#bickleigh

[travelling-my-little-pony]

This is the year of Dr Whooves searching for his own special telephone box!

This is photo number 17 of 365.

Here is Dr Whooves looking at a phone box in Bickleigh, in Devon, England. This phone box no longer has a payphone in it but has been turned into a tiny lending library by local people. Appropriately enough, with an autobiography by one of the Dr Who actors. This is not the box he is looking for.

[woodlandninja]

[elizabetthy]

🚩Fisherman's Cot, Bickleigh, Devon

[greedycowblog-blog]

Confit of duck is one of my favourite meals to have when dining out. This beauty at the trout inn has certainly hit the spot tonight #duck #confitduck #eatingout #troutinn #bickleigh #devon #ilikesduck #quackers #tasty #treatyourself #greedycow (at Trout Inn Bickleigh)

[lovebabyessentials]

Fig Tree Cottage Large Cottage, Bickleigh, South West England (Ref 904128)

Fig Tree Cottage Large Cottage, Bickleigh, South West England (Ref 904128)

Description: Fig Tree Cottage is a detached barn conversion located one mile from the village of Bickleigh in Mid Devon. The cottage sleeps eight people in four bedrooms – one ground floor super king-size double, which has zip and link beds, one ground floor twin, one super king-size double on the first floor with en-suite bath, shower over, basin and WC and one first floor double with dressing…

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[somesortofexperimentation]

Bickleigh's Meadow

Across these undulating veins of grass My hand, my fingers weave through jewels hovering And the gentle sway of decks such as these A clear sign of an ocean awash with pale greens I pick one flower or two, far from such a bundle, but cradled still My eyes pear on the edge to join hands and nature Now the colours with the backdrop of greens, become vivid These colours of such a gathering, bring a story to be read I lye down into this vast complex of wilds and freedoms Under my back spread the green veins, going far back to all of histories kingdoms My peripheral vision is bordered all around, by the roof top of this sacred land And in the frame, the cobalt blue, the sapphires, dusted by icings of those far above I never can notice how time and all her might swift far ahead In places such as this, that are searched, found, and deeply absorbed Such a thought prompts this moment of rest to conclude Now my legs heave up to be giants, above this meadows collection of insects Now a wave and goodbye, a statement of silence thoughtfully remembered While the gentle march concludes, for the mighty oaks shade, out of softest rains I lean on a barbed wire fence, mans delicate insult to all his mothers land Now she encroaches the evidence, her final answer, is clear to understand I now climb to the other side, from painted dream into forged reality But nature trusts, for mothers witness now and before, guarantee's a return The dream is remembered, cherished, unspoilt by real worlds, potential invasions For only me and life’s cycle through the harshness of weather, permitted to enter. Poetry by D.G.Davey 2013