onto the garden and the small stone library and the little summer house. The library is called the Jamieson Library and houses many books on shelves made by Phil. Melissa has pulled some of these books together...the latest a thick art-filled history on Cornish artists...which she gifted us with. They both kept gifting us...coffee and freshly made brownies...and then dinner of tamale pie, salad, old good wine, and home-made apple pie!...and then breakfast of poached eggs on toast and thick slices of back bacon along with a few cups of really good coffee. Ah, but it doesn't end there, they entertained us with stories of which they had plenty as they are both such interesting people. Oh yes, another gift of hot showers! Others in their family are five fluffy cats and a resident red fox who comes for his nightly meal (if the hedgehog doesn't get it first!). We left there

with two books in hand, a jar of marmalade and 3 CDs that had been copied for us. How generous, to two strangers who had come to say hello for a few hours. Two more friends to add to our growing list! Everone should spend a year or two meeting new people.

Sometime between breakfast and dinner David and I went into Penzance because we had heard there was a good art museum. It is an art and history museum and of course Melissa is closely associated with it. The Penlee House. Lovely memorial gardens, children's playground and outdoor cafe attached. It was a very good experience. The current exhibit was about Brittany...about the Bretons. Of course they are closely connected to this pennisula which points south to the

Brittany coast, fishing being a common occupation. The upper floor exhibit was a collection of permanent Cornish painters. All inspiring to me. I bought a small illustrated book about the footpaths, sacred places, animals, dwelling clusters, ruins of tin/iron mines and scenes of Cornwall. Handwritten comments and quick watercolor sketches. It will be such a good reminder of our time here.

This morning, after our time with Phil and Melissa, we drove to Falmouth, a larger city. Its buildings and gardens reminded me of Vancouver, BC. I can see how much of what I grew up with was brought by the immigrants from Great Britain. We went specifically to see the National Maritime Museum. Quite a new building really fitting the nautical focus. I was particularily drawn to a project being carried through from April through September. A talented shipright is leading up the building of an early traditional wooden boat using only early tools that have been found in Cornwall. They were chipping away at a log, much like we see our native people building canoes with an adz. Bronze, then iron tools like ax heads attached to wood handles. Quite a complicated process of getting metal out of ore to melt and put into a carved wood mold. The earliest of people were inventive. The other boats I was drawn to were the curaghs used to travel the rivers. Round boats with one paddle. All people on the rivers owned one to get supplies and take goods out to markets for trade. I remember reading once that these boat types were found near rivers on the American continent...and many of the people using them had red hair....Indian? Scots? The human race has been working hard to improve things and get somewhere....I wonder where that will be?!

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> A sign for “DUMPY BAGS” to collect garbage in.

> There are cows in the fields that are black, then white, then black, equally distributed black nose and shoulders/legs...white mid-section … black tail-end. Quite striking.

> Two more town names... Gweek and Stickelpath

UK ... from Dover through Devon

April 30

What are we doing in the UK? We are trying to find our English legs (the ones with webbed feet) as we were not at all ready to be here...the plan was for a year from now. So, we had some challenges and had to make a hard choice. We really should be meeting Donna and Gary (niece and nephew) in Assisi, Italy, in a few days. As we traveled we began to hear stories around the Schengen treaty, members of the EU who also belong to an open border policy between them. The outer member countries have to police their outer borders for anyone coming in illegally. We ran into a couple whose American parents were doing the same thing as we are and they were lectured about not following the rules and fined 450 euros and told that they could be deported. This past week the Spanish government announced that they would be bringing back their patrolled borders between France and Spain....so we went to the consulate in Valencia to check on all these rumors. They advised us....”You can keep going as you are and maybe you won't get caught...it is possible, or you can stay legal and go to a non-schengen participating country and come back to the EU countries after 3 months...for another 90 days. Any country has the right to refuse you entry, to deport or fine you...it just depends on the officer who is processing you. Also, your car insurance will not be valid if you are here longer than 90 days.” The decision to leave Gary and Donna in the lurch...with a planned vacation around us...was very difficult. And we had just told Matt and Heather (niece and nephew) that we would stay in their Amsterdam apartment for the month of June while they keep another opportunity in another Dutch town. But we had to leave quickly with only 3 days to get out of the EU...we were on our 87^th day. We made tracks across Spain and France and caught the ferry, 99 pounds, from Calais to Dover's white cliffs. It may sound to you that we did not do our homework before coming but we spent hours and hours on it and came to the conclusion that the rules were not being enforced. So hear we are. We spent the day going though our notes on the UK...so far England, Scotland and Wales. Before we left Washington, we stored all of these in an accordion file according to country. So we have notes from everyone or magazine articles to sift through and record on a map. Tonight we feel like we are ready to go...and wish that Donna and Gary could be with us here.

