Sunday the 6th September, and Summer still in full swing in the English Riviera, its coastal railway unusually intact.
I parked up along the Prom at Teignmouth, another free night putting back a saving of at least £40 into my complex DCF calculation that justifies the campervan.
Baa Baa Toure felt the view was a 9/10, though you can’t actually see the sea from the parking bay as the wall keeps out the water.
It’s 22 years since I came to Cockwood. On a steamy Saturday in August 1998 I took a train from Swindon (why ?) to Torquay to see Cambridge start their promotion season with a Martin Butler penalty winner at Plainmoor.
That year it was the touristy Anchor, this year the touristy Ship, and in 2042 I’ll no doubt be back for a micropub called The Stranded Boat.
Rather gorgeous, it is.
I thought the Anchor looked packed, but the Ship had so many people I had to drink on the layered garden with the pretend cyclists in Helly Hansens and Raybans, so here’s the snatched photo of the interior from the serving hatch.
Actually, those prices aren’t TOO bad for a honeypot village in Devon; and the Tribute was comfortably above NBSS 3.
Something I’ve noticed about Devon and Dorset this last month;
NO CRAFT !
Anyway, uneventful, bar the risk of blokes spilling their San Miguel on the steps up the garden, and the delightful sight of the train rumbling on towards Dawlish.
Which is where I headed next, and where I finally was allowed INSIDE a pub.