April 2013. A memorial on Dartmoor to a Royal Air Force bomber which crashed here in 1941.
There are a few of these posts scattered over the same area: I’m told they were put here during the war to prevent enemy planes from landing.
Jay’s Grave: an eighteenth century suicide, a girl ruined by a local squire. Fresh flowers appear here every few days, something of a local legend. Whoever places them there is brushing up their act with picturesque daffodils in a glass jar. I always remember it usually being an old margarine tub with a few wilted polyanthus chucked in. Not the most uplifting captions are they? But the sun’s shining like I promised. At least I didn’t get in the bit about the friendly community burying the poor girl at a crossroads so that her doomed soul wouldn’t be able to find its way home.
Countryside Commission voiceovers can audition here…
The lightning tree.
Blah blah golden host blah wandering etc., etc.