The History and the Weather

I dragged my bum out of the house and up to the King George V Sports Centre this afternoon.  I usually go on Monday, but it was cold and rainy yesterday and I frankly didn’t want to step out of our warm, cosy penthouse flat.  Even though we were decorating!  I’ve come around and am really getting into it.  I started our bedroom today (primed over half the trim!) and am going to crash in the Forest of Dreams in the salon tonight.  Just drew the curtains, put a dimmed floor lamp on and turned our King-sized Delonghi Dragon radiator on to warm up the room.

Anyhow, as I was walking back from the gym, some Canadian tourists asked me the directions to a B & B.  I told them and they said, “Where’re you from?”.  I hadn’t even twigged they were North American!  When I said Southern California, they said, “WHAT are you doing HERE??!!”.  I gave them my best California Girl grin, cocked my head and said, “I came here for the history and the weather.”  Works every time!

The Calfornia Girl Grin (not to be confused with the West Coast Smirk)

I realise I haven’t blogged about ‘Out There’ very much recently, what with staying in and working on my bed quilt and painting our flat and eating high protein food and all.  But just before I ran into these grockles* I was walking back home and looking at the gentle, green hills around me, over and through the woodwrought hedgerows, listening to birdsong, spying a buzzard soaring overhead.  And I thought, as I have many times before, “I am so grateful to be living here, where the earth breathes all around me and my town is cradled in the Moors.”

When I was in Los Angeles, I felt like I was living in a machine.  But you can’t really say that to people you’ve just met.  I know that much about the British (and people in general).  So my witty quip about the weather and history is perfect for both locals and tourists.  Instant crossnational appreciation, non-threatening, funny, quirky, dare I say ‘British?’.  Lord knows what the British think of me, a 13-year expatriate from the USA.  One of our friends, recently, politely said that people are learning about America from me.  Big responsibility, considering that the Americans usually start out wrong-footed pretty much everywhere outside of the contiguous 50, and yes I am including Alaska & Hawaii, as well as Canada and Mexico as places where the Yanks have slipped up.  Don’t get me started folks!

Any how, here are some photos taken from various windows in our penthouse flat in the middle of a Dartmoor town.  Lots of the time, we are very happy to spend whole days and nights inside & just don’t bother going out.  We live in a nest from which we can soar,  Steve with his words and I with my fibre art and all like that.  Feels like Home.  At last.

Bird Tree, from my Studio and our Bedroom

In our kitchen on St. Patrick's Day, cooking for a dinner party.

Sheep to the South

'I came for the weather'

Our jackdaw next door neighbours working on their nest

and here’s looking back at Moretonhampstead from about a 15 minute walk out of town.

* grockle, n.,  (Southwest English dialect) a tourist, esp one from the Midlands or the North of England

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