On April 28^th, in the afternoon, we decided to head west along the lower coast, an area that I had never seen before. First stop Rye. I am so excited to again be wandering though these beautiful little towns. All kept so sweetly. Good shops full of interesting things. Bakeries We spent time talking with a wine store owner and he was going to go on line and see what is up with Rolling Bay Winery on Bainbridge Island. Saw some really good art in the town gallery, much like the Gallery on Bainbridge Island. Quality artists. It was very inspiring. The urge to buy is always squelched by having no room in the van for one more thing. We picked up some sausage rolls...a favorite of mine from my Canadian youth. Ah yes, this is Jolly Old England! It is raining hard...and wind. And David is driving on the left hand side of the road for the first time. We try to work together to stay alive! The next day we drove to Brighton. A fairly large city. On a pebble beach, a pier with Ferris wheel and other rides, the Gay capital...and the most fun. King George lV built the craziest summer pavilion there. All kinds of different architectural decoration. I guess he was pretty flamboyant even to the extent of marrying a catholic widow in secret! Next to it are lovely gardens and the museum and art gallery. Again, for the second day I was inspired. The upstairs galleries had an exhibit of three contemporary painters, one being Julian Bell, the grand nephew of Virginia Wolfe's sister, Vanessa Bell...member of the exciting group of artists and writers, the Bloomsbury Group. The other two artists I particularly liked and was able to purchase a small book with some samples to remember the show by. Parking for a few hours in a down town parking lot cost us 18 pounds!

Tonight we are perched high over the emerald green rolling hills of England's country pastures. We can see the ocean. Tomorrow we head for Abbotsbury...at the bottom of this hill. Then on to the Cornwall peninsula. There is a sign in this little parking place that says...BISHOP'S LIME KILN. We will explore tomorrow as night has fallen and it looks like a dark open mouth! Sheep are just over the fence and a pheasant was squawking high up in the tree branches near us.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> Some towns we passed on the way here: Puddletown, Totpuddle, Affpuddle, Briantspuddle and Tincleton. Whomever names English towns is a genius.

> McDonald's has free wifi in the UK!!!

> We had only one day on the way through France to buy baguettes!

> Yellow rapeseed fields are in abundance.

> By Paris we noted plastic built huts with smoke coming out of tall metal pipes by the side of the freeway.

> I think the robins must be a different color in France and Spain...all a darkish color without red breasts. Jose's...do you know? We also saw the craziest looking bird pecking in the grass. Had some coloring of a woodpecker...red, black, white with a long thin bill like a sandpiper. He was striped black and white from the “waist” back. I think that was in Spain.

> It is not okay to be bossed but it is okay to boss!

