After the harbour-side lunch in Brixham (thieving seagull and all) I found my way back to the car and set off towards Paignton. I’d worked out that I had enough time to do a there-and-back trip on the Dart Valley Steam Railway, and still have plenty of time to get to Killerton for the performance of Hamlet.

I found a little station with a car park some distance away. I parked up and paid, and walked to said station. In spite of signage directing drivers to the station, only on arrival did I see signs saying trains stopped only at the two ends of the line, Paignton and Kingswear, not at any intermediate station! That information is in the small print on the leaflet which I could have picked up in Dartmouth, but I think that brown signs indicating steam trains should be removed if they point to a station where no trains stop.

What could I do? Walk back to the car, shrug off the expense of having paid, and head for Paignton. There, the Dart Valley line and the main line sit side by side, and appear to share the station. However, the entrance to one line does not give access to the other. The car park, though, serves both, and is further away from the Dart Valley Station than the main line, so more walking. That wasn’t the worst of it! – The ONLY parking was for the whole day!! No alternative seemed to be available.

When I got to the correct station, the train was just coming in from ‘the other end’. There was a 15-20 minute pause needed for the engine to change ends, so no rush, I thought. BUT the ticket office was unstaffed. A very nice man did appear, eventually, and asked if I wanted something. “Yes. I want to ride on that train!” He did his very best to make everything as good as it could be (apart from the expensive parking!). He allocated me a seat in the nearest carriage – it was just outside that very door (sorry! those less familiar with ‘The Ghost Train’ won’t realise why I’m phrasing it like that! There’s more to come!), and he explained that the ticket included the ferry crossing to Dartmouth and back (from and to Kingswear) and that I could return by any train. I wouldn’t be crossing to Dartmouth anyway, but returning on the same train.

So I hopped on (er, no – climbed on) and settled in for the trip.

What I’m going to do now is post a few photos of the ride, with a minimum of comment. No more rambling narrations – not till the final event, anyway!

(Sorry about the finger!)

Coming in to Kingswear – that’s Dartmouth over the river.

The engine comes down from the other end to reconnect for the return.

OK – where’s David?

I must get one of those! (When the boat comes in …)

A red lamp! There’s someone … (I told you there was more ‘Ghost Train’ to come!)

Looks like someone’s been bargain hunting!

Paington has some very nice beaches – I wish I’d known that last week!

So what remains? It was no problem to get from Paignton to Killerton in good time. I probably stopped at the Moto services, since they were on the way, then I tried to follow brown NT signs to Killerton House, rather than ask Satnav to find it, but even they weren’t visible when needed once or twice. No problem parking at Killerton, and the buggy service was available to get those who needed the service to the ‘theatre’, or nearly.

As we know, “the play’s the thing ….” – it’s a quote from Hamlet, so what of it? It’s a very long play; it could take between four and five hours to perform, according to scholars. It is always cut, but this group of seven male performers shredded it to less than two hours, racing through what was left of Shakespeare’s script at breakneck speed!

I could go on – I often do about Hamlet!

The journey home on Wednesday 24th July was uneventful, apart from one 20 minute delay – a complete standstill on M5, and once at home, I ate the one remaining boiled egg, which had survived the week! Smudge seemed pleased to see me, but he had been well looked after by my neighbour, Tracy, and a couple of visits from Chris.

If I had to sum up this trip in one word it would be ‘disappointing’ – but with the rider ‘there were some good moments’.

Here’s one last photo:

“Last scene of all, which ends this strange, eventful history ….” (That’s from ‘As You Like It’, but it fits …)

Visitors to Garth View and / or Sunejo (our homes in Cumbria and France) might recognise this picture:

It’s a painting of Brixham fishmarket and it belonged to Carol’s father. When the family had to empty the house in Potter’s Bar, no-one else wanted it, so Carol brought it to our house and we hung it. It says on the back that it’s by Wilfred Fryer and was exhibited at the Royal Society of Marine Artists. I really don’t have anywhere to hang it here, so I thought of taking it down to Devon and seeing if any shop or gallery was interested in it, especially in Brixham. However, I didn’t feel I had the necessary materials or the skill to pack it safely, and wasn’t confident about putting it in the car along with everything else. So I took its photo, and one of the back as well.

