The weary passengers looked around at each other for someone to blame – the temporary sense of camaraderie engendered by the earlier common trauma no longer evident. After bouts of tutting, expletives and rolling eyes, we took to exploring the view outside our cocoon. The other tracks – empty, the rear gardens of the terraced houses – unkempt, and, of most interest, the windows of those dwellings – unyielding. What mysteries did those curtains hide? What secrets did those dust covered windows protect? Why couldn’t we be a bit closer so that we could see inside?

It wasn’t long before my attention wandered back to my fellow travellers. No longer making any pretence to communicate with each other, they had each withdrawn to an ‘inner place’ and had clearly broken off all relations with the rest of the universe. Yet, as if responding to a species need, they all reached into their clothing and brought forth their ‘precious’ (apologies to Tolkien) – mp3 players and mobile phones. Like tiny, digital creatures that had just woken from hibernation, they began to nose their way out into the open before extending feeding tendrils into the ears of their hosts.

I pondered the seeming incongruity – each person isolated and yet linked through the ether – a wireless community. I was reminded of ‘the Borg’ – individual work units but part of a common collective – not required to understand their purpose only that they had a program which had to be followed. Plugged into and fully at one with their devices but oblivious to all around them – hurtling through space. At this point, of course, the analogy breaks down as we weren’t hurtling anywhere.

Eventually, the train, whilst not hurtling, did lurch into life and start to worm it’s way grudgingly along the track, screeching and protesting towards London – so Brussels became just a little bit closer. I relaxed and watched the world slip by – is that a metaphor for something?

On the morning of our departure I welcomed the news that a friend could give us a lift to the local underground station thus obviating the hassle of getting luggage on and off a ‘rush hour’ bus. Giving commuters’ shins a right ‘bang’ with our cases and receiving intimidating and pained looks was an experience I could happily forego. I was less pleased to find out that he was ‘fitting us in’ before going to work himself, the implication being that we would be leaving well over an hour earlier than necessary thus arriving at St Pancras with enough time to apply for residential status.

Nevertheless, the dye was cast and we duly arrived at the underground station, struggled down the stairs to the platform and waited patiently with the regular ‘lost souls’ for sight of our salvation and possibly even a seat.

It was at this point that a disembodied, slightly nasally voice whined     “The next train for London will be leaving from platform 3”.     There was an audible silence and all stood transfixed. I, along with the majority of others, had never heard of ‘platform 3′ – he might well have said “the Hogwarts Express is leaving from platform nine and three quarters”. The nasally voice whined on with a degree of ‘smurkiness’:     “It will be leaving in 3 minutes and you should make it …… if you run”.     No longer transfixed, there was a stampede for the stairs – we may not have known where platform 3 was but we knew we weren’t on it. The ones at the back followed the ones at the front, the ones at the front had to keep running to avoid being trampled by the ones at the back – neither group knew where they were heading. We followed a sweet, little, grey-haired old lady who seemed to know more than most and had already taken out two unwary travellers who had briefly stood between her and her goal. Over the bridge and down the other stairs we ran, the sound of panting and gasping growing louder as several normally sedentary types approached the early stages of cardiac arrest. Suddenly there was a group sigh as we all spotted the train tucked away on a little platform previously overlooked. Tired but grateful, we scrambled into the carriages and sank down onto the thankfully, empty seats . Looking either bright red or ashen grey, sweaty, dishevelled bodies sucked in great lungfuls of air, albeit polluted – we had made it with only seconds to spare.

10 minutes later the train left, heading for London. We were on our way…….

So let’s set the scene of this conflict, as I understand it.

The two sides in this dispute are 1. a ‘local radio station’ – “the voice fm” currently broadcasting on a 28 day licence (RSL) from Barnstaple under the name of “festival fm” (107.1) and 2. a ‘national regional station’ – “Heart – North Devon” (96.2) owned by the corporation “Global” (there’s a clue in the name).

The prize to the winner is the award being able to bid for the only fm licence to cover North Devon and Torridge.

The judge in the dispute is OFCOM and YOU have until the 29^th June to give OFCOM your view – that date signifies the end of the ‘public consultation’ period.

