The Wayfaring Path

We had four days in Torquay, visiting with a family friend. My auntie Jan and uncle Bernie (“J&B”) lived in Torquay and met Graeme when they were running a second hand bookshop. The three of them became firm friends, and spent many hours walking around Torquay and surrounds, as well as a few bus trips away together. It’s been a few years since I was in Torquay, and sadly J&B are no longer with us. So it was good to go on some long walks with Graeme, walking the same streets that he did with J&B. He was an excellent tour guide, but he will be very disappointed that I don’t remember the names of the places he took us, nor the notable residents he told us about!

Torquay is a hilly place, it’s been a real theme of the trip so far… so we got some good workouts in! There are really distinct areas in Torquay, with noticeably different building styles. There are lots of terraced streets, some beautiful old buildings, and some newer ones that made it feel like we were in NZ! It was once a lovely holiday spot, but has fallen somewhat on hard times lately, and there are some areas of real deprivation and poverty. I think it’s a fairly common thing in the coastal towns, especially after so many years of so-called austerity; which seems to mean politicians ‘preaching water but drinking wine’.

There are lovely waterside areas, and some nice places to eat and drink, but we found ourselves feeling disquieted whenever we were in the main street as there always seemed to be people yelling or stumbling around, at all times of the day and night. Our accommodation was quiet, thankfully; which we put down to us being high up on a hill, and presumably the wasted ones didn’t cope well with the altitude.

We did our usual, working in the morning and then going walkies in the arvo, as well as sharing some meals with Graeme and being entertained by his card magic! Our Airbnb was nice, another annex, but a bit cramped compared to the Pinfarthings one. I’m writing this on Sunday and feeling a bit homesick, for both Pinfarthings and for our actual home. I feel a long way from our cottage, from Lulu, and from family, friends, and familiarity. But that’s ok, moods shift and change, that’s what makes us human. There’s been a lot of ‘ups’ so some ‘downs’ are to be expected.

So I’m home, catching up on tasks, and Regan is out and about, figuring out the bus into Plymouth from our new digs. After leaving Torquay we arrived in Plymouth – another successful train journey, which is helping to restore my faith in the rail system, which was a bit shaken after our trip to Winchester. We had two nights in a hotel in the centre of Plymouth, and it was great to be able to walk places without having to climb a huge hill to get home!

Plymouth was bombed comprehensively in WWII and so from our hotel window we could just see a lot of grey blocky buildings. So far, so uninspiring. But the magic happened when we got down to street level, as there are lots of pedestrian-only streets in the centre of the city, with trees and seating areas. There’s a big project to plant and pave another main street, which apparently has been underway for a long time, but will be really great when it’s done. There’s something very special about the shade from trees on a hot summer’s day, and to be able to experience that in the middle of a city is really great.

Everyone had said the Barbican was the place to go, and they were right! Spared the German bombs, it’s an area of tightly packed heritage buildings on skinny wee streets, with an endless selection of places to eat, drink, and view art. Touristy, yes, but not in a bad way – there seemed to be lots of locals there enjoying the sun and vibes as well as the likes of us photographing and videoing everything!

We split up for an hour to explore on our own and I only made it a few meters up a back street before stumbling upon The Elizabethan House, which is where I stayed. It’s only open on Fridays and Saturdays so I jumped at the chance to look around. Saved from destruction when the tenements were being cleared, it’s a good example of heritage storytelling – every room represented a different era and had a different narrator and story to tell. Really creative and left me feeling like I had an idea what the area might have been like through the ages.

On Saturday morning we were picked up from the hotel by the people we are pet-sitting for, and brought up to the house. They are wonderful people and the house is full of colour and light and creativity. I was so looking forward to being in a real house again rather than an Airbnb (you can never find a pair of scissors in an Airbnb!) but I think it’s making me miss my own house. Or maybe I’m picking up on Pluto (the dog)’s droopiness. He’s missing his parents and obviously feeling very anxious. By contrast is Toast (the cat) who is a kittenish whirlwind of fluff and fury.

We are staying about a 20 minute bus ride from the centre of town, so Regan has gone adventuring and I’m catching up on messages and computer stuff. Although today is a bit of a low mood day for me I’m trying to embrace it, and stay present for the animals who are also feeling a bit discombobulated. I just wish I could have Lulu here too.