It’s a pain being prolific in the pashmina’d Prosecco lands of west Devon.
Compiling posts on my Huawei in Bideford Spoons is slow, despite decent internet.
But you won’t hear me whining, despite oppressive heat, a grazed knee from Appledore, and boy racers at midnight that made me yearn for the peaceful doggers of Tyneside.
I’ve accumulated 358 usable photos already in 2 days on the trip, and you’ll get them all.
Starting with the Hyde Park in Mutley that Sis wouldn’t let me pass.
Now, Sis and I aren’t the closest of siblings, despite a happy childhood marred only by “the incident” involving my propensity to dismember inanimate objects.
But she’s been an angel with Mum and Dad, she introduced me to the joys of the ‘front during her year in Falmouth, and she understands the blog.
While I focused on the grime and Grime of Mutley Plain she compared house prices and sought out the features that would make Mutley liveable.
Like a pub built on a roundabout, like that one in Farnham.
The Landlord was watering the hanging baskets (a bit too high for tickers). Sis ushered me in “for a coffee”.
Well, the outside cannot prepare you for the majesty of the dazzling spectacle inside.
It was like stepping into one of those backstreet Ghent pubs, except they were playing Peter Cetera’s Glory of Love.
Can a Proper Pub ever play Peter Cetera in a non ironic way? That will be one of the 20 mark questions that History students get if they choose to retake their A levels in Autumn.
Sis chose a seat by the entrance to the ladies, which as we’ll see was a good choice.
Part 2 when I get to Ilfracombe Spoons.