The lime kiln was fenced off but there was the beginning of a public pathway there with a step to help you over the fence. We are in that part of the country where you can walk with the sheep in their pastures. We explored the church and old abbey in Abbotsbury. There is also a Swannery there...and we were told that these are not Royal Swans as most are in England...most belonging to the Queen! We went on to the picturesque fishing village of Bridport and did our laundry. The Launderettes always prove to be fun, if nothing else we meet wonderful people. This time we chatted with two bee keeper ladies. There was a gathering in the area and they were in charge of washing all the bee keepers work clothing! You really could not have guessed at that one. They were such fun and the time went by so quickly. Everyone asked if they could help me fold the duvet cover and sheets. I thought that was way beyond the call of duty... especially bee keeper's duty. So that job done, we walked the harbour and sat at a table to have cod and chips. And there was vinegar on the table for my chips! That also being a pleasant memory from my Canadian youth. Lots of salt and vinegar. It is May first today. Each day I put a sticky note with the date up on the dashboard. It is so easy to lose time. Today’s read....HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLEN!and HAPPY ANNIVERSARY VANYA and DAVE!We stayed that night on a noisy road on the top of a town called Lyme Regis...which would be quite a skate board ride down and into the sea. Very steep.

May 5

Our car has not been starting right up the past few mornings so we picked the largest close town (Exeter) and headed for a VW dealer and a tune-up. In fact we are sleeping outside their fence tonight as we have to be out of the car at 8:30 for the mechanic to start the morning engine. What a glorious sunny day we had playing in the Dartmoor National Park in Devon. Rick Steve says it is probably the most wild place left in England. Well there are no bears or wildcats. There are lovely small villages, pastures and moors. I always wanted to walk in the moors. In childhood books it sounded so scary and romantic...hills of grass, heather and broom. In the dark and mists on the moors the hounds would howl and a women would scream. But I saw a different moor today. The animals can move where they please. Oh, it is sooooo green here....like the Pacific NW it has that damp air...and a “bit” of rain! The sheep nibble at the grass and keep everything so tidy. We walked up a steep hill (a tor) leading to some rocks piled in such a way that it seemed to be a medieval fortress. Straight up and up the moor! And at the top, a boy was flying his kite. A trail biker made his way up a less steep grade, two older men were packing up their rock climbing gear...and as I sat on a stone waiting for David to take photos, I looked out and saw wild horses. No kidding, the horses can go anywhere they please and it was thrilling to watch them race across the moor together. It was so joyful. There were about 40 of them. The view all around was spectacular. We made our way back down to our van and another VW camper van had joined us. Here we got to talk to Pete and his dog Monty. What a fun chat we had. Lots of comparing stories and laughter. Pete told us about a conversation he had with a non-camper.... appalled because there was no shower in the van. Pete's reply, “You shouldn't shower everyday, it is not good for your skin!” I asked him where in England he was from. “Middle England.” I wanted to ask him if it was underground or a magic secret place, maybe where the hobbits are...Middle England. It was hard to say goodbye to him as we had no choice but to drive back here to the car dealer. So many wonderful people on this earth. We will spend more time in Dartmoor before we leave this area. There are so many medieval ruins, standing stones etc. The trails to them are marked and mapped. One could spend years here searching for it all.

THOUGHT and OBSERVATIONS:

> Some more towns along the way... Kitwhistle, Blackdown, Hawkchurch, Penny Plot, Drummerstone Cross, Offwell, Birdsmoorgate, Daisymount, and the street we are on is Bad Homburg Way.

> A sign. WARNING, HIGH KERB

>The receptionist told David that the Queen was visiting this town, Exeter, today. David said...In that case I'd better comb my hair!

> David told the mechanic....I just don't want the car to break down 500 miles from nowhere. Answer: Well that is not likely to happen in England.

>Quite often there is a sign as we are driving that reads...ON-COMING VEHICLES DRIVING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD.

> Let's describe the English... things are cared for, tidy, a sense of well-being and fair play. Keeping the old alive. Traditional. Everything is a little worn: buildings, clothing,etc., warn to a beautiful state. Hair a bit askew. Proper. Magical. Lightness of being, quirky, outdoorsy. They love their old churches. We will probably keep adding to this list.

