Exmoor, Ex dad, Exactly Right

As it happened, the place I selected for my mum to stay in, on the edge of Exmoor, was precisely the place mum and dad were looking at when they decided they would like a holiday in Exmoor. The very same place. Serendipity! She was brave enough to come back on her own and her spirits were obviously lifted by the very act of independence and achievement (and the use of her newly acquired satnav: how good is that for a woman of 68?).
With the dodgy state of our MG, we caught the train to Tivvy Parkway where mum picked us up. First port of call was the pub for coffee,

then off to Minehead to go on the steam train to Watchet (yet another thing mum would have done if she had been there with dad).


Minehead seems even more dire than Paignton, if such a thing was possible.
While waiting for the train back, we spotted this gathering of Shitehawks.
but they soon buggered off when the bus roared past
Today, we went up, in thick fog, to Wimbleball Lake

And this fellow really freaked me out. Suddenly I was in a movie and he was about to come to life. Fortunately, he didn't.

At first the lake was completely invisible, almost as if the water was the sky, but very suddenly the mist lifted, and there we were in glorious sunshine and scenery, with the dam and moorland and hills all around. Superb.
Just by the B&B is this bridge, and I can see why mum seemed so much happier: arranging and enjoying this herself, having to cope on her own for the first time in 50 years, since she was a teenager. I was so pleased for her. Her own mum died of grief a year after grandad died. Dad made her promise (she says, I am not sure he did, I think it was me)and so did I, that she wouldn't do the same. Making good progress.