Poetry in motion

My friend P  suggested we do a poem game, using the same list of randomly generated words.  This is what I wrote from the train, en route from Bath to Brixham.. Since I couldn't take reasonable pictures, it was nice to have words to play with.



The words are:
Copper, explain, ill-fated, truck, neat, unite, branch, educated tenuous, hum, decisive, notice

En route

Golden green fields slide past,
Dotted with honey-white bits of wool,
Severed neatly by hedges, rough and decisive.
They stitch the grass-carpeted pastures together,
Holding them like so many crazy patchworks in a rumpled quilt.

No mountains loom here,
No tumbling brown burns
Dance towards larger stages.
The waters have been tamed and educated,
Schooled and pooled to reflect ancient tree branches,
Tenuous and wavering,
Upside down and magical.

Train wheels hum,
Not the traditional clackety-clang-clack-clack,
But a rumbling and a whine, united.
This is a modern carriage, with modern sounds.

A truck, rusting and abandoned with its ill-fated fellows,
Glows in the tip, flashing in the window.
Strong, ruined and industrial,
It attracts scant notice.
Eyes slide past,
Seeking again that tame golden green,
No need to explain why.

The ball of copper slides behind grey cotton batting.
It turns the edges a white lemon-yellow
And the green quilted fields match the grey quilted sky.
The blue black rectangles reflect inward,
Abandoning the greying landscape
As the train slows into a final stop.

"This is a proper cliff"

I am walking directly into a bright westering sun which has the effect of dimming my vision.  I approach silhouettes with glowing outlines, the details shadowed.  People carry plastic bags that glow with an eerie transparent white.  And, on the path ahead of me, I see a male figure on his hands and knees, facing into the dense hedge that borders the street side of the path.  A bulky female figure leans against the fence post on the other side of the path, watching but not saying anything. I hear a tenor voice;  it seems to be saying "Bramble....BRAMBLE!"  I wonder:  is he talking about the hedge, or to it?  As I draw level with him, I  see that he has thick white hair, and he is wearing a burnt-orange corduroy shirt with rough pants and shoes.  I look where he is looking.  There is nothing but thickly entwined stickery branches and leaves, but he says again, "Bramble!"  Then he says, "He's moved.  Cheeky thing," and the woman says, "Where is he?"  She doesn't move though.

Late afternoon is the time for walks, and 90 percent of the walkers are attached to dogs. So, I'm assuming that these folks are dealing with a dog in hiding.  It solidifies my satisfaction:  I don't have to walk a dog right now.  I can go outside on my own terms and not worry about losing someones beloved fur babies.  While I love the companionship of a dog, it is restful to be on my own.  I've just completed a 4-hour loop, where a dog would have been in the way, even in this dog-friendly country.  First I walked south down Rea Barn Road. It's a very steep street, and I was not looking forward to the return trip, so I decided to try for a  circuit.  At the bottom of the street, I turned right into the town and found the pedestrian mall leading to the harbor.  It was lined with coffee shops, green grocers, butchers, and thrift shops (the British call them "charity shops.")  Where the mall empties into the harbor, I found Simply Fish, the bistro that my host had recommended.  I'd been wracking my brains trying to remember the name, but the visual solved it for me.

I stopped in, thinking to get take away and watch the harbor while I ate.  They directed me to their take-out shop, two doors down, but when I got there I saw the hand-lettered sign on the cash register:  "Sorry, cash only."  I've been out of cash for weeks now, depending on my credit card and the largess of hosts, with the occasional handout from the cousins (they're keeping track I hope).  So, I returned to the bistro and snagged an outdoor table where I could listen to the gulls and enjoy the unseasonably warm weather.  I had Brixham plaice, grilled with leeks and garlic butter, and double fried chips that were yellow, crisp, and light.  The wine came from nearby Lyme, and was a citrus blast that went very well with the fish.  Although I was comfortably full, I decided to go for dessert, which was a mouth-watering lemon posset (a sort of mousse) garnished with 3 raspberries and a mysterious small orange fruit  that looked like a tiny tomato but had an unfamiliar tart fruity taste.  It was attached to thick dried leaves. (Later, a Facebook friend identified it as a Golden Berry.)  I believe it contributed to the bright orange syrup swirled on top. There were also three sugar crusted butter cookies, crisp and melting on the tongue.

I was quite happy.