First we must know what it is we want from a ‘local radio’. I can’t really see any dispute here – we already have enough radio stations covering the UK and providing us with news and views from around the planet. What we need from a ‘local radio’ is what we don’t get – stuff specifically about North Devon and Torridge.

The people need to feel ownership of the station and kinship with its presenters, the non-music content being drawn from the local area and the local people. The material should be distinct from national coverage and be relevant to the local area. The listener should get a feel for the characteristics of the area and the output should be important and of specific interest to the local population. i.e. “radio about the people by the people for the people”. If I’m wrong, please let me know.

Now, as both stations are already broadcasting it is extremely easy for anyone to listen, as I have, and decide for themselves whether either or both meet these criteria.

First there is “Heart – North Devon”.

The non-music content has no particular connection with North Devon or Torridge nor the people living there as the same material is broadcast throughout the UK. The listener gets no feel for the area because the area is never mentioned and the output is not of specific interest to the local people. Even the majority (about 64% when I listened) of advertising is not specific to the area covered.

So, from a broadcasting perspective, it just ain’t ‘local radio’.

Perhaps we can get further insight into the philosophy of this company by looking at the website which presumably supports the station.

Again, it is primarily a UK content based site – virtually identical in all regions. The small ‘Local News’ and ‘Devon Today’ sections were (on the days I checked) almost entirely about South Devon, primarily Plymouth (a problem we also face with the regional TV channels). In the ‘Events’ section there was a noticeable lack of relevant material and the presenters’ blogs contained nothing about North Devon or Torridge.

Conversely, when we listen to “Festival fm” we find that it IS North Devon and Torridge.

The studio is in Barnstaple – local people can visit whenever they wish. Many of the presenters have a history in North Devon, the non-music content is about the area, 100% of the advertising comes from local business, the considerable interaction with the local people (phone, text, Facebook, Twitter) is about the area, and the website is about the area.

In short, it is exactly what we want from a ‘local radio’ – stuff about us.

North Devon and Torridge may be part of the county of Devon but it is as far removed from South Devon as it is from the surface of the moon. The landscape, the climate, the culture, the industry, the occupations and the interests of the population are all peculiar to North Devon.

It is not possible for anyone to look at this issue objectively and come to the conclusion that allowing Global to supply North Devon’s ‘local radio’ station from South Devon is in the interests of the people of North Devon. It’s a ‘no brainer’.

I believe the people of North Devon, given a genuine opportunity to voice their opinion, would vote overwhelmingly for a ‘true local radio’. I challenge OFCOM to visit North Devon and speak to the people they purport to be supporting – am I being naive, are not OFCOM supposed to be protecting our interests? Maybe there is a conflict of interests – maybe OFCOM have another agenda?

Nevertheless, during this period of public consultation, it’s up to everyone who cares to stand up and let OFCOM know. Go to www.thevoicefm.co.uk/savelocalradio and make YOUR VOICE heard.

“WE DON’T WANT HEART!”

p.s. For those of you not living in Devon, this is still your fight. If we lose here, you could be next…..

The 4 reservoirs at Tring, owned by ‘British Waterways’ but managed by ‘The Herts and Middlesex Wildlife Trust’ together with the ‘Friends of Tring Reservoirs’, were built in 1802 to feed branches of the Grand Union Canal which also runs through this area. There is a convenient car park, pleasant  teas rooms and over 11 miles of way-marked paths which make it easy for all to explore, utilise, picnic and relax along towpaths and locks or through woods and fields.
On warm sunny days families and couples can be seen angling, relaxing, walking or just sitting and watching the narrow boats as they work their way along the canal; the atmosphere is convivial, walkers often helping to open and close the locks. Of course, if you’d prefer to be on the water you can always hire a narrowboat – apart from working the locks, I’m told it is the perfect relaxing holiday.

Many of us, of course, go to experience the wildlife which abounds at these reservoirs. Whatever the season you will be able to see an assortment of birds from the relatively common place to some of the more unusual species.

There are grey herons which frequently stand on the bank allowing us to see them clearly  before performing a magnificent ’fly past’.

You’ll certainly see the usual suspects like Canada Geese, Mallards, Moorhens and Coots but Cormorants and Crested Grebes are also regulars.

