Day 1: Dive, dive! dive! in Devon

Well, here we go. What I Did On My Mini-Holidays. Such a meaningful little trip, that has left me with my head whirling with thoughts and images, and oh, such a confusion of feelings, so I shall just start at the beginning and walk through the (edited) highlights. Sit back and be prepared to voice your opinions.

It didn't start well. I had set my alarm clock, double-checked it to make sure, gave myself a generous amount of time to get up and ready, and the next morning found that I'd set it for 6.30, not 5.30, and had exactly 30 minutes to get the early morning essentials done and drive over to Rose's house for us to be taken by her husband David to the airport. The animals looked on in horror as a flying demon whirled through the house hurling their breakfasts into dishes, cursing her own stupidity, rushing out with the dog and exhorting her to relieve herself at high speed, and running for the car without a backward glance at the poor abandoned creatures. Thankfully, the street aunties would be in later to take over and shamelessly spoil them all in my absence.

But we made it. No one cared about the size or weight of our hand luggage. No one noticed that my passport was 7 months out of date. I still haven't told Rose about that.

After a brief and bumpy flight from Newcastle to Exeter, we got into our hired car and drove straight to Sidmouth, the little town that had been my first possibility when seeking somewhere new to live.

Rose had brought her sat-nav device (my first experience of one), to find that it had been programmed by her brother, who liked every sound effect possible, to give an alert to every edifice, service, hazard and natural feature it is possible to pass on the average British road. The alert took the form of an ear-splitting "Woop! Woop! Woop!" as though we were submariners preparing to dive.

It took Rose until day 3 to remove them all, so for a time, we were alerted at full volume to: tree at side of road; traffic sign; church; telephone kiosk; council building ahead; small scrap of litter in hedgerow; imaginary friend in distance. And so many more... so many! At first we laughed, then we puzzled, and then Rose began to speak irritably to the device. She would sort it out later, she said - although she was to find that the sat-nav had other ideas about that. It was frightening to see how quickly a small plastic box was invested with a life and will of its own, a character and a personality, and deliberate intent to drive us mad.

But lovely Sidmouth didn't disappoint. The weather was changeable, but mild; the sharp, bracing (skin-exfoliating) sensation we are so used to up here when we step out into north-eastern sea air doesn't seem to happen in the south.

We had rain.

We had sun.

We had a walk through the town, stopping for tea and toasted teacakes, hot and generously buttered (as a scone maker myself, I don't go for cream teas, as a rule). We watched the crashing waves, and I fell in love with the place. Every other person was a well-wrapped-up old lady with at least one dog; there seemed to be hardly any men around. I would fit right in, I thought.

After strolling, admiring, counting the mobility scooters that Rose had warned me would be out in droves, we set off for where we were going to stay for the next three nights. We were delighted to find a Waitrose en route, and stocked up on the things we'd need for Rose to cook lovely homely dinners for the dark quiet evenings ahead.

The sat-nav directed us along the aptly-named Dark Lane

To an old converted barn overlooking fields

It had a whopping great door key (too big to accidentally take home with you in your pocket)

And a whopping great porch light

And it belonged to this beautiful old house (C.1600) and its welcoming owners

It had something of interest to see from every window

A tiny thatched cottage tucked mysteriously between house and barn

A busy little wren in the creeper, too quick for me to photograph

Lots of space inside, two comfortable, simple bedrooms with bathrooms

And two sofas to loll about on after dinner


And Budleigh Salterton, with its famous Pebble Beds, just down the road

It was quiet; very quiet

And very pretty in the late afternoon sunshine

With the usual chi-chi little shops. We looked in, of course. We may even have made a small purchase

This is where John Everett Millais painted 'The Boyhood of Raleigh'

It has a thatched museum. Imagine being able to state "I'm a Master Thatcher" when someone asks what you do for a living

Time to go home, to cook lamb and vegetables, and to plan for the next day.