The cook asked me how I liked the meal, and we got into a conversation about his recent 27-day trip on the West Coast.  Although I said the UK was a great place for traveling, he liked the sheer size of the U.S., not to mention "the nature!  I was swimming and an otter came and brushed up against me.  AN OTTER!  and everyone was, like, oh yeah, it's an otter."  He was 20-something, with rough flyaway blonde hair and big holes in his ears, but no plugs.  I wondered if the restaurant forbade them.

They treated me to some white chocolate, and I walked to the harbor.  There were two memorials to William of Orange, who apparently came ashore at Brixham before going up to London to take over the kingship.  Brixham's other claim to fame is the invention of the trawler, but apparently the big trawling days are over.  My host has a fishing boat, but most folks here work in the tourist industry now, I think.  The harbor was full of tourists.  Many were family groups and most were lined up along the harbor wall, crabbing.  A gent showed me the process:  fill a small mesh bag with bacon or squid and put it in the bottom of a net bag.  Drop the bag into the water and wait.  Then pull up the net, and voila!  There are small brown-orange crabs scuttling around the bottom of the bag.  My new friend said that they'd pulled out 50 crabs and were through for the day.  I asked if he'd be cooking them for dinner and he said, no, they were throwing them back: it was just sport fishing, and besides, crabs from the harbor would be polluted with oil and other gunk in the water.

I walked around the harbor and started climbing the hill to Berry Head Nature Reserve.  Deeno had driven me up on my previous visit to Brixham, but I found the coast foot path, which wound through a small wood until I reached the cliff top and the north Napoleonic fort.  I had seen the south fort the previous afternoon.  This one had more structures, including a very short lighthouse and a powder magazine.  Just outside was a huge circular rock-lined space, with shallow pools of water at the bottom.  I saw people walking down the a path on the other side of the space, shouting "echo! echo!"  I deduced it was an old quarry.

I circled the grass-covered walls, looking out at the sailboat with orange sails that had seemed to follow me along the coast. On the seaward side, there were no walls, only cliff edges.  I approached cautiously, remembering that cliffs can be undercut, but also thinking that the people in charge would have put up a fence if there was a danger of that.  A nearby father was not so trusting:  as his young son walked to the edge, he said, "Careful!  Don't go any further, this is a proper cliff."

As I left the fort, two police cars, lights flashing, came over the cattle grid and into the enclosure.  I paused, wondering what was happening. Everyone had seemed serene, walking dogs, exploring, pointing out to sea, sitting on benches, talking quietly.  The police approached a man and a woman who pointed to the nearby north-facing wall.  Everyone walked to the wall, standing on a bench and looking over, walking along the cliff edge, looking over again.  I decided it wasn't my business, and I'd look it up later, and then walked towards the south fort car park and the footpath home.  I saw another police car in that car park and asked if there was something wrong.  They said, nothing to worry about, and then admitted that there was a woman on the cliff edge and they were trying to get her back on the proper side of the fence.  I said, "so she's only a danger to herself" and they agreed that was the case.  I said, "it's nice that people cared about her."  They nodded and I left, my curiosity satisfied.  A quarter mile later, by the caravan park, I was passed by an ambulance with flashing lights.

I hope she's okay.  It was indeed a proper cliff.

"I don't want to see you again"

Autumn is a lovely season for slow travel.  The colors and textures are changing hourly, and the roads are emptying out as people return to work and school.  The rains arrive just as you are tired of moving about, enticing you to firesides, books, tv, or laptops.  The air can be golden and hazy, or crisp and breezy. Here in Devon, the bracken starts dying back, turning the hillsides a purple-brown and exposing layers of rock.  While the tracks are muddy, they lure you into the moors, with the promise of Neolithic stones, mossy walls, tumbling brown streams, and galloping ponies. 

One would expect I'd be spending every possible moment exploring, instead of  welcoming the rains as an excuse for staying indoors.  I could, in fact, probably find even more beauties in the rain. Weather is no excuse for sloth.  As B's Tante Helga said, "Es gibt kein falsch Wetters, nur falsch Kleidung." 

