By: Blonde Two

I had an Uncle Tom.  He wasn’t from Dartmoor but he did love the outdoors and walking.  He was a kindly, tall man who used to appear at Christmas and on birthdays and he was mine.  I have three sisters you see and we pretty much shared everything; except Uncle Tom, he was my godfather and I made sure that my siblings knew it.

As a child, I actually did think that he was Uncle Tom Cobley.  We sang the song round the piano at New Year when he was there so it made sense to me that it would be about him.

I haven’t been to Widecombe Fair but I have visited Widecombe many times, usually as a lunch time pub stop on walks over Hamel Down (beautiful).  Yesterday I was feeling rough so, unable to resist Dartmoor, I set off on a car walk to find Uncle Tom Cobley.

He wasn’t there – apparently his Uncle is buried in the graveyard at Spreyton on North Dartmoor.  How weird being Uncle Tom Cobley’s Uncle Tom Cobleigh!

When we called in at the pub though for chips and a medicinal ginger wine, he had obviously got there before us and written his song on the wall.