In the first of our mini guides to places to go and things to do round our Fair Isle we take a mini view of one corner of Devon. Famed for pasties, cream teas, pensioners and classic undulating English countryside I try to get to the heart of the place.
Well I say to the heart of the place but I only spent 48 hours there so obviously don’t be expecting in depth travel reporting to the standard of, say, Judith Chalmers or that Irish bloke off the Beeb with the scary eyebrows.
Firstly we’ll start with Paignton. Now this was not an intended visit – it was something of an unhappy accident. We had just spent the evening at a place called Broadsands on a deserted stony cove with a ruined castle for company
Finally I spotted a place down a side street which looked okay. Like an overgrown Brewers Fayre type place. Surely to be no men and their pets in there. Well I was correct on that score and they even had Beck’s on draught much to the delight of my other half. Smatterings of civilisation at last we thought. However we didn’t account for the fact that the place would be playing host to drunkards, the kind of which approach you at your table ramble incoherently for an indefinite amount of time as you smile and nod politely whist trying to convey the impression that you want them to, in not so many words, “go the fuck away”. But of course they have no concept of anything and shortly the incoherence descends into insults and mildly threatening hand gestures. So we took an informed decision and decided to get the fuck out of there ourselves. We returned to the first place we had passed over..the one with the dogs, mildly bitter about the fact we had left half a pint of Beck’s each behind, and strolled in. The music was straight out of the seventies as was the décor but hey a round of a Carlsberg Export and a bottle of Kronenbourg cost only £2.60. Yes that’s right! Mercifully we were left in peace to finish our drinks and headed for the dubious pitch black of the bus station where we prayed for the bus to turn up. Which it did. I have never been so pleased to vacate a place in all my life.
There are many ways I can choose to describe this place some of which aren’t polite at all and it seems I have been harbouring rose tinted views about what a place that is supposedly part of the “English Riveria” should be like. The sign that stands on the town Boundaries welcomes you to Paignton “A premier beach resort”. Or something like that.
Well I have been working on some slogans of my own which I feel are more appropriate. Paignton: twinned with Yawnville “Where an hour feels like an eternity of Miss Marple repeats” Or Paignton: “Where it pays to know the bus times like the back of your hand”.
And so on to a rather more pleasant place in this corner of the country. The majority of my admittedly short stay was spent in and around Totnes. A town I had visited as a young whippersnapper but had no serious recollection of. In recent weeks I had learnt more about this small town than I could possibly have anticipated and it was nice to step off a big train – yes BIG TRAINS stop at Totnes station - well I was surprised and suddenly start putting images to the places and people.
It’s a small town, it’s a moneyed town. It’s quite frankly a town where you can’t get property cause the world and his wife wants to live there. I can see maybe why, although had I spent any longer there I may have been climbing the walls instead of the hills that it is situated on. Ahhh yes the hills. If you are averse to them I would kindly suggest that this town is not the place for you, probably Devon in its entirety is not to be quite honest. More or less everything in Totnes is up a hill or down a hill, the down bits are fine but invariably you find you’ll have to go back up it at some point. My advice would be to take a loving and caring partner who will hold your hand and drag you up in the manner of a human husky when it all gets a bit too much. This approach worked rather well for me.
But don’t get the wrong idea about this place, it’s worth the aching thighs, especially the walk up out of the town where you can sit on a bench and look out over the whole of Totnes and it’s neighbouring Bridgetown. Of course if sweeping panoramas of nature aren’t your bag, you can always spend the time ambling (panting) UP and DOWN the high street, window-shopping and people watching. The shops here are obviously expensive, I spied a few windows containing rather lush looking cakes the purchase of which would require me to remortgage my house, but should you ever desire to purchase goods in a shop called the Happy Apple, stocking amongst other things potato crisps made by a man called Burt, this is the spot for you.
Most of the people are townies the kind of which own large black Range Rovers or hippies who wander round with that glazed look on their face. Despite the obvious pretentious aspects of Totnes it also has about it a curious bohemian feel. A place where it’s ok for the Ralph Lauren clad weekenders from the city to mingle with the great unwashed earthy types.
So what’s worth doing in and around Totnes. Well a walk along the River Dart up to Dartington Gardens? I’m not big on flora and fauna but was quite impressed with the ambitious landscapes at Dartington, the trees were something else as well. Or just walk out of the main street down onto the river front, Vert island I believe it’s called, plonk your tired little bones on one of the thousands of benches and watch the boats idling back and forth or the healthy looking happy people, serenely floating around carrying out their everyday routines.
So when you’ve finished making your legs ache like nothing ached before and scaring yourself silly in graveyards you may feel that you would like to be rewarded with a drink or 5. For this I recommend the Kingsbridge Arms in Totnes, yes, again it’s up a hill but if good
And that’s about it because too soon after arriving I had to depart. I didn’t get to see Totnes castle apart from outside the grounds of it. But this didn’t really grate on me as it’s on National Trust land and I have long since held the opinion that the NT are just a scamming conglomerate under the guise of politically correct organisation. “Hey we are at one with nature and culture but to enable us to be so we need 10 of your English pounds anytime you want to visit something we own”.
I am told that you can sneak in, but I can’t pass the whys and wherefores on to you because that’s just not a responsible thing to do. Ahem.
Next week, Leicester and Coventry, if I get out alive.
Izzy Brooks.
pixie@happyandlost.co.uk
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