The ponies seemed grateful for a respite from the rain. Here i am looking West - the hill in the background is Caradon hill, on the Eastern side of Bodmin moor.
And looking East, Dartmoor is looking quite gentle and Far Away behind the slopes of Hingston Down, where the Cornish may have fought their last battle against the Egbert of Wessex in 838. Or possibly not. It's all a bit woolly.
I like to think of Egbert as a member of the Wave of Egg-kings from 1066 And All That. I'm sure there should be an illustration of the Wave of Egg-kings out there somewhere, but Google can't find it. No biscuit for you, Google.
I learn from Wikipedia that apparently the hill I am standing on to take these photos was used for underground explosions by the Atomic Energy Authority in 1959. I always knew that this county was riddled with tunnels like a swiss cheese and more than a little naturally radioactive, but this news makes me particularly pleased that our radon gas test turned up negative.
That building in the middle belongs to our local quarry.
Here is a closer photo of the quarry in the evening, looking dramatically dark and satanic. If I'm honest, I don't actually know what goes on inside this building - it's something to do with gravel - but my mental image of it is pretty close to that bit in the Lord of the Rings movies when the camera suddenly dives into the depths of the tunnels under Isengard and it's all random fires and orcs hitting things with hammers. I definitely think that's how they make gravel in a building that looks like this.
Assuming that they are actually making gravel, and it's not some sort of Sarumanic ruse by the Atomic Energy Authority to continue to make occasional giant hair-raising bangs in the hidden underground.
