By: Blonde Two
If, however, the vicar should be brave enough to read on as he sits in front of the fire after his Sunday lunch and jolly good sermon, he will discover that this is a very safe tale in which the main character is an aged (her word) Aunty – let’s call her Aunty Blonde. Now I would like to make this very clear from the start, Aunty Blonde may be in the generation above me but she is very much up for anything – this was clearly demonstrated by the way she leapt in and out of my sports car (tell you about that another time) in a much more nimble and less creaky way than me.
We were driving out to Haytor to see if we could gain enough height to get out of the coastal mist that was hanging around, when Aunty Blonde spotted a signpost and cried “Lustleigh, we must go to Lustleigh.” Now I have had enough to do with Aunties in my time to know that you don’t argue with them so we circumnavigated (now that is a word) the roundabout again and headed in that direction. Apparently Aunty Blonde had spent some fun time there way back when she was studying at Exeter University.
It was a good move to do as I was told. Not only was Aunty Blonde very happy, but Lustleigh turned out to be the most pretty, picture book village I have ever seen. My favourite thing about it was that the cottages (mostly thatched a la Devon) looked as if they had been placed in position by a toddler playing with a toy village. There appeared to be no rhyme or reason to their placement and it was all very charming.
After a rather lovely cuppa and almond macaroon at the Primrose Tearooms (we decided against the cream tea in case we offended by getting the cream/jam placement upside down). We had a potter around the village. A potter, I have decided, is shorter than a bimble and does not usually take you off the path. We followed a leat and a stream round past some houses that I would probably sell my front teeth for. It was all picture perfect and the sun started to shine on cue. There were snowdrops in the banks (I love Devon banks unless I am driving Mr Blonde Two’s truck past them) and hellebores in the gardens. The birds were singing – clearly as relieved as me that it wasn’t raining and the stream was definitely babbling.
Blonde Aunty and I loved it and promised ourselves to come back with more time for a longer walk. If you ever have an overseas visitor and you want to show them England, take them to Lustleigh on a Spring morning. They won’t be disappointed.