Weekend in Devon

Well, I made it down there. Southwest Trains are brilliant. In fact, it reminds me of travelling by train when I was a child, before the Beeching axe fell on so many local lines. The seats are really comfy, the loos are fine as long as you remember to press the Lock button (first time I used one of these new loos, I only pressed Close and was horrified when someone barged in while my knickers were still round my ankles!), there is a trolley service with sandwiches, water, tea, coffee, and even beer or a weeny tin of gin if you need it, and you pass through stations you've never heard of, through places you never noticed on the map, and gradually, the scenery gets hillier and greener till suddenly you're in luscious Devon.

My daughter and her adoptive mum live in the gorgeous house in the photo, and the front windows look out over the rolling green hills. They have bird feeders everywhere and I have never been so close to a spotted woodpecker. It was right outside my bedroom window, not more than two feet away. Their water comes from a spring and it tastes soft and wonderful, not a trace of chemicals. They have never had the water tested, and they are perfectly healthy. I wish London water tasted as good. I have filled a bottle with it and brought it back.

Saturday was wet, but yesterday morning we took a drive to the small fishing village of Beer. (Excuse the photo showing the sea going uphill, but I was standing on pebbles that sloped sharply down towards the waves.) As soon as I saw it, I wanted to live there, but so does everyone else who ever goes there, so the property prices are sky-high. I filled my pockets with seashells, like I did when I was five.

I have promised to go back in a few weeks' time when the bluebells are in bloom. By the way, my daughter has taken some fantastic photos of the local haunted woods. I shall copy some into a separate entry.