Blighty Bound - Day Fifteen, By The Seaside

 

A late start had us motoring over to Exmouth, very familiar ground for me as my parents lived there for many years, and prior to that we all lived just about ten miles away for many more years. We were off to visit my side of the family, and to stroll the seafront there, as that's always a pleasant experience. Following that, we were slated to head over to another seaside town, Torquay, for a chinwag with DW's family.

The weather was certainly set fair. The run across the River Exe and down it's eastern side was lovely, all bar the traffic queue getting into Exmouth itself. I had forgotten the roadworks on the Dinan Way extension, so we sat in a long line of cars for ten minutes or so while everyone negotiated the section of single lane running. I made a mental note to take another route out of the town.

We pitched up in St Andrews Road, down in the old part of town, and spent a happy day with said family members. We ate at an Italian-style restaurant on the Strand, then strolled along the refurbished seafront to Maer Rocks, and the RNLI Lifeboat Station. Given that it was a weekday, there were still a lot of people about, although the very fine weather was the obvious reason for the crowds. There were people on the beach, some even in swimsuits, which is quite unusual for late March in England. Being the Spring Equinox, the tide was out a long way, making the beach look even bigger than usual. Severe winter storms had altered the beach quite a bit, though, with the sand dunes completely disappeared, but Maer Rocks mostly covered with sand. Maybe the dunes moved? Exmouth is prone to the occasional reshaping of the beach, largely because it is subject to big storms in the winter, but also because the River Exe flowing into the sea there can do some strange things with silt and sand. 

The Lifeboat Station was looking lovely in the sunshine, and the small inshore lifeboat was launched while we were there, although it looked more like an exercise rather than an emergency given the lack of haste the launch team displayed. The Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) operates lifeboats, and now lifeguards, all around the coast of Britain. It's a charity that receives no direct government funding and relies almost entirely on donations to operate. We have always felt it a worthwhile cause, even though we've thankfully never needed its services, so we do donate and that was why we were there today. Money was spent in their very fine gift shop. If you've never heard of the RNLI, here is a link to their website: RNLI

Exmouth has changed a lot in recent years, but it's mostly for the better, albeit that I had to pay 40p for Jimmy Riddle in a bowl that the unit's previous user had not flushed. Still, it was an excellent visit, as most trips to Exmouth are.

Heading to Torquay, I went "over the common" rather than take the Exeter Road, to avoid the queues at the roadworks. Over the common means a drive over Woodbury Common, an area of high ground just to the north of the town. It has few trees but lots of Gorse and Bracken, and has commanding views of East Devon and of the Exe Estuary right up to Exeter. The trouble was that the Gorse was very tall, and when we could see over it, it was very hazy, so no commanding views, really. It was a nice run, though, but took a fair bit longer than I'd anticipated. But we didn't get stuck in the traffic.

We did get stuck in the traffic at Newton Abbot, though, where a car had broken down at the side of the road. The AA recovery van was part of the cause of the delay, as was the Police car with its blue lights on. The broken down car was off the road!

In Torquay, we took an interesting although not unpleasant route to our destination, and then I was deputed to assist with the purchase of fish and chips, which entailed being driven to a tangle of streets in West Torquay and waiting in a very long line. It was for family, though, so no problem.

A nice evening ensued, although we left Torquay very late, and I was on my last knockings by the time arrived home. Tomorrow's events are also family related, but I'm sure I will have something to write about.

Blighty Bound - Day Fourteen, Some Apple Success

 

This day was marked down as a "help the folks" day, transferring some apps from an old iPad to a shiny new Kindle Android tablet, but first we were on a mission.

When we'd arrived in the UK, we'd dropped DW's dad's Army medals in at a place called The Bigbury Mint, where they were going to clean them, replace the ribbons, and mount them in a presentation frame. Today we went to pick them up, and goodness what a good job they'd done. The run down to Ermington, just south of Ivybridge was OK, but the mile or two to the village was on those lovely narrow Devon roads, and there seemed to be a lot numpties about this fine morning. In order to make any progress, you have to drive co-operatively, backing off when the road gets too narrow to pass oncoming cars, and not being a dick about it. Today people were not being too co-operative. I was not happy.