However, there is more to it than sloth or a  lack of wellies and rain jackets.  Driving on the moors has been a challenge.  The roads are narrow, often one-lane, with thick sticky hedges and walls lining the verge.  In many cases the roads are also steep and winding, and pull outs for oncoming traffic are nominal.  Locals and tourists vie for the right of way, which is not always obvious.  But no one wants to back up a winding, hedge-lined lane, even those who are adept at it.  And in my case I am not adept, even with automatic transmission and the left-hand drive of my country.  Here with my loaner car, I find myself killing the engine as I hastily pull into laybys, and often I end up having to start up on hills, which in my case means riding the clutch and rolling backwards into hedges, killing the engine again.  When there is no layby, the situation can be humiliating. One young woman zoomed up in her Land Rover and stopped bonnet-to-bonnet, mutely insisting that I do the honors.  She watched my inglorious performance for several minutes before bowing to the inevitable and swiftly and competently backing to her pull-out (which was actually closer than mine.)

At least there are few ditches to entrap the tires. But it can be frustrating to have to focus on the navigation, when every hilltop shows a lovely view, and amazing trees are begging for photography, and ruined barns or houses with thatched roofs and red climbing ivy scream their picturesqueness. And yet there is absolutely no place to stop and absorb.   I've found myself promising to return without the dogs and locate a public footpath.   But that becomes increasingly unlikely, as my driving angst increases.

There have been a few unpleasant encounters, which have added to my trepidation.  Once, on a steep hill, I was following two cyclists, being followed in turn by two cars.  There was no layby, and a bus was approaching.  I could tell that I was going to kill the engine if I shifted down, so in a panic I decided to squeeze between the cyclists and the oncoming bus.  Amazingly, no one was hit, but as I sat breathing deeply and calming the dogs, parked in a layby at the top of the hill, the cyclists passed and shouted "A little more room next time."  I was grateful for the British understatement. 

Another Brit was not so kind:  as I exercised my right of way down a  hilly Tavistock street, the driver waiting behind the row of parked cars in his lane shouted "Fuck You!" as I passed. I thought about this encounter for days, double-checking that I had done nothing wrong.  Finally I remembered that he'd flashed his lights at me as he pulled up, apparently requesting the right of way; but I was already committed in any case.

Usually people are kinder on the moor, I think.  They get that people have to drive slowly, watching for sheep lying in the road or cows walking across or even a gaggle of geese. While sometimes impatient with tourists, locals accept the reality of them.  Towns are another matter.  There are more places where a stranger can go wrong:  roundabouts with unclear (to me) signage, construction, and pedestrians (worse than sheep any day.)  My Waterloo took place in a construction zone in Paignton.  I was in a queue, inching up a steep incline, stopping at intervals.  At the final stop before the top, I observed the car behind me, close to my bumper.  So, I already knew I was in trouble, as the roll back was bound to happen.  When the light changed, I clutched, shifted out of neutral to first, took my foot off the brake and gave gas while releasing the clutch.  And rolled backwards, crashing into the car and killing the engine.  The light changed, and I got out to inspect the damage.  The driver behind was a short, spare man with cropped grey-white hair, glasses, and an impatient expression.  He said the license plate was cracked, and I asked what we should do, and he said in clipped tones to pull out up ahead.

So, I got the car in gear and drove, looking for a pull out.  The first possible place was a bus stop. I chose that, but he drove on by.  I decided that he was not going to stop after all, and continued on my way.  I was flustered, though, and missed my turn to Plymouth at the next roundabout.  I took another turn, to get back, and found myself on one of those darn narrow roads with no pullout.  When I finally found one, I discovered that he'd been following me.  I got out and said, "I couldn't find you."  He said, "I wasn't going to stop at the bus stop," and then he proceeded to berate me:  "You are driving a dangerous car.  What if there had been children?"  I thought, the car isn't the danger, the driver is, but said, "The hill was very steep."  "It wasn't so steep," he retorted shortly, "the clutch is burned out, I can smell it."  I was nonplussed:  there was no damage to the cars, and no smell of burning, so I didn't know what he wanted from me.  He kept saying "What will happen if there are children present?"  I said that the car was a loaner and I was far from its home, so I didn't know what I could do.  I didn't say that children were not likely to be present on a main road with construction in process.  He finally returned to his car.  Looking at me over the open door he said, "Are you Canadian?"  I should have said yes, to spare the U.S. reputation another blot, but I confessed to being a Yank.  He said shortly, "I'm leaving.  I never want to see you again."

The feeling was mutual.

