Dark doings on Dartmoor...

Oh, how blue we were to have to leave Henry’s yesterday morning...

We were supposed to be heading to Dartmoor but felt we weren’t quite finished with Cornwall yet and so we said goodbye to Ron and Jo and headed north to Tingatel Castle... Frida caught the eye of castle’s highly tattooed maintenance man and we made a new friend before heading back down to Padstow for the most delicious grub ever... deep-fried scallops and ginger beer... Yum!

This morning, having overslept, The Boy came up with the very clever idea of ‘just not bothering to get dressed’ and so we drove across the peninsular barefoot in our pyjamas, to the Eden Project, listing to Frank Sinatra and scoffing sweets... it was dreamy!

(Look how excited The Boy was to be in Eden..!)

By early evening, we were on our way north, out of Cornwall, into Devon and across Dartmoor... the light was ridiculously beautiful as we drove across the moors and stopped to take it all in... just then we spotted some newborn Dartmoor ponies trotting about the place... they were stupidly cute.

By this time were ridiculously behind schedule, but rather proud of ourselves for negotiating the tiny byroads necessary to reach the place we planned to camp that night... just outside the brilliantly named ‘Widdecomb on the Moor.’ Frida, however, was looking pretty spectacular against the moody landscape...

But we were starving and having so far failed to find a campsite, I suggested stopping for some grub at a pub I’d heard about... the Rugglestone Inn is famous in those parts for its charm and good food... we found it, but nothing could have prepared us for the sight that presented itself as we rounded the corner to the inn...

This, apparently, is Border Morris Dancing... 

Needleless to say, as I gripped The Boy’s hand rather more tightly than was comfortable for either of us, I felt sure we would meet our end in some pagan sacrifice that night in the deep and dark recesses of Dartmoor... The look on The Boy’s face told me that he didn’t feel much more confident about the situation... Would you?

 

 

In fact we couldn’t have been more wrong... once we’d recovered from the shock, we enjoyed the most hilarious evening of singing, dancing and drinking with these crazy road-kill wearing people... they even invited us back for a hillside dancing session... (read: pagan rave)... during the next lunar eclipse... and they gave us somewhere to camp for the night... 

We didn't manage dinner in the end and survived on adrenalin, beer and whisky... I've called it a night and left The Boy out there with them, singing songs and talking about tractors...  It's cosier in the back of Frida.. and I'm fairly sure they won't murder him...

Nite Nite... (hic)

xxx