My mother has lived in Devon for almost twenty years but moves to Italy in September. I am sad not to have a reason to come here any more. Despite the dreadful weather (the sun has been out for a total of seven minutes during the last four days which I believe is a record for August, normally it just rains non-stop) I love it here.
I love the countryside, the people, the sheeps (as the children call them), the cows and the fact that everything is so green. I love the little winding roads, the mossy woods, the small streams and the hedgerows.
One of the best things about the trip has been walking around the lanes with the children. Leo has become addicted to blackberries and there is nothing quite as romantic for a girl brought up in England as the sight of her blond son stuffing blackberries in his mouth. On a par with the blueberries in Sweden. What is it with me and dark-coloured berries?
The other evening, when the sun was briefly visible, we lay in a field on our plastic macs and gazed at the view. There were green rolling hills and three large oak trees in a field that looked as if they’d been there for hundreds of years and probably will for hundreds of years to come.
As I drove back from my daily trip to M&S this morning I realised that this would probably be the last time I ever do that drive which made me very sad. Unless of course the Tiverton Film Festival becomes a reality and they make Ciao Bella into a film which has its premiere here. I wonder which is more likely?
My mother had a leaving party last night. It was a great do with lots of food, music and good friends. Leo summed it up so well as we fell into bed around midnight. “They were so nice, the peoples,” he said. I think my mother will miss them, but maybe some of them will find their way to Umbria to visit.
Meanwhile my friendly spy has revealed what Heathcliff thought of me after seeing me again twenty years on. He thinks I am a very nice person (don’t you just hate that?) but he doesn’t fancy me. The reason? “She’s too thin.” I like him more than ever.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2007