utterly butterleigh

My love affair with Devon started when I turned 30. To mark my momentous birthday whilst vacationing in England, my globe-trotting, Hampshire-born boyfriend Tim (now husband) gave me my first pair of green Hunter wellington boots, a Barbour jacket and… five Exmoor horn sheep. I was completely bemused at the thought of becoming a shepherdess whilst still living in our glass encased, high-rise apartment in Hong Kong. Especially, as my most exotic pet, until that day, had been my Australian Silky Terrier, Prince.

“My brother will keep them on his land in Devon for now” was the reassuring reply from my most creative gift-giver. “Welcome to English life my love!”

Of course, I was besotted with him and the five black-eyed, teddy-bear faces staring back at me. The especially handsome ram had magnificent, ecru curling horns that one only imagines in fairy tales or on mythical beasts.

As nostalgia must also play its part, my other-half used to spend dreamy summer holidays at his Grandfather’s house in Instow, Devon. Tim’s grandfather’s house, Strandfield, was elegantly situated by the beach and today, under the present ownership, is the Commodore Hotel (https://www.commodore-instow.co.uk). A perfect setting for an Agatha Christie novel or a writer’s retreat!

We now had a great excuse to “visit my sheep” in Devon and of course, Tim’s brother Hugh, who kindly agreed to look after them. I left two muddy wellies, an oily Barbour jacket, five wooly teddy-bears and my heart in Devon from that moment onwards. As we devoured our wonton noodle soups at the Cathay Pacific lounge and boarded our flight back to Hong Kong, I knew I would be back. And one Chinese Zodiac cycle later, here I am. With a few more pairs of wellies…