Tuesday July 23rd. The last full day of this trip, not counting the journey home. I set off for Brixham, setting Satnav to take me to the Strand Art Gallery, which she did, but I didn’t realise we were there. I hadn’t looked carefully enough at the pictures of the outside to understand that what I was really looking for was a discreet entrance at the side of an amusement arcade! The gallery was upstairs above that arcade.

So I went twice round the harbour and the town, till I spotted a car park which I thought might be close enough (and it had the ‘necessary places’). I found the way in, paid for a few hours, and made my way back to the harbour on foot. I passed the ‘discreet entrance’ at least twice before I realised I was there and went in and up the stairs.

Well! What a place, and what a reception! Two large rooms, and the stairway as well, covered with every kind of local artwork! Seascapes, buildings, people, boats, ships, all weathers – I’m not sure that the highland cattle were really local, but they get everywhere! And the charming lady! On seeing the photograph, she exclaimed “Oh, that is beautiful! Why on earth would you want to get rid of that?” I said that wasn’t really my feeling about it, but I wanted to make better use of it that having it leaning against the wall in the little spare room, unhung. She didn’t know Mr. Fryer, but she looked him up for me, and the Royal Society of Marine Artists, of which she printed out details and suggested that might be the best place to start my further enquiries. In spite of her enthusiasm for the piece, she said she didn’t want it, even if I were able to get it to her, as she had all the paintings she could manage.

I went back out into the sunshine. Just over the road from the gallery was this piece of history:

That is Francis Drake’s ship, the Golden Hind. It was possible to visit it and look round, but I was more interested in choosing the most suitable place, out of all the options available, for a fish or seafood lunch. I walked the length of the harbour wall, looked at lots of places and lots of menus, and settled for a little hut with outdoor seating on the edge of the harbour. Most of the restaurants were across the road, and this little place was actually a subsidiary of one of them, it was called ‘Claws’ and the spot over the road was ‘Claws Indoors’.

I chose a small seafood selection, served with two slices of brown bread:

THEN – an incident reminiscent of one beside Grasmere many years ago, when a little Rachel had her sandwich stolen from her hand by a swooping seagull! Yes! This flying fiend came suddenly from behind, over my shoulder and snatched BOTH slices of bread, which it took away to a nearby moored ship and fed them to its fledglings!

So how come there’s one slice of bread in the photo? This was taken after the young ladies staffing the place had done what they could to help, with the comment “you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last!”. They replaced the bread free of charge, and offered to raise the parasol which until then had been folded. They thought it might thwart any further attacks, and it seemed to work. It was a nice little meal, and afterwards I crossed the road to Claws Indoors where there was no problem about using the ‘necessary place’.

Now, I think this post has been long enough, so I’ll proof read now and publish. Can’t say whether ‘Chuffer and Hamlet’ will merge into one post, or whether another division will be needed, so:

WATCH THIS SPACE!

Got there this time! (Monday 22nd July) First thing was to find a car park for the Quay – and pay for it! Then make my way down to the riverside, buy the paper, and have a glass of iced coffee outside a café / antique shop:

Definitely the best non-alcoholic drink of the trip – no contenders! Did a quick browse of the antiques – no bargains! Something seemed to have changed since 2010; it was not possible this year to walk from where I was along the riverside to the busier part of the Quay. One of the eating / drinking establishments seems to have built a veranda out over the path and obliged people to walk round on the street side, unless customers. So I did that and got to where a boat trip was about to depart:

Now, who knew that Exeter has a Ship Canal? The oldest canal in England, we were told. I said I thought Manchester might have something to say about that, not to mention Leeds and Liverpool. I haven’t researched it since.

Anyway, after a short stretch of river boating, were turned off into the Ship Canal, where approaching the first bridge, it looked a bit challenging!:

We can’t get under there! No, not with it like that – two young men (crew) have to hop off the boat when it gets close to the wall on the right, release and relocate the barriers to prevent traffic crossing, then push the bridge physically round to the open position to let the boat through. Reverse the procedure once we were through and hop back on!