I needed to turn around to retrieve my route, but I didn't want to follow him, so I decided to continue onward. Big mistake.  There was more construction and a queue and absolutely no way to turn around.  When I finally got clear and alone on the road, I found myself entering a village with houses up against the road, sharp turns, and no walkways.  And then back out to the moor road, then into another village.  It seemed I would never get out of the maze, but eventually I found a village where there was room to pull over AND a woman willing to look at my map and direct me home.  I went through Totnes over towards Plymouth, turning towards Yelverton 12 miles short of Plymouth.  I reached Tavistock in the light of a golden late autumn day and crashed.  Since then it's been raining, and I haven't touched the car.  I may never drive again.

September Notes and Texts

9/1
An afternoon at the Social Security Administration, trying to get the 2014 contributions recorded: task not completed. Aaaargh #bureacracy #ihatethemall
They promise I can mail the docs after all. Even gave me an envelope. We shall see.

Instead of wasting
3 hours in a plastic chair
I make art. Sorta.

Eve at WEC, visiting Walter after an excellent meal

A plate of pretty
A stair corner of awesome
A bit of gobsmack

9/2
Breakfast at San Marcos with E! Warm. Monsoons in the north. Now back in ABQ w G at his house sit. I'm going out to the pool.

New jamberry nail wraps: these are called London Bound. I couldn't resist

Bailey, Dog #2 of 2, snuggling

Pix taken for Esther

9/3/17

P shared this with me, so I'm paying it forward!

Couldn't sleep last night, so sleepy today.  Had a nice potluck at P's home in the mountains and met G's new girlfriend.  They are sweet together.  She gave me a guardian angel pin for my travels.  Tomorrow I finish packing, Tues I fly out.

9/4/17
G is pet-sitting in a nice house on the west side of ABQ.  I'm taking a break from packing

 

Angst and avoidance
From repacking bags: like me
They are overweight.

Ash falls on my friends
While I play with a sketch app:
Updating Nero.
9/5/17
Texting on my trip:

• No my passport was declined
• I didn't get the details. something about the computer thinking that I was from another country
• Personally I think it's all the anti-trump petitions I've been signing 

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away

• They seem to have figured it out. However I only have a ticket to Dallas. I need to get another boarding pass at the gate; the luggage, however, is booked all the way through😀
• I have a couple hours so I'm drinking coffee and eating the leftover molasses bread before I brave the security gate line

Got it down to 49.3 lbs.
I took out some clothes and at the airport
I pulled out binoculars keyboard and jewelry
 so I'll carry them on.  Was 1.7 pounds over 50

More problems at Dallas, but at least I got my stuff mailed!  A traveling companion took care of it for me while I fussed at the gate.

• At Dallas, getting ready to board.  The big bag was checked in ABQ.  It weighed in at 1.7 lbs over the 50 lb limit, so I had to take out a few items.  I had plenty of time to do that, as my passport was denied for no good reason.  The computers said I was not a USA citizen.  Huh.  Then at Dallas they couldn't find my seat. Hopefully I won't be held up at Heathrow:  I have a tight connection for the train to Plymouth.  It'll be awhile before I can text again; I think I need a SIM card.  I'll try to send email on 9/6, but I'm 6-8 hours ahead of you. So I'm not sure when you'll get these
• On the Great West RR, 2 hours out from Plymouth.  I met Erik (who had my ticket) with 6 minutes to spare!  Tired, didn't sleep much on the plane.
• Saw the White Horse!
  

9/6/17
Mind the gap! On the Heathrow Express. Got questioned strongly about money, contacts, and return ticket, because of the 3 month stay. But otherwise, a smooth entry. Looks like I can only text to iPhones with this SIM card. Or through FB messenger.
So, email it is! 

Dirty with echoes
But oh I so love this place.
Paddington Station

The view from my upstairs bedroom.  It's lovely here, although there are rumors of rain to come.

9/7/17
My host drove me around a bit: she leaves tomorrow for the weekend.  She gets the credit for finding me magical spots! .

She sat in the lay by nursing a turned ankle while I climbed the tor to look down on Neolithic village, Grimpound (a circle of stones surrounding grass covered stone circles, the remains of homes.)  Very steep, very windy.  Met two mean hiking the moors, which are criscrossed with paths

At a tea/craft room I received a nice lecture about the distinction between Dartmoor Hill Ponies and the Dartmoor Pony. It's a thing.

