31 June 2017
Padstow Harbour
We all heard it. V was taking the piss out of a West Country person’s accent on the telly. Having repeatedly told me off for doing so, even when being served by them, she had succumbed.
We jumped in Gloria the Golf and headed for the West Country the morning after getting back from France so had to quickly drop the outrageous French accent for the one that Poldark used to use or those that make great ciderrrrr from tha own arrrples if you follow the drift. We were heading to Padstow. A seaside town made famous by Rick Stein and smugglers and pirates. It is a quick 5-6 hour trip usually. Gloria’s GPS was set to tourist mode and we set off. After an unintended 21/2 hour sightseeing trip through London and its glorious traffic queues and diversions, we made it to something that resembled a motorway but was more like a carpark!
Finally on our way, we hit traffic jams like I haven’t seen in a long time. There were accidents and people out of their cars lying on the road and on their cars. We thought those lying on the road were taking this terrorist pedestrian attack prevention measures a bit far. The traffic whilst mainly going in the opposite direction was caused by those leaving the Glastonbury music festival that finished up the night before (think hairy armpits and smelly). We did drive past Stonehenge but there was no way we were stopping as we would never get going again. The perimeter fence at Stonehenge must now be over a kilometre from the stonemason’s unfinished project so the public get the same view that we did….from the road.
We arrived at Padstow some 8 plus hours later and tried to find our hotel. Tucked down a side street only wide enough for a small car and no parking provided, it took a bit of work to get checked in and then park the car out of town on the top of a hill. Walking back down was a breeze. Tomorrow will be unpleasant to say the least. The old fishing village was quaint and Rick Stein had his name on about 20% of the buildings. There were cream teas and pasties and fish and chips for Africa and pubs for the rest of the world. I have refused to eat my chips with a little wooden fork that they give out, preferring my stubby little fingers every time. Everyone sounded like a pirate and within minutes, V was giggling at them and I had become fluent Johnny Depp ….aye Captain, eyell ‘ave a ciderrrr and a pastie.
Dinner was a honeymoon treat at one of Rick’s eateries….Rick’s Café. He was not there that night but we didn’t starve. The next morning we went to the south coast and had a look at the Eden Project, where in an old quarry, gardens from across the world had been planted under these gigantic domes (like golf balls). This was fascinating and like a real version of the film about life on Mars. We stayed at an old home built in 1860 that night.
A quick trip into London on Thursday saw us at the Borough Market as were thought it safe from terrorists now. Did see a lot of cops and ‘undercover’ security personnel though. An obligatory stop at the Hard Rock café was made before we quickly scurried off before the rush hour idiot’s session started. V’s suitcase is filling. Her wardrobe will be quite fresh by the time she gets home. Party Saturday night, special brunch up some tall building Sunday then we have just two more days in London before we hit France for 11 days.
Ohhhh arrrr, take care.
V and Me
dadionz 