Saturday, October 14, 2006

the hairy hand of dartmoor

I took a bit of a roadtrip yesterday. Meaning, me and my boss went to a business exhibition, really boring, except for the chocolate fountain that was exposed. An actual spring fountain, with flowing chocolate instead of water. You would dip a marshmellow, strawberry, cookie into the chocalate. it was a warm spring of chocolate, heavenly pooring down in a divine shape. hmmmm....

Because, except of that fountain, the exhibition was rather dull, my boss Simon said he'll make it up to me, so we took a d-tour on the way back through the Dartmoor region. For me, the name sounds a bit creepy. The Dartmoor is a swampy reagion, with beautyful hills and some weird rocks of granit , many cows and sheep, a bit transylvanian, but foggy, cold. This is where i understood the good part of the english weather. The Dartmoors were amazing just the way they were. With the weather, the greyness of the sky, and the reddish colours given by the autumn, perfect. Like a really bad tourist, i had forgotten my camera at home...
I've come to regret this more right when we came at the top of the journey, top of the hill, we stopped the car to enjoy some fresh air and there is was : The (appearently) famous Prison of Dartmoor.It was actually an old castle, made of strong, grey , granit rock, near a town called Princetown. But the very surroundings of the prison are just swampy, foggy hills, leaving a blur sight all arround. Creepy!!
And in order to get there you have to cross a small stone bridge, under which, so says the legend, lives the hairy hand of Dartmoor, that comes out from under the bridge and grabs the travelers.I'm glad i've heard the legend only after we crossed the bridge. So the Hairy Hand of Dartmoor did not get me this time...

1 comment:

anna said...

Draga, in momentele tale de deepest, greyest tristetzuri, gandeste-te ca toti care citim povestioarele tale, ne gandim la tine.

Te pupacesc