This canal is much wider than the ones usually travelled by narrow boats. There were some interesting craft at the side:

I said “I don’t think they’ll ever refloat it!”. Returning towards the Quay, we went through the last bridge, and emerged back onto the river:

It was lunch time. Today’s eating pattern was different: the nearest pub / restaurant to the guest house is a Chinese, within walking distance for some (not me!). It had just reopened after refurbishment, and on Mondays they do a buffet! So I was going to delay the main meal of the day till the evening. More later. I had to get back to the car (time running out), but after climbing the same steps and stairs by which I had come down, I couldn’t find it! Signage seemed inadequate, and I couldn’t identify the door through which I had come off the ‘deck’ into the stairway! I managed in the end by going onto the deck below where the car was and retracing my way, on foot, which I had driven earlier.

So where did I go to eat? No!! I wouldn’t, would I? Yes!! I would and I did – onto the motorway at J29 and off again at the service area! Cool bag now being less useful, except for that chilled drop of wine, I bought a sandwich at M & S or Smiths – can’t remember which.

So then what? Back into Exeter, and I tried to get Satnav to take me back to that area where I had fallen asleep in the rain on Saturday. It was inaccessible, closed off for road works. I cruised around a bit, believing, but not sure, that I was close to the cathedral and found a kerbside parking space. Payment by RingGo or coins. The signage offered one or two hours, but when I tried to pay RingGo for two, it said that wasn’t allowed! I didn’t have sufficient coins. The nearest shop – right there – was a sports / fitness equipment shop. A young man was seated at a desk with no customers. I told him the issue and asked if he could help me with coins. He couldn’t. Seeing my situation and state of stress he said “Look, if you’re sure to be back within two hours, you can use my space – I don’t use it”. This was a designated space on a private area at the side of the building. How kind of him!

So I moved the car and set off on foot to find the cathedral, which could not be seen, though only four minutes away according to Google. Soon I was on the ‘green’ in front of the cathedral, and at the side there was a kiosk selling drinks. I was warm enough to fancy another iced coffee. Not as good as the first, nowhere near! I looked across at the façade and reflected that I had never seen so much statuary which showed no sign of protestant vandalism!

It’s a splendid edifice, and I went inside – you have to pay – and walked round the interior, but didn’t really make time to study the stained glass, of which there is a lot, nor other potentially interesting pieces. This was not through lack of time, but inability to stand comfortably for long periods.

So it was back to the car, and out of town to the guest house to change clothes for the evening. The Chinese Buffet was pleasant, but different from the one we used to have in Huddersfield (so sad it didn’t survive the pandemic). There were no chefs cooking to order or behind counters, just a room with tables round the edge on which were heated casseroles containing an assortment of dishes but not much variety or special interest.

I thought I might include Tuesday in this post – hence the title, which I like the sound of! But it’s been long enough (too long?) and there’s a lot to tell about Tuesday, so I’ll leave the ‘Et Cetera’ till next time: Brixham, a Chuffer, and Hamlet.

(And a Sunny Sunday in Salcombe)

A happy memory from 2010 made me want to revisit the Quay at Exeter and possibly also the cathedral, which we (Carol & I) didn’t see on that occasion. A highlight was feeding some very tame pigeons, who were not only willing to come to take food from your hand, but to pose for photos as well!

So I decided to visit Exeter on Saturday 20th July, and to make time during the visit to try to get on ‘Any Answers’ in response to an issue raised on ‘Any Questions’ the previous evening. The weather had changed from the heat of the previous days; in fact it deteriorated into some serious rain.

I came across a Beefeater pub, and thought I could spend some time there with the crossword and puzzles from the day’s paper, and also have an early lunch. I chose beef and ale pie – nothing special.

Then I let Garmin try to guide me to the cathedral, and she (it) took me into a park area amongst buildings which might have been close to the cathedral. Roadside parking was by RingGo, so I paid for a few hours but it was now time to call the radio programme. They were interested, apparently, in what I had to say about the House of Lords (it represents me more than the other place does, quite often, and that other place, elected or not, doesn’t represent ‘the People’ at all). They called me back and asked me to stand by to go on air. HOWEVER, on this occasion, and I can’t remember a similar one, the entire system for connecting callers to the presenter broke down completely and the programme was abandoned! I fell asleep.

