Instow 2018 – Earthquakes and Sand


Drove to Instow House. Same as when we left it, including the copy of Hidden Faces which I’d left on the bookshelf.
Ate dinner at Instow Arms, which clever Husband had booked before we left home. We ate early (7pm) but it was packed. I had creamy garlic mushrooms, which arrived in a bowl, like soup, and was delicious, followed by fish pie. Also delicious, but after a while I felt overly full of cream. Not a good choice by me.
Walked on beach with Kia, who went completely bananas. She reverts to puppy on beaches, stopping regularly to dig holes.
Watched tv, went to bed.

Day Two

Woke up to sound of seagulls and waves. Went to make tea and let dog into garden. Quite a lot of beach now seemed to be in kitchen.
Drove to Saunton Sands. Husband suggested another walk to beach across dunes, but as I had left my bullet-proof vest and crash helmet at home (see blog from Jan 17 https://anneethompson.com/2017/01/30/a-walk-on-the-wild-side/ ) I declined. Drove safely to carpark, not shot at once, and no sign of tanks or machine guns. Which is what most people might expect. (See Jan 17 blog. I still have not completely recovered…) Brilliant walk on miles of sand, beautiful sunshine, sky reflected on wet beach. Perfect.
Saw a Mermaid’s Purse, and commented to Husband that Son hadn’t believed it held shark’s eggs on a recent beach trip. Found myself having the exact same argument/discussion with Husband, who insisted it was clearly made from plant matter, and was therefore a type of seaweed. Told him to Google it. He did. Turns out I was right (obviously, or I wouldn’t be telling you this!) Heard those rare words : “Gosh, you were right. I was wrong.” Pretended I couldn’t hear, so he had to say it twice (might never have it said again, tis a rare event indeed…)
Walked for about 90 minutes. Returned to car, and found a Yorkie bar I stashed there months ago. Double perfect.
Drove along coast to Croyde. Husband told me that it’s where Kevin Hallam used to go for his family holidays. I don’t know who Kevin Hallam is, so was not terribly interested. Was then told about Kevin’s family, Warhammer, English degree at Oxford, and that he drove into Husband’s Beetle when they were 17. But the countryside was pretty, so I let him talk (for quite a long time actually. If you know Kevin, do say Hi from me).

Lunch at cottage, followed by an earthquake. Nope, this is not an innuendo, we really did have an earthquake. Apparently the epicentre was in Swansea and it measured 4.9. The cottage was unhappy at being shaken, and new cracks appeared. No reaction from dog at all (too exhausted from exciting beach walks).

 

 

Drove to Appledore, which is the village we can see across the estuary. It was full of coloured cottages, information signs and windowsills full of tat. Honestly, if you like stuffed parrots, and pots, and suits of armour, and knitted toys, then you will love the windowsills of Appledore. Some wit had decided to make their own signs, so we passed a chip shop (deliveries to Paris, New York and Appledore) the house where Barbie and Ken lived, and the Beaver Pub (where nothing happened in 1782). There was also a dry dock, which Husband found very interesting (it’s a male thing, not worth looking at unless you are male).

I was keen to find a church for Sunday. There were a lot of churches and chapels. I am quite a connoisseur of churches, so perused the notice boards. Rejected the Bethel chapel (not sure they would welcome someone wearing jeans). Rejected the C of E, despite very cool tower, as the service was communion (a minefield for mistakes in a foreign church). Rejected another chapel as being too far up a hill. Decided the Baptist church looked safe, despite the plaques advertising groups which must’ve been in place about 100 years ago. But there was a photo of a band (so jeans would be okay) and they ran an Alpha course – so probably like new people.
However, when driving back to cottage, we passed a tiny church, just round the corner. It had an 11am service (not communion) and they run a mid-week lunch club. Decided I would give it a try. Will let you know…

 

 

Thank you for reading.
Take care,

Love,
Anne x

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A Walk on the Wild Side…


img_0963So, Husband announces he wants to walk ‘somewhere prettier’. We’re on a mini-break in Devon, staying in a cottage practically on the beach, but we haven’t actually seen much of the ‘typical’ North Devon scenery. You know, the rolling hills with tiny fields and lots of green.

I thought our village was pretty perfect, but I try to be accommodating, so I said he could choose. This was a mistake.

Firstly, he scurries off with the map and plans a walk which, for some unknown reason, needs to be a secret. I am to have no input at all as to where we go. At this stage, I thought this was fine, a nice surprise, no danger involved or anything like that.

Then we pack the dog and boots into the car, and off we go, heading towards Barnstaple. After a while, we left the main roads and drove along ever narrowing lanes. When the satnav stopped naming them, and then stopped showing them at all (so it looked as if the car was heading through space) I should have been warned. But I wasn’t (I am very easy-going, cheerfully gullible, things like that.)

We arrived at a carpark. The bridleways beyond were fenced, with gates and styles for access. There were, I will admit, a couple of signs, warning the military used the area. But there were no “Keep Out” signs, no locks on the gates, no signs that said “Danger”. None that I saw anyway. So on we marched.

We quickly came to undulating sand dunes, grassy areas, and marshy ponds. It was rather lovely. We headed off, towards where we thought the coast was.img_0965

It was then that I spotted some runners, way off in the distance. They were all wearing white tee-shirts, and I thought perhaps these were the army training exercises. Nice place to run, next to the sea. As I watched them, I realised there was another group, slightly nearer to us, wearing camouflage gear. And firing guns. This felt less safe.

Husband assured me they were probably ‘outward-bound types’ or shooting blanks, and we were fine, we just needed to avoid walking in front of where they were aiming. I sort of believed him. After all, the military wouldn’t shoot in an area used by dog walkers, would they?

A little later, as we skirted the men firing guns, to climb other dunes in our quest to find the sea, we saw some military vehicles. They had their headlights on, and were coming towards us at speed. I wondered if we were going to be arrested. But they zoomed off in another direction before they reached us.

Then we heard machine guns firing. At this point, I got stroppy. I told Husband I was very unhappy and felt uncomfortable about being fired at, and I wanted to go back to the car. He agreed. Trouble was, we were lost.

We had made so many detours, it was hard to remember even which direction we had come from. The area was huge, in different circumstances (ie, not being fired at) it would’ve been lovely. After wandering for a while, Husband looked at phone to see if it had a map. It did. It also showed our position, and where we had parked the car (clever phone).

We made it back to the car, neither shot nor arrested. We did see a few signs that we missed on the way in though….

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xxxxxxx

Thank you for reading.

Tomorrow I’ll tell you about the rest of our holiday (nothing quite as exciting. Thankfully.)

xxxxx

anneethompson.com