🎙️ A Radio Play, a Remarkable Woman… and a Memory Revisited

Withypool Common near where Hope Bourne used to live

I’ve just listened to a remarkable two-person play on BBC Radio 4 all about Hope Bourne – the now relatively famous Exmoor writer and painter.

It was excellent. First class. Beautifully written and acted. The woman playing Hope had her voice off to perfection – it could have been her sister. Not that she had one.

And it set me thinking…

✍️ When Hope Bourne Refused an Interview

A book by Hope Bourne lies open on my desk. Inside is a note written in September 1988 to my journalist father, Peter Hesp, which reads:

“You ask about a possible interview – the answer, sadly, must be no…”

I won’t go into her reasons for refusing – they were deeply personal and related to her health. But she did soften her stance slightly, enclosing her newly installed telephone number.

Ex-directory, of course.

She added that my father would be welcome to visit her informally – not as a journalist, but as a friend – if he fancied the journey to her remote corner of Exmoor, where she lived in a tiny, half-derelict caravan.

🌧️ A Call That Changed Everything

Which is why what happened two years later was so extraordinary.

Out of the blue, both my father and I received a call from Hope herself. This time she wasn’t reluctant – she was insistent. Urgent, even.

She wanted to speak out.

She was furious with the government of the day – and particularly with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. She felt she could no longer remain silent.

So we headed for the hills above Withypool.

It was one of those proper Exmoor days – wind howling, rain slashing sideways across the moor.

(For an overview of our special Exmoor Walks on this website click here )

🚗 Waiting in the Storm on Exmoor

We sat in my father’s tiny Mini Metro, the car rocking in the gale, waiting.

I had commissions from The Guardian and BBC radio. Whatever happened next would need to be turned into something publishable.

And then, through the sheets of rain…

🧥 “A Jaunty Bundle of Anoraks”

Here’s an extract from my Guardian piece, published Friday, February 16, 1990:

“Eventually what came out of the swirling torrents was a jaunty bundle of anoraks and scarves. After a great unravelling of these many outer layers, we at last met Miss Hope Bourne. She took the front passenger seat and, holding the other journalist’s hand, she turned to me: ‘Yes, I am a political creature and that is why I have decided to speak out. And yet for 30 years I have lived in these hills, no better than an animal.’”

Hope Bourne shot straight from the hip – and at that moment, all her guns (she was, incidentally, a fine shot) were aimed firmly at Margaret Thatcher.

“It takes a woman to see the cruel, wicked misuse of powers which is undoubtedly taking us toward a totalitarian state,” she said quietly. “I have voted Tory all my life, but now I am lost… Yes, I hate that bloody woman… Now I hate her because of her cruelty.”

🏕️ Life in a Caravan on Exmoor

When it came to material wealth, Hope Bourne lived far removed from the stockbroker belt.

Her “stock” was her neighbour’s cattle, which she tended in exchange for ground rent on her 12-foot caravan, perched high in a remote coombe.

The caravan itself was so dilapidated that a tarpaulin was pegged over the entire structure to keep out the weather.

We had to meet her at the bottom of the valley. My father had visited years earlier and remembered that there was only room for one person inside.

To read about a walk around the area where Hope Bourne s

ued to live click here...

🦌 Survival, Self-Reliance and a Rifle

Hope lived without electricity, running water, or modern comforts. Her one practical luxury?

A high-velocity rifle.

“There are plenty of rabbits and the occasional hare… I’ve always been able to butcher my own meat. The things I have managed to teach myself, I have always done well. Shooting is one of them.”

She was clear-eyed about her lifestyle:

“Don’t think I’m just an oddball who likes living far away from civilisation. As I am poor, it has been a matter of necessity.”

And yet, there was resilience – even pride.

💪 Toughness Forged on the Moor

Her stories bordered on the unbelievable:

“Once I broke my knee in that hollow down there. I had to crawl over two fields to get home. I made myself a splint and hobbled about for months… No, I didn’t go to a doctor.”

In 30 years, she had visited a doctor just once – after midges stung her eyes and temporarily blinded her.

🎩 From Victorian Upbringing to Wild Exmoor Life

This rugged existence stood in stark contrast to her earlier life.

Hope had been brought up in a genteel, almost Victorian household by her widowed schoolteacher mother. But when her mother died, so too did her financial security.

She sold the family home in Devon and, with only a few hundred pounds, retreated into the wilds of Exmoor.

🌟 A Life That Might Have Been

As a young woman, Hope had dreamed of influence and impact:

“I felt the urge to be a great speaker… one of those people who make history.”

Instead, illness and circumstance intervened. She left school at 14, suffered from asthma, and lived a restricted life at home until her mother’s death.

But then came a turning point:

“I made a list of all the things I had been told not to do… then I did every one of them.”

And with that, she remade herself.

“In fact… you could now describe me as being quite robust.”

📚 Why Hope Bourne Still Matters Today

Listening to that BBC Radio 4 play reminded me just how extraordinary Hope Bourne really was.

Not just a writer. Not just an artist.

But a fiercely independent spirit who carved out a life on her own uncompromising terms in one of England’s wildest landscapes.

And perhaps that’s why she still resonates today – in an age that rarely produces such characters.

Who was Hope Bourne? She was one of Exmoor’s most distinctive writers and artists, known for living alone on the moor and documenting its wildlife and landscape.

A rainbow on Withypool Common