My goddaughter and her family invited us recently to spend a few days with them at a cottage in rural Devon, on the eastern edge of the Dartmoor National Park. It’s not an area of the UK that I know, so I was imagining chocolate-box cottages and cream teas galore.
The cottages were plentiful, but we ran out of time for a cream tea. We spent our time walking in the nearby woods (destination: the only pub for a few miles), watching Tilly enjoying running free and picking out which house we’d like to live in.
Back in the cottage, we enjoyed hanging out around the large kitchen table, chatting, playing board games and eating cake we’d purchased from the village. We didn’t watch the television at all and the WiFi was patchy.
It was the sort of break designed to recharge the batteries, and it did exactly that.