By: Blonde One
The Two Blondes are often wondering about how our lives have two very distinct halves: work and Dartmoor. As we all know things are much, much better in pairs but we often marvel at how the two halves are so very different from each other. We feel like we are taking split personalities to a very new level! I have become comfortable with my two halves and have sorted things out in my head so that I don’t ever turn up on Dartmoor with patent leather stilletos or turn up to work with thermals and a survival bag. I love both halves of my world and even better is that they both include Blonde Two.
As you know recently I went up to London (in the First Class carriage of the train) in a very posh frock, met the Duke of Edinburgh at St James’ Palace and had lunch at The Ritz. This is a very new and alien extra half (told you I was no good at maths!). I don’t think I will be replicating this type of day – ever – so it does not really count as a half. I had the most amazing day and it highlighted perfectly how good we Blondes are at multi tasking. It is possible to go from the plush surroundings of The Ritz to the barren, fogginess of Dartmoor. It is possible to go from an amazingly presented champagne and elderflower mousse served on bone china and eaten with a real silver spoon to a ham sandwich served in a plastic take-away tub (can’t bring pasta as the spork is broken!) with a Toffee Crisp for dessert.
This day in London was very special for the Blonde family and will have its place very firmly cemented in the memory banks but I have to say that I love the reality and normality of Dartmoor: fog, bogs and Toffee Crisps!
You are building up a reputation as ‘Posh Blonde’!
I have been called ‘Posh Blonde’ before. In fact another walking companion has even suggested that I live in a place that should have the prefix ‘Royal …’! Like you say though, Blonde Two knows the truth!!!
….. except Blonde Two knows the real Blonde One!
Ah, an opportunity to address B1 specifically. All I needed to do was keep an eye on the post datelines and, lo, after several buses serving the suburbs (that’s B2) along comes one that serves more distant destinations. In terms of Hereford, where I live, B2 looks after the needs of Newton Farm, Belmont and Bobblestock, while you, B1, pop over the horizon to Brecon, Knighton and Ludlow. This is just a personal mnemonic since, from now on, it makes sense to do what other commenters have done and regard you both collectively as lobes of the same brain.
I hardly have to introduce myself. I’m a fan so take that as read. And I’m a fan for the reasons you touch on in this post. You walk for fun and I suspect the first wave of commenters were walkers. But another type of commenter is en route: the sluggardly, screen-gazing, pale-faced, wide-bummed sort. Armchair walkers, you might say. Me for instance. Drawn in by the fact that in writing about walking you have realised that it makes sense not to write about walking all the time. That other sides of your lives inform and enhance the main subject. Thus in the course of some rain-swept endurance test passing by the Duke of Edinburgh (appropriately wearing the London Fog raincoat he seems to have effected recently) can be just as telling as passing by Mam Tor (I may have the wrong county here; if so I apologise).
This is shockingly patronising since it is clear you didn’t arrive at this stratagem by accident. That you decided by discussion (I prefer: by osmosis) that map-references, telescopic poles and the deification of Hamish (forgotten his surname) would all play a part but that literary, domestic and social allusions would add salt. Proving that walking is not a life apart but simply a part of life. (Question: does that qualify as an apophthegm? It does? Oh joy! I look forward to getting my Ld’H ribbon.)
Not only patronising but egregiously long. Future contributions, if you’ll have me, will stick to the point and cleave to the philosophy adopted for my own blog, never to exceed 300 words.
PS: Lunch at the Ritz is all very well but the true gastro-socio-Proustio experience is best achieved via tea at the Ritz. And don’t imagine you’ll be condemned as a cheapie; it now costs £50 a knock.
PPS: Armchair walkers. The concept is best expressed in Evelyn Waugh’s introduction to Eric Newby’s A Short Walk In The Hindu Kush, arguably the best outdoors book ever written.
Lovely, lovely words! You are more than welcome to become a regular commenter/contributor if you continue to use such beautiful words! Words are a very distinct part of my non Dartmoor half of life.