May 5

So on Thursday, we spent the day at the car dealers while they did a tune-up and checked the electricity in the camper end of the car. (We think we fried wires or something early on by plugging 110 volts into 220 volts with an adapter.) They could not help us with the electricity so gave us the name of a company that could about 20 minutes down the road. So Friday we consulted with them. They seem to know their stuff and at first told us that they couldn't see us for 3 weeks, but that soon changed, I think because we are travelers. So Tuesday we have an appointment. It is a blessing in disguise...it has stopped our forward motion and landed us in the lovely town of Bovey Tracey with lots to do. We are parked in a quiet parking lot next to the river flowing fast (lots of rain) through town. Yesterday we walked the main street and the local park. Also we went to the local barber and had our hairs cut. That was fun and very cheap. $15 for both of us, mine a bit more expensive as he was trying to make it more “like a ladies hair cut”. And he did a great job...along with a fun chat. He himself had a thin little orange beard-line from mouth to chin. His wife cuts his hair, almost shaved. He rides his motorcycle to work everyday, about 25 minutes from a beach town. These roads are best for motorcycles and Smart Cars.

Last evening we decided to go for another stroll in the opposite direction. From the parking lot over a bridge in the trees into another parking lot and we found the Devon Guild of Craftsmen.... opening of a large exhibit. Wow! There was not a bad piece of art in there. Luscious! Fun bright colored pottery, jewelry with a different twist, prints...so well done. It went on and on and so did we with some white wine in our hands. We chose a small wooden flat piece with humor about it.... simply portraying an elderly English woman. We have begun to choose art that we can Velcro up on the van walls. It is out of the way, doesn't take any needed space and provides us with reminders of where we have been...and just generally adds a warm and happy atmosphere. As we paid for it we talked with a potter saleslady. She said that it takes 6 months for the artists to get admitted and accepted and then they are in for life. The artists actually pay to be part of it as the guild makes sure that their work gets shown often in a few venues. It was a treat to stumble into this.

This morning, David cooked up pancakes and eggs...very fresh eggs. Easy to find here. Then we went to the Saturday morning market, small but good offerings. We picked up more eggs, sausage rolls with prunes and apricots baked into the mix (haven't tried them yet). And a beef pastie. Oh, and a Scottish egg...hard boiled egg with meat around it with pastry crumbs around all that and deep fried. That will be a new taste for David. Also we bought fair trade granola and coffee. That done we walked a block to watch the Morris Dancers. What great fun that is. I was told that you can find these dancers around Seattle (and I am sure Vancouver). There were 3 sets of dancers...all from different local areas and dressed in their own particular costumes. Some pretty mild but all with bells just below the knees. The black-face, black-costumes were the splashiest! Black pants for the men, with the bell garters...and black tights or sexy patterned black nylons (with runs in them) and boots on the ladies....with garters and colored streamers. The coats were supposed to resemble tatters and they did but with a wonderful flair. Mostly black ribbons of fabric with other colors mixed in subtly. And the hats....the men in top hats with feathers and ribbons and the women either in the same or others lavishly decorated. The musicians wore the same fare and played drums and other percussion instruments along with little squeeze-box accordions and violins. All the dancers used sticks as part of the dance and the musical percussion beat. (We had seen similar in the Basque area youth dances.) Of course we asked how this started and it has been going on for at least a thousand years. And of course the Basques would have similar, all being linked as Celts at one time. And there is the addition of the Moors in Spain that also added a flavor of their own dance to the mix. Two stories I heard from the black-faced group. 1) They were from the border of England and Wales. Poor miners (black faces) would do this entertaining as a way to beg for money 2) Cromwell banned the Morris Dancing because of the begging...so the dancers started blackening their faces so they would not be recognized. The dancing group that sort of took us under their wing... broke a stick while dancing (they are brutal with them!) so I got the end of that stick with the name and date printed on it (It will go up on our art walls). Also we had our pictures taken, me with a crazy dance hat and David with the white handkerchiefs (Hanky Pankies) they wear and wave. This tradition starts off the summer every year on May Day where the groups climb a tor and dance at sunrise. Yes, it is “thin” here. The magic is here. Mysterious and exciting.