9/8/2017

Today my host took me on a test run of the car she is loaning me. She was a patient and calm instructress, and she hasn't said that I should NOT drive, but...
She took off around 6 and the dog with separation anxiety is cuddled up with me.  Occasionally he gets up and looks for her and howls, and then I go pick him up and he settles back into sleep.  sigh.  The others seem fine.
This home is a bit chaotic, but I like the hostess and her dogs, and it's comfortable. And, she is providing me with food as well as the car, which is more than other places do. And the area itself is quite amazing. Trees growing out of walls, heather-purpled hills, curvy lanes, stone cottages, bracken-browned tumbling water. Even though it's raining, it's wonderful.

Today's pic, however....

Stone architecture,
Winding lanes, green hills; and yet
I photograph slugs.

9/9
A busker singing
"The Raggle-Taggle Gypsy"
A market sighting

A visit to
The subscription library:
Nice old blokes and books.

Art on the Viaduct trail

The old subscription library:  they did daily meteorological readings, using the ceiling compass, not realizing that the instruments placed on the roof were influenced by the surrounding buildings.

Bingeing on British TV: "Tattoo fixers on holiday". Now that's reality TV I must see.

There is a show called
The Ghost Within My Child. Yes.
I am not kidding.

Among the playthings
A long stuffed creature she calls
A Bundle of Yuck.

9/10/17
A Sunday Morning
Listening to the bells while
Online tutoring

Sunset walk along the Tavy:  a leaf cleaner and a Devon fisherman

There's a story behind this, but what?

9/11/17
They aren't Balthazar, but these ponies are adorable!  They hang out at the golf course above Tavistock.

 Took the dogs up Brentor in a really strong wind.  It's a short drive from home, and we made it with only a few exciting moments. Some sun breaks.  Now I have a headache:  probably from the cold and the wind.

 9/12/17

I glance up and see
The white horse running swiftly
Along the hillside 

E and I the the long walk around the cemetery to pick up V:  we see foxes. 

Can you see Mr. Fox?

Recap for the day:
Started with a train ride from Plymouth to Paddington and thence to the underground, where I discovered none of my credit cards work and I was out of cash. I was waved through and they called my final stop, Leyton, where Erik met me. Then a walk to pick up Violet where we saw foxes in the church yard. A family mealtime, and now to bed. Erik is sorting out some Oyster cards for me, and I'll sort out the finances tomorrow.

Erik pointed out that I would not have been so fortunate if I'd been in work clothes and spoken with a Polish accent. He's right, of course.

9/13/17
Day at the Tate Modern, Zeid exhibit courtesy of R's card.  Evensong at St Paul's.  Wine and cheese watching The Great British Bakeoff:  bread week.

 

 

9/14/17
Spent the day at home, joined my hosts at a local called Yardarm (celebrating R's 36th bday), and then enjoyed bath time.  G, we're watching The Expanse, Season 1.  E just discovered it!!!


9/15/17
Parsons Green Tube incident: I was nowhere near.

Listened to a free noontime concert at St Martin in the Fields church, visited National Portrait Gallery, just put Violet to bed: Erik and Rachel let me babysit while they went to Christies to attend a fundraiser for Eriks school. They looked smashing. Violet crashed early. 

Took me quite awhile
To suss out this window art...
Waiting for music

The portrait asserts
"These boots are made for walking."
Worst. Ear worm. Ever.

That poet John Donne
Was one very handsome man.
He wrote quite well, too.

From lunchtime concert
To sidewalk art, to portraits,
To fashion statements.

9/16/17
I'm back in Tavistock!  There was a pouring rain, with puddles, lakes, and streams in the road.  Fortunately, R did the driving.

Tomorrow I resume my house sitting duties.
Sept 17

Lydford Gorge, 3 miles of narrow sloppy trails, full of huge mossy trees, ferns and dripping rocks. A hike worthy of the Pacific NW. I get strangers to take my pic at the big viewpoints but am mainly enthralled by rocks and textures.  I take a ridiculous number of photos and love them all!  So much for bracketing.

Now watching the darts championship at Cardiff.  Because I can.


Following the hike
I watch the darts tournament:
Only in England.

She barks frenziedly
At the television ads:
Strange dogs in the room.
9/18/17

Had a cream tea at the Two Bridge Hotel.  The dogs were allowed in the bar parlor, but Pekoe (white poodle) started barking at a cocker spaniel, so away with them!

