Fresh Horizons

Winter weather has confined us to a five mile radius for months now but the other day brilliant sunshine tempted us further afield and we decided on the Brendon Valley for a lunch trip. We drove through Porlock along the scenic A39, up Porlock hill on to Exmoor and past the Doone Valley on the left, hidden in a steep sided combe. Just before Countisbury we took a left fork and dropped steeply down and down and down to the Brendon Valley and the East Lyn River.

In the past we have taken friends and family to walk beside the river, crossed over the bridge to the Rockford Arms and then along the road back to the Staghunter’s Hotel. One memorable time I took the girls and we had a picnic sitting on rocks in the midst of swirling waters. A less memorable occasion was when a jutting wall hit my car and quite spoilt my lunch and was the beginning of my dislike of driving.

Today we had a good lunch at the Staghunter’s and reminisced about previous trips here. As usual there were plenty of walkers with dogs, happy to introduce us to their animals and engage in friendly conversation – it’s that sort of place. It has a secret cut-off feeling and would be an ideal spot if one wanted to hide from the world. I once convinced myself that a chap in the bar was Salman Rushdie at the height of the fatwa and all the unpleasantness I didn’t want to blow his cover so didn’t utter. Maybe it was my over active imagination.

Looking towards the hidden valleys

Down, down, down to secret Brendon


the Staghunter's Hotel.

Brendon in Edwardian days

The East Lyn River

Is that a cock?

View from the bridge.

That pesky wall jutting out just before a narrow right turh over the bridge.

What were they thinking of ?

Last week there was an excellent five part drama on BBC1 written by Gwyneth Hughes and broadcast on five consecutive nights. It was a gripping many stranded story with a superb cast led by Suranne Jones and David Morissey. Then there was marvellous Anne Reid playing Suranne’s mother. She captured the tragic sadness of a woman losing her grip, mentally on life, but still able to attract a widower played by Bernard Hill who had already lost his wife to Alzheimers.

There are so many other facets to this play one of which involved an abandoned baby. This isn’t a criticism of the play but something I need to get off my chest. More and more babies – even new born - are being used in drama and in this particular series the baby was clearly in a distressed condition and left to cry which was just right for the play but not for the baby, He needed to be held and comforted by his mother or someone he was happy with.

There were night scenes outdoors and one began to wish for the days when a doll would be used.

And what about those toddlers who are used to portray child abuse for various charities. They are too young to just act it. Why do they look so desperately unhappy? Producers are always ready to point out that no animals suffered during the action but what about the children?

Is there someone responsible for the well being of these babies? I’d really like to know.

I did one TV advertisement with my baby many years ago and the deal was we stopped the minute he was unhappy and he was held throughout by his mother. No harm was done – in fact the director came off worse as my son swiped a tin of Heinz strained carrots over him. Then we decided to quit before he got concerned about his close-up and became a spoiled brat.

Anne Reid

If Proof were needed that Spring is on its way.

The first camellia. I had to bring it in the house.

These shameless hussies opening up to the sun.


The Cornus Mas - the first tree to start blooming.