Muslims on the Moors

Muslims. On the Moors.

Not walking like everybody was, along the tarmacked path from the dam – but driving down in their cars. The men were getting out, but the veiled women were sat inside their burqua’s seemingly too frightened to get out. Or maybe it was the men who were too frightened to let them out in case fundamental tenets of Islamic faith were being contravened:

1. Womenfolk may not be permitted to be gazed upon by wild and woolly beasts.

2. Womenfolk may not be permitted to be within 10 feet of outward displays of frivolity (i.e frisbee throwing, splashing about in fast running waters with bare feet etc)

3. Womenfolk may not be permitted to walk in upwards directions in case of excessive sweat producing tendencies.

4. Removal of any items of (black) clothing – due to excessive sweat producing tendencies – is strictly forbidden.

5. Tendencies of any kind to be strictly discouraged.

6. Womenfolk may not be permitted to mix with kafirs (unbelievers) wearing sunglasses.

7. Womenfolk may not be permitted anywhere near whitey girls hanging baps out to be suckled.

8. Womenfolk to be kept well away from male bird spotters wearing binoculars.

9. Womenfolk must at all times refrain from public displays of licking or sucking (i.e ice-creams)

10. Womenfolk to avoid Staffordshire Bull Terrriers, as these nasty dogs are inclined to bite – and trained to kill – any persons dressed head to toe in black, mistaking them for blackbirds.

Must have taken the wrong turning or something, these Muslimists. Ended up on Dartmoor instead of Damascus.

Ontop of the Dam

I live on the edge of Dartmoor, but don’t know it that well. I’ve always preferred heading off to the sea.

In the last weeks I’m going up onto it more.

Yesterday i went to Shipley Bridge; then walked 2 miles up to Avon Dam.

A rare sunny Sunday afternoon meant all the world and his dog (s) were there. And a Mr Whippy ice-cream van. Young mothers with baps out feeding babs. Dedicated hikers with walking sticks. A solitary bird watching binocular man. Hippy witches. And 2 carfuls of muslims (I’ll write about them in the next post)

Cus it was Sunday. And it was warm and sunny. Not raining. Quick – lets get out and do the walking and picnicking we didn’t do all Summer, before Autumn sets in and it starts raining again.

So up and up i walked, with moors banked to the left and the right.

Most people didn’t bother going all the way up to the the dam at the top. Which is a pity cus they missed this:

Hardly a thing stirred. Nothing and nobody was around. Not a bird anywhere. A silent lagoon plonked onto the roof of Dartmoor.

I got my flask of coffee out.

The silence was palpable. I could feel the quiet, could see it. Could see silence rippling on the water in quiet bubbles. One floated by. A fragile bubble of peace, unbroken, unbreaking.

I got up and walked across the high ridge of the dam (not permitted – but hey, we’re not living in Iran)

A few people were below, but only i was up here, stood on the top of the dam

feeling aloof – inside my single bubble of peace.

Essentially that’s what Dartmoor is about: experiencing aloneness

Sometimes as loneliness, sometimes as emptiness.

Empty of self. Silent of self.

Just a quiet bubble floating on by.

Skateboarding across the Moors

Ponies weren’t the only thing up on Dartmoor last night.

As i was taking pics – who should come whizzing by but this guy

I think the red car in front was taking him up hills – then he was getting out and whooshing down.

As you can probably see the gradients on some of these hills is pretty steep, so the buzz you’d get rushing down them would be, well – quite a rush.

I liked that he was doing it. It made Dartmoor suddenly seem like a great big urban playground.

Cool, dude! Not Dartmoor National Park anymore. No – Dartmoor Skateboard Park!

So, all you “My Little Pony” fuckers standing around munchin, and pissin (sheep) and shittin (cows) – get outta my way.

I’m bringing it on down! Weeeeee!!! Way to go man!

Dartmoor Ponies

Driving across Dartmoor this evening.  I’m heading towards Dartmoor Prison to see if i can get photo’s of its grim fortress-like ugliness offset by beautiful sunsetness.

There’s about an hour of daylight left.

But i keep stopping to look at these little fellas

Yes – cute ain’t they (this is the little Shetland variety i think)

Grazing right next to the road, and sometimes on it

And they don’t get out of the way either. Which is ok if you’re going at 20 mph, and there’s full visibility.

But driving back in the dark i had to hit the brakes fast – cus looming right in front of me, ghost-like was this guy

Not at all bothering to get out the way.

Tragically, you keep hearing of ponies getting hit. Unfortunately they seem to be drawn towards the roads. Probably cus people in cars are feeding them Wotsits. Or they like to lick the salt off that the gritters put down in winter.

They’re emblematic of Dartmoor these ponies. But they’re slowly dying out.

Go to this link for info about them

Haldon Belvedere

I was driving back from Exeter.

In a forest, on top of a hill, overlooking Dartmoor – is this castle, Haldon Belvedere.

I’ve just checked the website. You could live in it for 3 nights (cost £300) It looks as fantastic inside as it does from the outside.

Just imagine living and sleeping in an enchanted fairytale white castle (Go on – won’t do any harm)

Being your very own Prince or Princess – if only for a weekend.

A dream really i know – and we all know dreams don’t really come true.

Or do they?!….. Lol

Nah – probably not.

Dream on sunshine…..

Ducking about

I went back to Stover park this evening

i mean, look at all the ducks they’ve got! Bloody Hell! (do your Jim “Royle Family” voice now)

They’ve got Tufted Ducks, and Great Crested Grebes, and Shovelers and….

Mallards…. like this little fella

Happily minding his own business (till i came along)

Splashing, quacking, floating, fluffing about…..

Sticking their bottoms up….

It’s rude that is. Rude.

“Bloody Hell!”….. Lol…

They’re gonna have to behave.

Orft i merrily go, berry-picking

I went out daintily raiding the hedges for blackberries and elderberries

Into this cute little green bucket.

Passing motorists were swerving past, giving me a wide berth.

Probably baffled and slightly alarmed at the sight of me.

I could see them on their mobys: “Odd bald bloke on country lane messing about in hedges with little green kiddie bucket”…..

“Ring the Police”

“No, ring that queer paper The Gay Times”

No, ring bloody “Housewife’s Choice”

- and ask them for a recipe for Elderberry Cordial!

Chasing the Sunset

We’d been chasing the sunset over Bulbarrow Hill.

Minute by minute it was sinking fast.

Dropping down down down

Falling off the edge of Dorset.

Done. Gone.

But it’ll return.

Always comes back.

Bit of a thrill it was.

Sunhole in the Hedge

First Georg got this pic, but she didn’t quite realise what she was seeing

So i bent down  – and clicked the sun through.

Only the sun’s not quite slotted into its hole in the hedge, doesn’t quite fit in.

George went back, bent her legs – and got the sun to sit in.

Snug as a….

It’s amazing what you get when you bend the knee.

Grace happens.

“It’s borin”

No, you’re borin.

Who is – me?

Yeah, you – the one who is lookin

And you don’t even know my name

Do you? You…..