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So. December was the wettest in the UK for more than a century.

There’s a surprise. And, so far, this year hasn’t seen much change. It’s tipping it down yet again as I write. But there is only so much time stuck indoors that one can stand so yesterday we decided to brazen it out.

 
 

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Wheal Betsy

A former tin mine, the last standing engine house on Dartmoor.

 

It’s fair to say that with the wind hurling sheets of rain through the valleys, and in spite of my best intentions, most of the photographs were taken from inside the car. It was that miserable heavy drizzle which soaks you through in seconds.

 
 

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Bleak

 
 

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Bleaker still..

 
 

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The technicolour, if rather soggy, dream coat

 
 
 
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White water at Dartmeet

 
 

In the centre of the moor we found a beautiful old stone pub with a cosy bar.. and just managed to bag the last free table. The first working Monday after the New Year I had expected everywhere to be deserted. Not a bit of it.

 
 

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“Oy, that’s my patch..”

 
 

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Wild gorse in bloom already all over the moor

 
 

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Next time I reckon, a walk up there.

 
 

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Awwwww..

 
 

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“Hey mate, she’s got a camera.. “

 
 

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“She’ll be wanting to see my fine chest then..”

 
 

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“No chance. Mine, mine, MINE.”

 
 

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Now that’s better.

 
 
 

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