All Aboard!

There we were in solitary splendour, sitting in a 20s first class carriage, complete with the door at the end, where I could wave goodbye to the masses, just like the Queen. We were enjoying our return journey on the South Devon Railway, the volunteer-managed steam train line that runs in this area. We had imagined that we might be the only ones in our carriage when there was a great commotion behind us: "Dahling, this is perfectly mahvellous! I think when I was a gell, there were sofas but this is perfectly mahvellous!" In swept a slim woman of a certain age, bright red hair beautifully cut, clutching a very small dog. I felt she gazed upon us with distaste and carried on to the furthest end of the carriage where she installed herself with three friends, two men and a woman. We said goodbye to our dream of a Queen-like journey and settled in for some local colour. And once again, we felt like time travellers. The redhead and co. sounded as though they had been plucked from a Nancy Mitford or Evelyn Waugh novel. I searched my memory, her voice sounded familiar. Finally I remembered Joan Greenwood. This voice had the same affected, husky purring tones.
 "No one cooks in London anymore, dahling. My American friend (with a look from under her lashes down at us) thought my rosemary jelly came from Harrods." 
"Ooh, dahlng, look, a perfect English meadow. There are hardly any left anymore. People do keep planting things in them and spoiling them."
And one of her companions chimed in, seemingly channelling Sebastian Fleet:"Quite wight, dahling, it's a shame weally." I looked for a teddy bear but there was only the dog.

We had begun our journey at the Staverton station, often used as a film set it is so unspoiled. We were greeted by the station-master, a friendly fellow with a cane whose job it was to sell tickets and see to both the signal box and the closing of the level crossing gates.

We waited on the platform, admiring the plants and all the old advertising signs. In one corner you will see the luggage trolley, filled with old leather suitcases, many of them with what seemed to be original luggage tags of people long gone and forgotten. And then we heard the now familiar tooting of the train whistle as it came down the track and steamed into the station

.

We found ourselves in an old British Rail carriage, complete with plush and framed drawings of places of interest in Britain. In a great puff of steam, we chugged out of the station. And then  it all seemed familiar: the clicking of the wheels along the rails, the chuga-chuga sound of the engine, the smell of coal and as we had the window open, a few cinders flying in. I was back in time. I was eight and for several months travelled to Ottawa with my Dad every morning on the Wakefield train. It was a special time for me, having my Dad all to myself, then taking the streetcar, like a grown-up to my school in Ottawa South—ALONE!! As in those days long ago, the conductors were jolly and helpful. The difference was that the ones on the South Devon Railway are all volunteers. And what a happy bunch they are! I don't think I have ever come across a group of volunteers who are so uniformly enthusiastic about what they are doing. They all had big smiles and were always ready with a quip. But for one woman in the ticket office, they were all men so you can imagine that they were now living out their boyhood dreams of working on the railroad. Whatever the reason,  they deserve congratulations for making this experience such a pleasurable one.

We are leaving Staverton today. We will head close to the tip of England in Cornwall to stay with a friend for a few days and then north to the Cotswolds to another cottage in a very small village. We are going to miss the church bells and the train whistle as well as the beautiful countryside of Devon. It has been a relaxing and restorative two weeks.

We are not sure of how easy it will be to connect to the Internet for the next two weeks, thus this early posting. We will certainly have more adventures to report but may be a bit late in the posting of them!

Village Life

It is Sunday morning and the bells of little St. Paul's Church are pealing over the village. It is an inspiring and joyful sound. We watched the bell ringers as they practised on Thursday evening. We were impressed by their slim bodies and after a while we realized that this is very hard work—an excellent aerobic and arm workout! The bells have stopped now and I wonder how many people will be at the service after the rigours of the Garden Show yesterday. So many people worked so hard to pull it off and it was pronounced a great success by everyone, including the Canadian interlopers. We set off for the lunch, scheduled for 1 PM and arrived by 1:10 to find the tent full. Luckily, they found places for us and we sat down to roast beef, new

potatoes, salad, bread, wine and cheesecake. The people around us were very friendly and chatty, wondering about us and sharing information about their own lives. We were both struck by the difference between this experience and the one we had last year in Warkworth, Ontario when we attended the Longest Lunch (tables set all the way down the main street with a home-cooked lunch). There we couldn't pry a word out of anyone. They studiously ignored us. I wonder if this year has made us more approachable? Or do we just blunder in now and begin conversations? Anyway, it was fun and we enjoyed meeting these people, some of whom had grown up in the village. Someone sent us to meet a local teacher who had worked for years in Montreal. Now retired in Staverton, she returns to Canada every summer to go to the Stratford and Shaw Festivals (although the original Stratford is a stone's throw from here!). A long welcome speech from the chair of the organizing committee ended with his invitation to any of the judges who wished to speak. This fellow, in the most delightful of Devonian accents, then

 
regaled us with his disappointment in the shape of the 'spuds'. When we reached the display

tent, there was his note for all to see. 

Look at these spring onions (trimmed and untrimmed—2 different categories), and this Best in Show display: have you ever seen such large parsnips? We were impressed by the number of entries from young people

and from Mrs. A. Mann who seemed to be everywhere: gardening (those are her potatoes), baking, arranging flowers and winning prizes at them all. It was not

surprising that when it came time for the Honorary President

to present the prizes that she was a winner.

When they began the races, e went back in time to our own childhoods and Sunday School picnics.  43 in total, there were egg and spoon, three legged, parent and child relays, and of course the Mature Women's (which had 2 contestants) and the Veteran Men (which had many more!). The competitive spirit is alive and well. Look at the expressions on these faces!

We finally left around 6 when they were beginning to organize for the tug of war with several more games to come. It had been a lovely afternoon and great fun.

We had a great hike this week along the Devon coastal trail. After manoeuvring roads like this,

we set out across fields to the cliffs on the edge of the Channel. 

 It was a magnificent walk with breathtaking scenery in all directions. Imagine how surprising to find this bed of flowers at the bottom of a long hill through a forest!

  

Of course, there are stiles everywhere but this one had a place for dogs.

We are having fun, relaxing, reading a lot. Perhaps this coming week, we will turn into real tourists but I wouldn't bet on it. Village life is slow and enticing!