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September 6th, 2009

Farewell to the Cottage

We're out of the cottage this morning, (I wrote this Saturday) and in the B&B next door.  I was very sad leaving the cottage, which has gotten to feel quite home-like.  I did get used to the stairs  (which were corkscrewed and precipitous--getting the suitcases down was a real nerve picnic), as all the writers in the Visitor's Book said I would, and the walks were indeed lovely.

The great highlight of yesterday (since I'm short on time here) was visiting Rima and Tui's caravan.  She's an aritist, he's a musician, and they travel around in this caravan Tui built out of scavanged lumber and pallet wood on the back of a small lorry to fairs and markets, selling her art and his CD's.  It was parked in a sheep field outside of Chagford, and was almost unbearably picturesque, with the sheep cropping the turf around and about, Rima's pictures set up around the roots of a nearby tree, and a plume of smoke coming out the little chimney.  The caravan itself is compact, beautifully designed, and aesthetic to a degree, all unexpected little windows and tables and shelves, with every available inch of wallspace covered with books or pictures or musical instruments.  Nice and warm, too, from the wood fire in the small circular stove.  And Rima and Tui match the decor, both being very handsome, with dredlocks down to their waists (Rima's are brown, Tui's blond) and clothes in artistic layers of tunics over pants and fingerless gloves and sweaters and headwraps.  Anybody else would look like they were dressed up for something, but they are just wearing clothes, unselfconscious and very much themselves.


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