In summer the Warblers and Reed Buntings appear together with Tufted Ducks and Pochards. In Winter the reservoirs are important sites for Terns, Gulls (over 20,000 roost nightly), Gadwall, Shovellers, Teal and Wigeon. In Spring and Autumn many migrating species visit Tring. Hobbies may be seen carrying out aerial feeding manoeuvres and, if you’re lucky you might see a Black-Necked Grebe – the first nesting site in the UK was here in 1918.

BUT, whilst soaking up these pleasures don’t forget ‘WE ARE NOT ALONE’ – take care not to damage habitats or leave ‘rubbish which might have an adverse affect on the wildlife. I’m sure that most of us would prefer to take home this image of our time at Tring – cute, soft and fluffy – a symbol of the ‘circle of life’.

However, the memory I shall have of this visit is marred by the action or inaction of an angler. Ironically, there was a ‘Junior Angler’s Competition’ on the day we visited the reservoirs. Great to see youngsters out there – I’m sure they are being properly supervised and taught to have respect for the environment. But the images below speak for themselves – either accidentally or through inexperience/carelessness this unhappy duckling was a ‘collateral casualty’.

So get out and enjoy what nature has to offer BUT remember “PLEASE BE CAREFUL OUT THERE”. (And if you see something wrong, report it.)

Going through the understated entrance to the car park you are seconds away from experiencing the pleasures of this small but beautifully formed treasure island which has something to appeal to all tastes.

Apparently there has been a mill here for over a 1000 years although the gardens only date back to the 1930′s’. The present owners of Docton Mill, John and Lana (pronounced Laina) Borrett, are now in their 12^th season and in that time have made many significant improvements.

The watermill

Walk down a short paved path by the side of a small canal and you reach the mill where, incidentally you can enjoy an excellent selection of food in the pleasant ‘Tea Terrace’. Docton Mill boasts ‘award winning’ cream teas, although I opted for the fresh mackerel with salad – it’s worth a visit for the food alone.

Path to the mill

The mill

Docton Mill is a mixture of formal and informal, structured and semi-wild. You will walk through woodland and bog, across well-kept lawns, past herbaceous borders and alongside small water courses. The paths, comprised of materials such as cobbles, wood and earth, rise and fall, sometimes quite steeply, as they meander though the varied mini landscapes – you will need to be sure footed, at least for the less formal part of the garden.

As I left the ‘Tea Terrace’ and took the steps up towards the ‘bog garden’ I was aware of the transition from formal to natural -with the candelabra primulas and rhododendrons giving way to ferns and mosses – a chorus of crows overhead almost drowned out the buzzing of solitary bees searching for homes in the undergrowth. Birds hiding among the foliage were constant and vocal companions as I followed the path through delightful and ever changing scenery – each turn bringing a new vista.

Sunlight filtering through the trees created a magical and mystical atmosphere as it fell across the flowers and ferns which carpeted the woodland floor.

As the path starts to descend, wooden bridges span small water courses and you leave behind the lush greenery of the woodland area and approach the more structured part of the gardens.

Now you will find the walking gets easier as you cross over the mill stream to enter the ‘Waterfall garden’ where the fragrance and sight of the rose collection will welcome you. Depending on the time of year, a dazzling array of plants can be seen as you make your way along herbaceous borders and water courses.

At a few strategic points there are seats where you can relax and simply take in the colour and scent of the surrounding flora. No plant lover can fail to note the  arrangement and condition of the plants – for those sufficiently impressed there is a nursery where you can purchase many of the species you’ve seen.

The 'mill stream'

At this point, I have to admit I was feeling rather hungry so I made my way back along the mill steam towards the mill and the ‘Tea Terrace’ where I was welcomed not only by the human staff but also by two canine members of the team – Doc and Amy – two labradors who clearly enjoyed meeting the visitors and, I hear, often take it upon themselves to guide you around the garden. I’ve already expressed my view that the food is of a good quality – I can also add that the menu has a sufficiently varied menu and that the service is both friendly and efficient – I found both Lana and John very happy to talk to visitors about the gardens, etc. – but do remember that they are extremely busy. They also provide a written guide and map to help you experience the best of the gardens.