The rain was too heavy for me, on waking, to contemplate finding my way on foot from where I was to the cathedral, so I gave up. Visiting the quay was no more tempting. I’d seen posters for a concert by a local male voice choir in Exmouth that evening, so I thought I’d drive down there and give it a go. I parked up for a short time on the Esplanade – long enough to have my picnic in the car, but when it came to deciding, I didn’t really fancy sitting in a church for a couple of hours listening to music which may or may not have appealed to me, so I headed for ‘home’.

For old times’ sake I wanted to visit Salcombe and Dartmouth. The weather had improved again on Sunday so I set off down there. It was very busy in Salcombe but I got a space in a small car park beside the harbour. Time was limited, so I decided not to wait for Moules Marinières at a waterside café just by the car park, but instead I indulged in an expensive, but disappointing, crab sandwich from a shop round the corner. Least good meal of the trip – no contenders!

Honestly, to my mind, Salcombe has been spoilt:

I remember it from the seventies as a beauty spot, but that’s not how it appears to me now. Too commercialised, too many craft, too many dinghies.

Disappointed, I moved on to Dartmouth. A bit better, I thought:

I got lucky with parking, and wandered about a bit. I saw posters about the Dartmouth Steam Railway, and there was a booth giving info and selling tickets. Their ‘top buy’ was a Round Robin, including the train ride, a river trip, and a coach to get back to your starting point – probably Totness. I wanted to do it the next day, but the river cruise doesn’t go on a Monday! Tuesday seemed a bit risky to me because of the need to be back at Killerton for the evening.

While ‘wandering’ I found this memorial about D-Day sailings. I didn’t know that Dartmouth had been used as a departure point.

That’s not a good photo, unfortunately. I had to take it obliquely because a couple of seniors were sitting on their fold-up chairs directly in front of the memorial and didn’t take any notice of an old man try to take its picture. But anyway, the plaque spoke to me because of its message. I was irritated in June this year when some folk tried to hi-jack the D-Day 80-year commemoration by linking it to the election campaign, and accusing paper spoilers such as me of letting their fathers / grandfathers down who fought for Democracy, so that I could have the vote. No, they didn’t! Having visited some of the Normandy beaches, and spoken to French people who were there, I know the invasion was not for any notion of Democracy, but for La Liberté. (Freedom) The plaque says it all.

Dartmouth has three ferries across the river. This one:

which takes foot passengers across the river to and from Kingswear, where the railway station is, and two car ferries, known as the higher and the lower. I chose to cross on the higher. There was a bit of a wait – not unlike Bowness – but once on board we were required to stay in our vehicles, with no view of the river so nothing worth photographing!

After the car ferry, I headed north towards Exeter and a search for a picnic site proving as unsuccessful as ever, guess where I ended up? – Yes! – the Moto service area just North of M5 J30:

This time I climbed the hill which makes up most of the picnic site, having noticed that if you did that, you might find a table in the shade! Unfortunately, in spite of the fresh ice pack each day, the cold potatoes brought from home were no longer fit for consumption. I think I bought a packet of crisps to go with the (hard boiled) egg – egg n chips, eh?

Back at the Grange, I was able to watch most of the film version of ‘The Ghost Train’, with Arthur Askey. (Meaning he was in the film, not watching it with me!) To a ‘Ghost Train’ addict since teenage, it’s a bit of a travesty, but it filled the time.

What’s next? Exeter Quay and cathedral at the second attempt, a visit to Brixham, a ride on the chuffer and ‘Hamlet’ at Killerton. It might all get into one chapter, or it might not!

This is the Dartmouth higher ferry, taken from the train, two days later:

It’s Friday 19th July (2024) and I’m determined to get to a beach with clean water! Memories of one or two holidays from the early seventies have led me to look up Bigbury-on-Sea, and yes, all is well there regarding the quality of the water.

