Fake Rain

When we arrived here on Tuesday and were selecting a pitch (grass or hard-standing, sir?), the friendly people at the campsite said that the only real rain they were expecting would be on Thursday night.

This morning under some intermittent blue, we were going to set off on a 6-mile route to investigate the area surrounding Lydford, including one of the Dartmoor tors that we are looking at from Billy Bailey’s front window. Carol’s phone rang. It was our friend Jon, former proprietor of the Cinnamon Girl cafe in Falmouth, who had recently managed to extricate himself from running said cafe and was finally escaping from Cornwall. We delayed our walk in order to meet him and share a coffee made by a professional as he began his long-awaited walkabout.

We finally began our walk at about 1:00 PM. Gathering murk descended upon the hills of Dartmoor making already-hard-to-follow footpaths even harder to see and drizzle surrounded us from about 2:00 PM. This must have been fake rain.

The real rain began overnight, as advertised.

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