We are back home in the van at this time and can hear the dancing music flair up intermittently all over town. Maybe a little later we will go to have a Devon “Cream Tea”. A pot of tea and a couple of scones served with jam and clotted cream, just like we do at the Westminster church teas.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> We went to a phone store to buy an English sim /chip for it. The salesgirl remarked in our conversation that she heard that Americans thought the English had bad teeth and small refrigerators. She hoped that she did not fall into that category!

> The barber said that he thought that Americans were more positive than the English...not afraid to do things out of the box...not afraid to try something new. ??

> When something happens in your plans and you are forced to let go of them, such good things can happen in their place.

> The English faces are very different than American faces....and Canadian faces fall somewhere in between.

May 6

To the Methodist church next door this morning. Lovely church, small and welcoming. Nearly filled to the brim. Rev. Kevin was really very good. Low key and easy to catch the message. We enjoyed communion also. Knelt at the rail at front to receive it. There is something about kneeling that brings another dimension to it. More serious. A deeper experience I think. The hymns were all familiar tunes but different but good words. After of course, we went to coffee and chatted with folks. One couple was almost ready to leave for Vancouver to begin a “caravan” trek with others from the UK. They will end up in Lake Louise etc. We found ourselves sitting at the only table that had not been put away...talking with Kevin about the Methodist church. Such a nice experience. I wanted David to experience a Sunday dinner of Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, potatoes, vegetables and of course and lots of gravy. I went to ask one of the women where she suggest we go and before we knew it we were on our way in their car to The Rock, an inn they go to every Sunday after church as their guests. Christine and Bob Hough. Not How that rhymes with cow, not Hue that rhymes with Due....but Huff that rhymes with Tough....well that was sort of how Bob explained it! We couldn't have spent a nicer day with nicer people. Both had lost their spouses and independently decided to do something they always wanted and met while learning to fly. So both are pilots and very interesting people with a wonderful sense of humor. Dinner was everything I remember my mother making us in Canada. We had sherry, then wine, then dessert and coffee. So Christine asked us what we were going to do the rest of the afternoon. “Go for another walk on the moors.” So we all went for a walk to see some stones that a person had written/carved the Ten Commandments on. He lived in a tent while he did this and his motive was to get into Heaven. The moor is soft and spongy to walk on (where it is not muddy) and Christine took her heeled church shoes off and walked in bare feet. I think this lady is generally a trooper. She certainly could be my friend forever. And David and Bob talked and discussed something while we walked. And then we were invited home to tea. What a view they have, the large back English garden with a couple of green houses and three other out-buildings/garden sheds...a small swimming pool and beautiful plantings...and in the mid ground forest and a hill of green pasture where horses were grazing. In the distance a small town. It really was hard to say goodbye. Maybe we will come through this way again. And maybe they will visit us in Washington state. They travel a lot so it could happen. We have spent the evening snacking, talking, playing cards and now David is reading as I type. Tomorrow we will do some of the things that Christine and Bob told us about.

May 11^th

We did all those things that Christine and Bob suggested.

1) Buckfast Abbey...It was founded about 1000 years ago. Can't quite get that sorted in my mind. 1000 years? It was closed after 500 years by Henry Vlll and then in the late 1800s monks returned and rebuilt it. It is quite a little village with lovely gardens and sculptures in many places. The monks are dedicated to leading a life of prayer, worship work and hospitality. They make crafts themselves (wood products, honey, breads, fudge etc.)which are sold to help with expenses. There is a Methodist chapel in the middle of the area. I don't understand how it got there. Requires more research which I will probably not do. The abbey is known for the wine it produces. It is a tonic wine that has medicinal properties....doesn't all wine? Anyway, we thought we'd pass on purchasing the wine.