So I put the postcode into Satnav and after retrieving the ice pack which was frozen overnight, we get en route. At one point on a fairly narrow lane with high hedges there’s a 20 minute delay as two large vehicles going in opposite direction come face to face (headlight to headlight?) and traffic immediately stacks up behind them. Once that was over, Garmin seemed unable to distinguish between unclassified roads and A roads, constantly telling me to follow A 3121 when we’d already left it!

So I was delighted after much wriggling and weaving around lanes without views, finally to come over a brow and see the spit of sand which separates Bigbury from Burgh Island. So delighted that I was keen to pull over and take its photograph:

(The phantom fingers are a reflection of the gloves which I keep on the dashboard – I didn’t realise.)

That sand is visible and available at low tide, but is covered by the sea around high tide, necessitating the use of the sea tractor for those wishing to cross to or from the hotel or the pub on the island, or who have gone for a walk round the island and got cut off.

I went on down and investigated the car park, but I didn’t want to park up and head for the beach just then as it was (nearly) lunch time. Searching on line, I had found several possible places, and was particularly tempted by The Oyster Shack. You can find lots of pictures of this fairly rustic place, and their produce, simply by searching ‘The Oyster Shack Bigbury’. I trusted Garmin to get me there, and I arrived at 12.20. The greeting was pleasant and smiley – ‘What can we do for you, sir?’ – ‘Well, I was thinking I might have lunch’. They didn’t serve lunch till 12.30, but I was happy to sit in the sun and wait, with a glass of refreshingly cold white wine. The menu with all its options was explained to me and I chose to have just six oysters. These were served on a plate of ice (containing crushed ice, not made of ice!) and they were another contender for best meal of the trip. Expensive, with the wine, but I enjoyed it.

I made my way back to Bigbury, with the intention of having some beach time, including a dip in the sea. Parking was a problem (the word ‘nightmare’ also springs to mind). It had to be done by ‘Pay by Phone’ – not RingGo which I’m fairly familiar with by now. I wasn’t the only one struggling with it! Phone signal was weak which didn’t help, obviously, but eventually I sorted it and paid for 4 hours. Then I made my way down to the beach, not where the sea might cover the sand, but this one:

When I went down to it, there was a lot more sand available than on the photo and both the sky and the sea were a perfect blue. The photo was taken after I had left the beach. I found a suitable spot, spread out my beach mat (a convertible bag – been a boon for years!), and tried to take appropriate precautions against sunburn. You know, anointing yourself all over with factor whatever, isn’t easy! I did miss a few bits and it showed, but nothing too drastic. Then I headed for the water; yes, I went IN. Back at the mat, I fell asleep for a little while. Waking up, I decided another dip would be a good idea, but on returning, I realised that getting back to the steps leading up to the car park wouldn’t be possible without paddling! So I did that.

That’s when I decided to go to a viewpoint and take photos of the sea tractor leaving Burgh Island:

and returning to the mainland:

Btw: Burgh Island was a favourite spot for Agatha Christie, and two of her well known stories were set there, including ‘And Then There Were None’. To learn more of this search ‘Burgh Island Agatha Christie’.

It was now time to decide where to go next and have my picnic ‘tea’. I looked online for picnic sites and this was when I discovered how few sites there are in this area with parking and tables. I saw one and tried to find it. Either it doesn’t exist or the signage is inadequate. I did get to a nice viewpoint on a NT property, and there I began to regret not having packed my folding table as well as the chair. I gave up and headed for ‘home’. This led me to the southern end of the M5, and between J30 where it ends, and J29 (for my guest house), there is a Moto service area which actually includes a picnic site!

This was the ONLY picnic site I found all week! At this time, Friday 20th July, the food I had brought from home was still useable so I enjoyed my hard boiled egg with potatoes and mayonnaise, and, of course, a tiny bottle of white wine. There might have been some cheese and grapes as well. Naturally, a picnic site on a service area does give one access to other facilities, which, in Esperanto, we call necessary places!

So I got back to my little bedroom at the Grange Boutique Hotel in time to listen to ‘Any Questions’ – an activity which had repercussions the next day!

Next up – a Soggy Saturday in Exeter!