So, the crunch – was it worth the visit and will I be returning? Undoubtedly ‘YES’ to both for several reasons. I want to see the garden at different times of the year. I also want to walk the extra kilometre to the coast and see the famous Spekes Valley waterfall. I know that my wife, who is far more knowledgable about plants than I, would love to go there and, finally, as I may already have mentioned, it”s worth it just for the food.

So if you have a few hours, you like plants or food or both, and you’re in the vicinity I’d recommend you give yourself a treat and check it out. Perhaps you could let me know what you think ……..

The Docton Mill website is: www.doctonmill.co.uk

As we went through the gate and walked slowly up the slight incline it was as though we were leaving behind the transient yet seemingly ever present problems of modern day. The constant stream of new ‘disasters’ and potential ‘catastrophes’ which bombard us via the ‘all knowing’  news media were replaced by a calmness and solid permanence which seemed to derive from these ancient and gnarled life forms that have stood here for so long. Certainly there is evidence of iron age dwellings and anglo saxon settlements within the wood but these and other groups of Homo sapiens have moved on and still the wood remains – stoic and disinterested through the passage of time. I’d swear I could feel my pulse slowing and my blood pressure dropping – I know that a smile played on my lips as I began to shed my worries and readjust my priorities. So much stress and pressure of everyday life is self imposed – striving for coloured baubles and fleeting pleasures – the human race has come such a long way and yet ………..? Perhaps we have forgotten what really matters, perhaps coming to a place like Horner Wood allows us to see our own challenges and lives from a more meaningful perspective – albeit for a brief time. But perhaps even short periods of such tranquility would allow us to ‘recharge or batteries’, regain our perspective, take a step back and refocus.

Horner Wood is a Site of Special Scientific Interest – it is important for mosses and liverworts, and over 300 species of lichens and 400 species of fungi have been identified. In addition 14 of the 16 UK bat species have been found here together with several interesting bird species such as redstarts, dippers, lesser-spotted woodpeckers and pied flycatchers.

Whilst walking through this wood it is difficult to know where to look – if you look skywards to see the birds you risk missing or damaging the ground flora but if you keep your head down you will most certainly miss seeing birds fluttering from branch to branch or buzzards wheeling in the sky.

The River Horner, or Horner Water as it known, is really little more than a fast flowing stream but nevertheless still provides an invaluable habitat. It’s origins lie to the south being served by Nutscale Reservoir, Nutscale Water, and Chetsford Water. It flows northwards through Horner Wood and the villages of Horner and Luccombe before being joined by the River Aller at Bossington and flowing into the sea at Porlock Bay.

“In an ancient woodland immersed in Nature’s silence all around me. The sound of running water first caressing then tumbling over rocks emerging briefly, champagne like, laughing, before quietly flowing northwards to the sea.  The choral chit chat of the myriad feathered jewels, songs full of exuberance as they flit from one hiding place to another providing tantalising glimpses.

The sun on the water creating a silvered ribbon encrusted with sparkling diamonds running through an avenue of overhanging boughs bedecked with mosses and ferns, nature’s decorations, celebrating the onset of spring.

Walk gently over the soft green carpet of moss stepping carefully between the Wood Sorrel strewn like confetti at a Spring festival and the fruiting bodies of fungi bursting brazenly from a fallen bough.

A place of peace to revive the soul. I shall be returning to Horner Wood.”

Moving on, I like birds (well all wildlife really) but I don’t ‘twitch’, I don’t have an ‘I spy’ tick list, nor do I normally chase round the country in the hope of spotting something rare. However, in January of this year the word went out that ‘Waxwings’ were about in huge numbers – usually in and around car parks where there were plentiful supplies of berries. I thought, well I’d like to see one cos they’re quite stunning but I wasn’t gonna drive round the county in response to sightings – but Enid (my wife) was, so I did. Glad I went – found them in Costco’s car park in Thurrock .

It was also about this time that the idea of ‘fake apple trees’ came to our attention – Waxwings like apple trees. So off to Tesco to get some cheap apples with which to decorate one of the trees in our garden. No Waxwings – some starlings had a real treat and a squirrel came along and stole one, just took it off the branch and ran off with it. However, our luck was in and after a few days we found we had a regular visitor – a smartly turned out ‘Blackcap’

So, how d’you end a blog? Well this was really just a test to see how easy it was ….piece of cake.