2) The House of Marbles...Well, it seemed like a silly place to go but locals kept saying we would enjoy it. And we did! It started as a pottery and still has the huge kilns on display and some of the things it made. Lovely old plates/dishes with those sweet nostalgic designs. It also manufactured games which were fun to see the progression over the years. We have moved away from sweetness and innocents in that category also! It is now a glass making studio and makes many objects besides marbles...vases, glass figurines, wine glasses etc. and we could watch the glass-blower work from a balcony above. But the most fun of all was watching the several marble mazes....all made by one man. Do you know what I mean by “marble mazes”? Structures built with metal wire, in this case, that provide paths for marbles to find their way to the bottom. One of them was huge, covering a large staircase wall. So many different actions going on that you wanted to follow each one. So that was the House of Marbles!

3) A very large store built like a castle but with lots of cheap stuff inside. We went to find Velcro and did....and back out again quickly. It was sort of too American to be appreciated by us!

The next day, May 9^th, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATTwe took a wonderful steam train ride from Paignton station to Kingswear then on a foot ferry over the river Dart to Dartmouth. David is a nut when it comes to trains. As a young boy he would stand at a station and watch each train, keeping track of all the numbers. He became friends with the engineers and would go with them to oil the parts. He really didn't know how deeply it had impacted him until this ride. He was a kid again only this time he had a camera. He says the engines are so beautiful compared to the American steam engines. Handsomely made. It was pretty exciting to see the steam puff and rise around the engine when it started. And then it pulled out so quietly. Our seats were the old high backed with faded upholstery. I think there were about six cars. So we puff puffed to our destination which was only about 45 minutes of dreaming of another time. We arrived at a fishing port. Kingswear on one steep sided hill and Dartmouth on the other. Lots and lots of boats in this river harbour. Houses lining the streets from bottom to top, all different colours...mostly pastels, some red, blue, green. The day was so typical of a port like this...at least it seemed to me. Misty and rainy. I wondered if my father had ever made it into this port during his seafaring career. Merchant Marines and Canadian Navy. I did learn that many of the D Day Landing boats left from this harbour. The rain kept us from exploring. Instead we enjoyed fish and chips in a cozy little cafe on the water front and had a long conversation with our waitress who, with her husband and two other couples, goes to Canada or the States every year.

In our rides through the countryside we find ourselves in some awesome places for a picnic lunch. Let me tell you about one. We were perched high above hedged fields of sheep, horses, or planted in another shade of green in strips between the brown, others just open green fields others brown and furrowed ready for seed. These fields are topped by a deciduous forest and dip down to a stream, bushes and trees and some houses and out-buildings nestled in snugly...then up again more fields rise, separated by lines of trees. From that stream and hollow below another field rises to us and it is filled with sleepy sheep taking naps with their new lambs. Quails and pheasants happily make their way among all this. Doves fly from tree to house top. A 12^th Century stone church with tower cuts into one sloped field. We are awed by it all. Sometimes this beauty is almost too much to take in. We heat up soup with fresh chicken, mushrooms and onions and add bread and cheese and enjoy this while breezes blow clouds across the sky, making moving shadows to tempt David into catching another photo. Beside us a huge chestnut tree in bloom adds to this scene. Dogs bark. Some trucks and cars wind through the roads up hill, down dale. It is the stuff of fairy tales, hobbits and rabbit warren communities. Pink, white and yellow wild flowers grow out of the lower part of hedges. Country stone or brick homes with “cute” chimney toppers. As we left our lunch spot, along another one of those hedged (10 feet tall) roads we came around the corner to find a car coming at us...David swerved to the right instinctively...and we all laughed. Of course we don't look English with our wheel on the left side and Washington license plates!

So this is Devon.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> Robins are not the same here. Can you believe that? They have a red breast but are quite tiny and not shaped the same as ours! They have a wonderful loud song but different from ours.

> Our electrical problem is fixed. The slow starting in the morning only happens when it rains. This is now the theory of the mechanic but we are having a few things replaced anyway. I believe the mechanic...it was also my diagnosis.