This time at the Bigbury Mint, we drove down the vertiginous hill to the workshop rather than walk, and that cheered DW up no end. As I said, the medals had been prepared, and the woman at the workshop showed us how the medals were mounted in the case, and how to remove them so they could be worn. If you have any medals you want refurbishing, I can heartily recommend the Bigbury Mint.

On the way to Roborough, we stopped at Chris' Crafts again and picked up a few little bits and bobs for Charlie's model railway, then we drove around to the Plymouth Barbican and ate our picnic lunch while overlooking the entrance to Sutton Harbour, and Millbay. Although windy, the sun was shining and it was a very pleasant pause in the day.

Up with the folks in Roborough, I managed to successfully port an Apple iCloud email account onto the Android Kindle, which I was quite pleased about. They claim security, but the process that Apple demands in order to run an iCloud account somewhere other than on an Apple device is painful. Still, it was mission accomplished. I even paired up some Bluetooth earbuds to the Kindle, so I was on a roll. I also looked at updating the map on one of their car's navigation system. It's a Garmin, in a Honda, the same as we have back home, but whereas I've been able to update ours regularly, Honda UK says that the updates have to be performed by the dealer. Ah well, nice try.

We headed home at about 8:30, not least because we were both absolutely shattered. These past two weeks have been catching up with us. That didn't stop us staying up to watch the BBC's Question Time programme on TV, which was more a political debate than anything else. We did get to laugh at the knobishness of the Reform Party spokesman though, as did the audience. 

Tomorrow is a visit with my family, and hopefully a walk along the beach at Exmouth. The weather's looking set fair, so it ought to be a good day.

Blighty Bound - Day Thirteen, Somerset

 Today was for exploring, for family tree work, and for family, so a busy schedule.

We had planned to visit Bishops Lydeard in West Somerset, as some of DW's rellies hailed from there, and then to motor on up to Wedmore to visit with DW's nephew and his wife. As we were going to be in Somerset, I suggested that we visit the medieval village of Dunster, which isn't a million miles from Bishops Lydeard. At the last minute, we flipped the plan, so were were to go to Dunster first, Bishops Lydeard second, then finally Wedmore, and that turned out to be an inspired decision.

So it was that we found our selves coming off the northbound M5 at Tiverton and taking the North Devon Link Road towards Exmoor National Park. The route that the navigation mapped out for us looked a wee bit squiggly, and so it proved to be. At Bampton we joined the steep sided valley of the River Exe and followed it's snaking course for mile after mile. The road was narrow and twisty, and there some precipitous drops down to the water at times, where the road climbed away from the narrow valley floor. Water meadows hugged the river, the steep sides of Exmoor closed in and the whole route was dotted with little thatched cottages, straight out of fairy tales. Oh, and the Pheasants, seemingly hundreds of the things. 

It was a lovely drive, even if I had to be at my driving best to avoid going off the road at every sharp turn. The navigation system sent a couple of confusing messages and at one point we ended up climbing away from the river, and then being set on a route to recover the original road. That was all fine and dandy except that the route contained a weak bridge that had a width limit of 6' 6". I demurred and chose not to take that route and I'm glad I didn't, because it turns out that the rented car was 6' 3" wide without the mirrors, and 6' 11" with the mirrors. That was way too tight for me to risk it, even with folding mirrors. In the end I turned around and retraced our route to get back to where I'd originally gone wrong. I compounded the error by immediately taking another wrong turn, but this time I didn't bother with the alternative route; I found a turning spot, and went back to the road we were supposed to be on.

As we slowly closed in on Dunster, the navigation system kept trying to send us on the route intended for heavy goods vehicles, away from the gorgeous valley floor, but I stuck to the road that was signposted to Dunster and in due course we arrived at our destination. Never forget, the Satnav is only a navigational aid, not necessarily the final word; discretion is your friend!

I'm not going to say too much about how lovely the village was, especially in the sun that shone in a clear blue sky, suffice it to say that I can see why the place is so popular. We found parking at the North End of the main street (GBP2.50 for two hours, which is at the low end of the scandalous parking charges in Britain), and took a slow walk back to the village's famous main street. With a castle at one end and a folly at the other, the broad street looked like a postcard picture.

We ambled down, past the castle, and fell upon an antiques shop that we thought might provide a little housewarming gift for DW's nephew. The lady in the shop was very nice, but very loud. So loud, in fact, that I had to turn my electric ears down a bit.

