The author's earliest memory of Devon was marked by fear and confusion, stemming from a childhood experience of getting lost while trying to find a friend's house. This journey, compounded by a vague set of directions and the absence of mobile phones, left a lasting impression, causing the author to associate Devon with melancholy. However, years later, upon returning to the region for his wedding to Rachel Schofield, the author's perspective changed, symbolizing a journey from feeling lost to finding love and connection.
My earliest memory of Devon is being lost, and my mum crying. We were popping in and the directions were something like, Turn left after South Zeal. After an hour, my mum burst into tears and denounced a fellow human being. We don't know where we are. Nobody does. This sounded serious to me. There were no mobile phones... only a large spiral-bound map of the entire country. Years later, I returned to Devon, now synonymous with being found and loved.
25 years later I returned, as the location was with my fiancee Rachel Schofield. Her parents had retired to a sprawling house near Sidmouth, having suggested a marquee in their garden for our wedding day. I was hardly about to suggest alternative wedding venues, like Hammersmith. This time it was a journey of being found, not lost. We were married in the church of St John the Evangelist in Tipton.
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