the last cottage in Cornwall

well, here we are in the last of the Cornish Cottages.. on the north side of Bodmin Moor - in the middle of nowhere.. the cottage is perfect. However, I am homesick, really homesick. [I can remember when I use to get homesick as a little girl.. I would be at my Nan & Pa's and wake in the middle of the night, absolutely homesick and I would cry and cry.. many the time my grandparents had to bundle us all up in their FJ Ute and make the long trek from Ermington to Windsor, often arriving back at Windsor, at midnight, with me crying.. and that is exactly how I feel now, like sobbing, the feeling in my solar plexus, hurts and there are no grandparents to bundle me up and take me home]

we arrived in North Hill, yesterday to a warm, cosy cottage and a basket full of wood.. and settled ourselves in..
I am still waking around 4am every morning. Sometimes I get up and do a contemplative meditation, others, I just toss and turn. I am taking walnut and star of bethlehem for the homesickness, but the only remedy that will work, is actually going home. we are counting the days - 10 weeks is just too long to be away. I feel as if I have done what needed to be done and now I am ready for the next part of my journey.. that at home.. I still have to walk the Moors and I have a stone to place there from home.. a little ritual that I want to do .. of course, if it stops raining.

this morning we set off to visit Tavistock again, the home of my great grandfather. The one who is responsible for me being in Australia. The one who I will forever be in gratitude to.

and it rained.

We had parcels to send but decided on morning tea first.. and in we went, to be seated next to an elderly gentleman who was on for a chat. He told me jokes, he told me about Devon and at one stage, it was like, I was back sitting with my Pa.. all of these little interludes are by no accident, they are all happening to me as a gift from my ancestors.
then we went for a look at the local church.

and once again, an anglican church more catholic than most catholic churches at home.. they never cease to amaze me as I walk silently among the pews. holding my breath in awe.

with holy water, statues of Mary

and candles.

It was gorgeous

but the thing that struck me with this one was that high up in the vaulted roof was a pagan symbol of the three hares.. there is more to all of this than any of us know.. it is all connected somehow.. and if only every one could see that and embrace it.. instead of thinking that their way is the only and right way.

I lit a candle and sat and prayed for awhile.

JOURNAL:
as I entered the church in Tavistock, I was once again moved to tears. I just wanted to cry. Partly because I was homesick, but it was more than that.. it was once again as if I were home. The peace enveloped my being. I didn't want to leave.. the prayers ooze, seep from the walls and you can literally feel the presence of all those who have prayed, wished and dreamed here... something keeps drawing me back to these old churches. I don't feel that at home. I wish I did... but it has to have something to do with a past life memory here for me.. it is so strong.

Joe had a little shopping to do and I stood in a little laneway, with umbrella over my head.. a young man came up to me and started to talk to me.. and once he heard my accent - 'so wot are you doin' here then'... I told him and he said he cannot wait to go to Australia. He was in the RN, a chef and was planning to travel to Australia end of 2013. I wished him well as we walked away. He reminded me so much of my cousin, Ben. a little younger, but the same lilt in his voice, sparkle in his eye and the same demeanour. I was homesick all over again.

I went to a health food shop to see if I could buy some almond or rice milk.. but no.

 I cannot understand why things that I can buy at home are so difficult to find here. I miss all my healthy food stuff.. I miss my juices. I miss good, fresh organic salads.

Tavistock is a beautiful town.. and I feel as if I am at home. The people are friendly, mostly. [except for the rude driver who almost ran me down today.. hurling abuse at me as I walked across the road, because I didn't run and got in his way.. as did an elderly lady in front of me.. I just turned to him as he yelled and I said 'slow down, how rude'..  he was red in the face and angry. jerk. But Tavistock itself, needs to be explored and one cannot do that in this rain. a bitter disappointment actually. But, it makes me smile inside, to know that some of my ancestors came from such a beautiful area. I hope to be able to visit Dartmoor National Park this week, but of course, once again depending on the rain.

then we went to Plymouth. to exchange a shirt that I had bought Joe for Christmas.
of course, the Christmas sales are on.

Plymouth, just like any other city.

 I didn't like it at all and I found it very difficult to imagine my Pa here as a little boy, playing marbles. It felt foreign and I felt quite let down.

another day gone..

the wind is blowing a gale outside.. and of course it is raining..tomorrow we hope to visit a Holy Well nearby but of course that will depend on the weather.