By: Blonde Two

Most of us Dartmoor lovers have at least a couple of favourite spots.  Those remote, high up locations that are our contemplative, emotion calming or relaxing places.  The Dartmoor Christmas Tree is one of those for the Two Blondes – there is a granite two-seater (you can squash three or four on) sofa perfectly positioned for sunset viewing and we have spent many hours sitting there.

You can understand, I am sure, that we found it strange on Saturday that there were lots of people walking past it, taking photos of the view and generally meandering around.  We didn’t mind, except that, along with Little-Miss-Blonde, we were on the secret mission “Christmas Bauble” this had to be a secret to protect our Blonde identities.

In order to keep this very important mission quiet, we had to give ourselves distinct roles and adopt an operations strategy known as “nonchalance”.  I would like to point out here, that before we could adopt “nonchalance”, Blonde One insisted that we be able to spell it properly.  I looked it up afterwards and liked the definitions “cool and casually calm” best.  I am not sure what “nonchalance” should look like, but when you are Blonde, it goes a bit like this:  1.  Whistle a strange, lift music type tune.  2.  Look around you at all times but keeping your head rotating as much as possible so that nobody notices.  3.  Talk loudly about cairns, ponies or fluffy bunnies (alternatively name random tors).  5.  Fiddle with your hair even if it is tied back in an over-tight pony tail (no real ponies were harmed).

Blonde One was on look-out and photographic duty – she was kept on her toes because the Christmas spies were descending on us from all angels (I mean angles!) Little-Miss-Blonde was in charge of bauble placement (this she did admirably) whilst I stood on a rock to move branches and give knot tying advice (“keep doing that over and over again”).  It has to be said that Two Blondes standing on the same rock giggling probably did attract rather more attention than we had intended but it was really good fun.

The other stealth action we had to undertake was during our (successful) attempt to photograph a Christmas Elf and Father Christmas who were also visiting the Dartmoor Christmas Tree (see yesterday’s blog post).  As we all know, Elves are shy creatures and these days Father Christmas tries to avoid the paparazzi so that he doesn’t annoy his sponsors.  We crouched giggling behind a rock with our cuppas whilst taking it in turns to pop-up and pretend (whilst continuing to adopt “nonchalance”) to take photos of the surrounding countryside.

I am unsure looking back, whether the banana, the Dartmoor air or the tear inducing giggles finally got rid of my hangover but one of them definitely did.  Maybe laughter truly is the best medicine!