A couple of weeks ago myself and the OH headed south to the grand metropolis of Exeter, to partake in a little retail therapy and a big pizza. We parked the car in Barnstaple train station car park and took the Tarka Line to the big city. Crowded carriages and bawdy students withstanding, I invariably enjoy this journey. It takes just over an hour as it meanders through the delightful Devon countryside. A large proportion of this trip is joyfully a WiFi desert. Instead of spending quality time admiring kittens and googling how long it would take to pogo stick from here to the moon, it is necessary to think, look out the window, make notes, or perhaps read a paper. All things that our distant ancestors would to do as a matter of course. So I settled down to some serious contemplating.
Suddenly I was snapped out of my meditations on whether David Essex would reconsider my recent proposal. We had stopped at Copplestone station. Although only there long enough for a man with a goat to board, the platform stood out like a floriferous beacon. I just had to know “how, why and who” had worked so hard on this project.
A couple of emails later and I was visiting the wonderful women who have created this oasis. And up close it is even better. Bug hotels, herb gardens, composting areas, rainwater butts, as well as the overflowing planters and well stocked borders. It is not a surprise that they have won various awards for their work. It was an honour to meet them, and I hope my forthcoming article in Devon Life will do them proud. They certainly deserve it.