When Dave and I first announced we were moving to Devon, a lot of people thought we were totally nuts. I guess from the outside it seemed like a sudden departure – we were both so involved in London life in many ways, but at weekends all we wanted to do was escape the city.


DSC03187In the end, rent was too high in the capital and we figured we’d have a better life in the countryside where we’d have easier access to open spaces, a bigger house and a more relaxed lifestyle.

Devon itself was a total gamble. We’d randomly chosen Cornwall as our new home, basically because we though it might be nice, but we’d barely ever been there. Two weeks before the big move when we’d both already quit working as messengers and were crashing at my Mum’s house, Dave went to Devon to shoot a BMX jam in Devon for Red Bull and got talking to Kye Forte. Kye enthusiastically told Dave all about Newton Abbot, so the next day we decided to move to Devon instead.

Kye turned out to be right about Devon being rad – we were paying £500 a month for a house, instead of £1200 for a flat and within a minute’s ride we were deep in the countryside and on our way to Dartmoor. With epic road cycling and mountain biking on our doorstep we spent every minute we could outside on our bikes, deepening our tans and strengthening our legs. And I never stopped being awed by the countryside and it’s ever changing nature – one minute we’d pass irrestible clusters of thatched cottages and rose gardens, the next we’d be crawling across a rain-lashed Dartmoor, desperately bleak yet so thunderously alive. We were also close to some beautiful beaches dotted with cheerfully painted huts and some of the best river swimming spots in the whole of the UK.

So Devon was rad and yet we’ve just left. Why? Well something came up in Italy; a really great job that I just couldn’t refuse. But we’ll see what happens. Never say never, eh?






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