By: Blonde Two

Blonde One and I compared diaries today and were both mega disappointed to find out that is unlikely that we will be able to go for a Blonde Dartmoor walk before next Tuesday.  Having not been to Dartmoor since our last bluebell excursion, we are both feeling that urge quite, well, urgently!

Some might suggest that we are being a bit greedy to want so many visits but Dartmoor is a funny place and its pull is very strong.  The more you go, the more you want to go … I have found in the past that the only way to deal with this problem is to pound some equipment at the gym or walk up a hill (any hill will do) very fast.  These solutions only have a very temporary effect.

I have been wracking my brain trying to think of more permanent Dartmoor obsession cures but it is not proving easy – see what you think …

1.  Cold Turkey – this would not involve a Boxing Day sandwich but would mean that I avoid anything to do with Dartmoor for, let’s say, a month.  I can’t honestly see it working, for a start, I would only be able to look out of the windows at the front of our house.  I will be on the other side of the planet for most of August but already know that I will be taking my Dartmoor map with me just in case I get an urge to stroke Kink in Leat or sniff Holwell Lawn.

2.  Immersion – I don’t mean a quick dip in Crazywell Pool.  For this cure, I would have to go to Dartmoor every day for a month and walk for at least six hours whatever the weather.  The idea would be that sooner or later I would get fed up.  I can tell you right away that this isn’t going to put me off because as I am typing, it sounds fabulous.  This cure will not work.

3.  Replacement – For this cure, I will have to go another walking area and explore for a month.  I can guarantee that I would enjoy this but some things just wouldn’t be quite right.  The mist wouldn’t be wet enough, the rocks would be the wrong shape and the smell would not be quite the right shade of peat.

So there we are, I really don’t think there is a cure.  I am condemned to forever roam the earth checking my diary for a Dartmoor Date.  The time for pretending is over.  I might as well confess now.  My name is ……. (oops, that was close)  … my name is Blonde Two and I am a Dartmoorholic!