The Trout Inn, Bickleigh
A wonderful morning. Is that because I was leaving Crediton? The town has the last laugh - as I am leaving by the footpath I am forced to negotiate ankle deep liquid red mud that plasters my beautiful clean boots.
The weather can only be described as perfect. Fluffy white Springfield clouds, ice-cream cool breezes and warming sunshine. The walk has been Elgar in my mind (I know this is not the right bit of the country, but hey - relax). The hills have been steep, the views quintessentially English. The Exe is a delight, full and purposeful in its flow.
I am having a fair to middling pint in a bit of a coach-party road-house, but I am in a comfy sofa and all is well with the world. Still 10 miles to do this afternoon, but I am going to dawdle and take it all in leisurely.
The countryside around these parts is as heavenly as the town is hell.