I found this place (East Dart meets West Dart) and then got lost on some really narrow windy roads. Chip (the old dog) sat in my lap, getting in the way, and I killed the engine 4 times dodging oncoming traffic and downshifting up steep hills.

A harrowing drive
Through one-lane hedge-lined moor roads:
I can't take pictures.
A good day. ;)

Took these pix from a layby, as I recovered from the scary roads and figured out where I was.  Combining standard transmission, left hand drive, and moorland roads makes Kari an unhappy camper!

I haven't gotten tired of this yet.

9/19/17
To my hostess: Today I was very sleepy, but we had a good walk at the golf course. The car is almost out of gas: where is your favorite petrol station? Is there a particular type of petrol I need to get (unleaded? 87 percent?)

Old boy Chip and I
Both wanted to doze inside.
Young pup dragged us out.

The hill ponies leave,
So we take a look around.
It's a bit smelly.

At the cricket pitch,
Modern day circle of stones
On the windy hill.

The clouds are coming in, and it looks like we have rain for the next few days.
Chip is being very cuddly, and he howled last night when I went into the bathroom. Pekoe is full of energy. Teaser got away from me at the Two Bridge parking lot and the other people in the lot laughed at her name: it's so apt!

To M and V:
If you check Facebook, you'll find several haiku and some pix for today, but mainly I've been hanging around the house. My eyes are scritchy and want to sleep, and the dogs are cuddling close. It's difficult to be productive or explore when I'm so tired.
I did do some research and writing.... as well as dozing and tutoring a bit. And the dogs are happy, so that part of my job is going well.

To G and P:
"It's just a bad ball,"
Comments the calm, quiet voice.
I'm not watching golf.
(Bowls championship)

To E:
Some personal whining

9/20 An introspective day...Spent the day tutoring and writing. It started pouring rain mid morning, so no walk for the dogs. Except Pekoe:

She frets, so we walk
Through a cold drenching rain and
Now she's crackerdog

Racing through the rooms,
Growling, shaking off water.
The others stayed home.

Are you enjoying your stay?
Yes, it’s a beautiful and interesting area of country.  I feel sorry for the dogs and other motorists, because I freak out when I meet cars on narrow lanes.  But I don’t want to leave the dogs alone for too long because they get upset...so they come along and get bounced around the car and dragged up windy tors.  I think that’s preferable.And the se rainy days are great because it’s an excuse to stay inside and read and write and vegetate.

Did you figure out what I was watching instead of golf?  Hint, it’s like curling without the ice.  

9/21
Hi! It was supposed to be rainy today, but it was instead cloudy and windy. So, I took the dogs for their walk and then, as the rain held off, took a drive. I was looking for Drake's castle, but ended up back in Princetown and thence to Merrivale. I have yet to find the ceremonial complex, but found some pretty cool views. Dartmoor is full of neolithic sites, most of which display as a tumble of rocks. And there are mossy walls that indicate a more recent habitation. It's a lovely place to walk, except when Teaser the Maltese escapes the leash and won't come back. ;(

If there’s a car park
There’s a trail to something old...
Or a training range.

9/22/17

Dog sitting triumph:
The skittish one sat in my lap
Of her own accord!

View from the window,
Not a red sky at morning
But we’re socked in now.

Rainy, so I stayed in and listened to books and etched in the really nifty book that R gave me. On HER birthday.  She's such a hobbit.

9/23/2017

Stopped by the market after walking the dogs, then after lunch drove with the dogs to Okehampton Castle. I don’t like leaving them alone but the dogs certainly cramp my style.  Fortunately a nice gent carried Chip up the hill while I carried Teaser.

Still looking for stone circles and three hares at various Dartmoor locations. 

At Tavistock's St. Eustachius Church

I really like the moors.  They have stone walls and large bare spaces filled with bracken and heather and broom. Today the ponies were running, and the sound and sight were awesome.

And the skies are almost as huge as the NM ones.  I do miss that.

Main problem is an incipient cold or headache, but the only thing I have to do is let the dogs out and feed them.  A day out in the crisp autumn air is icing on the cake for all of us.

Okehampton Castle:
The three dogs are not in sync.
I get tangled up.

