Over fifty years ago, I was walking down a lane near Chagford on Dartmoor, when I bumped into an old countryman I knew from previous conversations. He must have been pushing ninety then, for he had told me he could recall Queen Victoria’s Golden and Diamond Jubilee celebrations in the village.

“Yer warn’t git down yere!’ he said to me.

“Why not?”

‘Tez bliddy vlidded!”

And bloody flooded it was, for on a wet april day all those years ago, the River Teign had burst its banks.

Tez bliddy vlidded, I muttered to myself yesterday, as I walked out of Crosby Ravensworth on my way down the lane past Slack Randy to Holme Bridge – probably named after the local family of that name. I happily splashed through the roadside puddles, admiring the blossom on the blackthorn as I went.

You can tell how bad the rain was – I actually put on my waterproof poncho, which covers both me and the rucksack, for the first time in years, so I must have resembled a moving tent.

As I’ve said, the blackthorn looked magnificent and there was an abundance of lambs in the fields – lots and lots of signs of spring. But the rain came sometimes down and sometimes sideways, making this a very soggy two miles.

But, by gosh, it was exhilarating and – under the poncho – I was completely dry. Only my hands were getting damp as I snapped off a few pictures.

Mind, it was a good job I was turning off down the footpath at Holme Bridge, for the lane was completely vlidded soon afterwards. The lovely little River Lyvennet – usually such a gentle companion on walks was having a bit of a spat, desperate to burst its banks and – in one or two places – succeeding.

But the footpath was clear, if soggy. I followed it back into Crosby through soaked fields and finally along a muddy and puddled farm track.

There’s a very welcoming sign outside Crosby Ravensworth Church, inviting both the Godly and the Godless inside. Inviting you in for shelter, the sign says – so in I went. They also invite you in to top up your water, use the WC and Wifi as well as the welcoming shelter. Terribly civilised, I thought. So I switched on the lights and in I went.

I seem to recall that Noah built his ark after it rained for forty days and forty nights. I think we’ve had more rain than that. Pity I’m rubbish at carpentry!

Especially with the countryside the way it is…

Tez Bliddy Vlidded!

17 thoughts on “Tez Bliddy Vlidded”

  2. Loved this, John, it made me smile and giggle, and that’s always welcome! It really was a damp old day up there, wasn’t it? Thank goodness you had your poncho tent with you. Your old friend sounds a real character, and I can picture him well. You’re not alone in the quagmire up there at the moment though, most of the promenades here are also ‘bliddy vlidded’!

    Like

    Reply

  4. It certainly is! Bet the poor lambs wish they all had ponchos (although one farmer round here has done them the feed sack jackets 🙂 )

    I have 3 pairs of walking shoes and there are always at least 2 pairs undergoing a multi-day process of drying at any one time.

    We used to wear ponchos when I walked with my parents – they were also good on the bikes. The only time they weren’t good was in really windy weather – although I remember there was a strap fastened between your legs for such eventualities.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. I honestly don’t know. It’s at least 20 years old and made before manufacturer’s plastered labels all over their products. I recently bought one at an outdoorshop which is hopeless by comparison – far too lightweight, okay for showers but that’s about all. So you need heavy duty with a hood. Might be worth looking in army surplus stores.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  8. Tez bliddy vlidded indeed! I thought it was wet round here but you seem to have had it much worse. We share the abundance of lambs and blackthorn blossom—glorious sights, both.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

Leave a comment