Heading back towards the car, the castle grounds provided us with some toilets and a National Trust gift shop, which were both well received. It was a bit pricey to actually go into the castle, especially as time was limited, so we spent some money in the gift shop instead, always happy to show willing. A slow walk back up through the village was made slower by some more money spending in one of the local shops, and then it was time for a pasty and a cup of coffee from the little bakery right next to the car park. There's not much can beat spreading pastry crumbs down your front in the car while eating a delicious hot pasty. The car, I hasten to add, was not moving at the time.

Apart from the beauty of the village, the big thing about Dunster on this fine day was the lack of people. Yes, it was a midweek day in March, but the weather was glorious and I'd have thought the place would have been throbbing with visitors, but no. It wasn't quite deserted but it was delightfully easy to move around. The lady in the bakery said that it was likely due to the road works just north of the car park, and we were about to find out the truth of that.

Leaving the car park and heading north towards the Minehead road, we immediately hit a line of stationary traffic. It stayed stationary for what seemed like an eternity, and when it did move I realised that the temporary traffic lights were controlling a major intersection, and in each direction they were holding the traffic for quite a long time. The queue on the main road, east and west, was very long; yes, that might make approaching Dunster a wee bit difficult from that end.

Then we were heading south east towards the little town, or large village, of Bishops Lydeard, home to a few more of DW's long-dead rellies. I didn't realise at the time that it's the southern terminus of the fabled West Somerset Railway, one of the original heritage railways in the West Country, running steam for decades. When I mentioned Bishops Lydeard to people, they'd heard of it because of the railway, but I never had.

There's not a whole lot to see in Bishops Lydeard, so we spent some time browsing around the handsome church there, and it's very large graveyard. Generations of DW's family had been christened, married and had funerals there, so it was good to go in and stand on the same floor that they did. It was a touch cold and damp in there, as I found out when I went to sign the visitors book and discovered that it was a fraction away from being wet.

There's an odd feeling when you're doing the family tree thing and going to the same places that your ancestors went to. I like to stand and absorb these places, and wonder what those rellies would think if they could see their old haunts now.

After Bishop's Lydeard, we set the navigation system for Wedmore, some way to the north-east of us, on the other side of the Quantock Hills, a broad eminence in an otherwise flat terrain. Good old Google, it took us straight over the hills, up some steep and narrow lanes. You can always rely on Google to find you a direct route, even if it's down the odd cart track or two, and that's what happened with this route. Halfway to Bridgwater, I was directed down a road with a sign at it's entrance that said "Single track road with passing places". I'd had enough of single track roads with passing places so, remembering that the navigation system is only part of the equation I rebelled and carried on the road I was on. 

The actual sign, on Enmore Road.

Sure enough, we ended up in Bridgwater, even after having been stuck behind a horse box for some miles. It was school kicking-out time, so of course the traffic was horrible. It took forever to find the northbound M5, and when I came to leave the motorway, just a couple of miles further on, there was a queue on the slip road that tailed back onto the fast-moving highway, which was not good, even in what I assumed was a sparsely populated part of rural Somerset.

The road to Wedmore was long and winding (like the Beatles' song), and frequently narrow, but mercifully flat. It crossed the Somerset Levels, a vast area of reclaimed land that resembled The Netherlands in more than a casual way. We had the dubious pleasure of passing the Sexey Arms, a pub in Blackmore, and Sexey's School, surely the best named centre of learning ever. Both are named for Hugh Sexey, a Royal Auditor in the court of Queen Elizabeth I, who was born in the area in the year 1540, although that date is subject to some debate. Who says that this blog is not educational?

We arrived in Wedmore, to visit DW's nephew and his wife, and to approve their new house, but first became slightly befuddled in the maze of little streets in their housing development. Little streets with bends and dead ends are a feature of these developments, to discourage people from driving too fast through them, which isn't a bad idea, except when you take a wrong turning like I did.

A jolly evening ensued, the house was duly approved, and we headed back to Devon quite late, weaving through half-a-dozen sets of road works on the M5; getting work dome before the Easter rush, I think. As the traffic was light, it was no big deal. We were quite tired when we arrived back at Little Orchard, it had been a very long day. But, of course, that's what you do on vacation in March.