9/24
Tutored for 3.5 hours. Actually, tutored for 1 hour, sat around waiting for someone to request a session. So, I did some blogging and emailing. It's rainy today, so I stayed in until 3 and then took the dogs on a short walk up the viaduct. Spent the rest of the day writing book reviews for Goodreads.com (catching up the books I read in August and September) and watching a Firefly marathon. 
from a letter to a friend:
I'm having some unexpected expenses, what with train tickets to London costing close to $70 one way. Fortunately, I haven't had to pay for the last two trips, and Erik has found me a good site for cheaper fares.
   "I'm smelling a lot of if coming off this plan." (I'm watching a Firefly marathon, and Jane just said that...seems apt!) It's hard to believe it's been 15 years since that short-lived season of wonderfulness.
   It's interesting how laid back this trip is being. I spend a lot of time hanging with the dogs and driving around, and even more time reading and writing. Not so much time tutoring, sadly. But my ability to make myself at home anywhere is coming in handy. And, I find I don't miss the stuff I've left in storage at G's. Maybe I should have him sell it all for me. ;) No, I know that eventually I'll want to find a place to settle down, and that stuff will come in handy.
  I am very much enjoying Dartmoor, but it's quite scary driving those narrow roads, especially with standard transmission. Yesterday I thought I was driving towards a main road, only to end up 4 miles later at a gate with HUGE cows on the other side and no space to turn around.
  But I managed.
  Still, I don't really have any news. I'm just hanging around. Later!

9/25
In the personal FB news: Landers-Paisley wedding:  lots of great pix over the next few days.  Sorry I missed it.
In the global FB news:  #45 attempts to deflect attention from the post-hurricane debacle in Puerto Rico (the "island in the middle of the ocean"). He focuses on NFL player protests, "taking a knee" during the anthem.  I share the Royko column about the whole concept of singing the anthem.

So wonderful to wander the moors at sunset.  Sadly, Chip fell into the stream that runs between the two stone alleys.  I had to dry him with my coat and carry him bundled up until he dried.  Poor old boy.

 Fernworthy reservoir and drive there:  I’m getting more intrepid, but when I met the Land Rover in one of these roads and the driver insisted I do the backing up, it was pretty sad.  I kept running into hedges and killing the engine.  Finally the driver gave up and backed up herself.  :)

Sadly, a photo can’t capture the green-gold light and the mossy turf covering rocky mounds and walls.

Watching Welsh TV: can’t understand a word, but it’s a bunch of muscular young men training for tug of war competition.

9/26
 Road closed until 2 pm:  the construction of the past week finally boxes me in. I take Pekoe for a walk the other direction through a second RR viaduct while I wait to take off to Brixham.

Nice little fixer upper: actually still lived in, per my host

Mystery trash from the tip under the viaduct

Moor roads followed by
Rush hour traffic and missed turns:
Doubled travel time.
    Collapsing at the English riviera for two days.

View from and of my room in Brixham, on the English Riviera.  Also of the two labs I’m sitting.  This is a trial run for a slightly longer stay end of October.  It’s an hour and a half drive from Tavistock...if you don’t dawdle over the one lane roads and 20%inclines over the moor, and if you don’t hit rush hour traffic at Paignton.  And don’t miss half the turnings.  If you DO dawdle and miss turnings, it’s a little over twice that.

But all is well, my hostess left me loads of food, and I am only here to keep them company at night:  they spend the day with her mum and someone else transports and walks them.  Quite a change from other sits.

 9/27

This housesit will be lovely.  She’s totally pampering me.  She left me chocolate! Today was rainy and I have an incipient cold, so I spent the day texting with P and listening to a long audiobook.

The dogs are sweet and self sufficient. Sweet labs and a good book:  nothing much better

9/28

Playing with pix:

I was at the South Devon coast this morning, and, after a harrowing drive, made it back to Tavistock. I may never drive again.

I leave my finds at the harbor wall.

9/29

Alive and reasonably well EOM 

9/30

Bad British TV: I'm watching container wars!  (Storage Wars on Steroids), as I wait for insomniacs to ask for my tutoring expertise.  The dogs are bored by the whole thing, but it's raining so a walk is probably not in the cards.

 

They had 3 kinds of wild Chanterelle at the weekly market.  I’ll have them with eggs for breakfast.  These were farmed, and I can’t recall the name.  They were clumped into a block that I pulled apart.  So, dinner is courtesy of the market:

I’ve been a bit puny the last few days, but since it’s been raining, that’s not a problem.
 What We Do on a rainy day.

Watching The Hobbit,
And now she’s barking at Wargs.
They’re foes beyond her