A trip to Exmoor, where the wild things are

Since moving to London I have been teased relentlessly by my colleagues for coming from Devon. Cider jokes, extra digits jokes, ‘close’ family jokes – I’ve heard them all. And the teasing intensified when they found out I was spending the bank holiday weekend with my parents in the West Country in a motor home. But the joke’s on them because I had an absolutely cracking time (as demonstrated below with my first pint of the trip!)

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We stayed in the beautiful Dulverton on Exmoor and spent our days walking, nature-spotting/enjoying, eating, boozing and sleeping. And not much else. If I was an animal I’d definitely be a cat because all I need is food, sleep and occasional attention.

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After a busy few months in the city, it was great to get back home and enjoy the country. London, I love you, but the West Country will always win.

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Whilst it might reasonably be said that I am an uncool human, it is fair to say that my family are even worse. My Dad and my brother are keeping lists of the birds they see and making a competition out of who can find the most… Sounds tragic, I know, but it’s actually fun trying to find weird and wonderful creatures. My parents were very excited at spotting this regal Goosander (below) along the River Barle. As far I can tell it’s a duck with a sort of vaguely gingery dragon head but then I’m no Chris Packham.

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We all indulged in a bit of cheeky photography over the trip, with my Dad snapping some killer wildlife shots on his new sexy camera.

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He got this great shot of a grey wagtail below (confusingly called that even though it’s largely bright yellow). It looks like it’s been photoshopped in!

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And this diva of a swallow who was showing off and wanted his picture taken.

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And Exmoor isn’t Exmoor without an obligatory trip to Tarr Steps. We had an ice cream whilst I re-applied plasters to my notoriously crap feet. I could have put a picture of that in this blog but it wasn’t pretty…

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By the end of our biggest walk our feet were ruined, we were bloody knackered and hungry as hell. So when we returned to the site, Dad cooked a mammoth BBQ. (Quick note: whilst I fully respect and endorse motorhome trips and the like, I do NOT respect and endorse the wearing of crocs in any context.)

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Heaven. On. Earth.

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Writing about food has made me hungry so I am going to go and get dinner. But I’ll end with this beautiful shot:

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Oh Exmoor you sexy beast…

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