The main purpose of the visit was to revisit the cathedral, to which I shall return on another occasion. Today I report on the bits of the town round about that we took in on the way.
Breakfast served by a cheerful Estonian at the White Hart, notable partly for her pink tattoo running up her left forearm but also for her accent which I had taken for Irish. She explained that this was entirely appropriate as Russians, Estonians and the Irish all share a taste for the bottle.
From there up South Street to inspect the Hospicare book shop (good class stock, managed one purchase, of which more in due course) and the triple fronted Oxfam shop. One front vinyl, one front books and the third general goods. I decided not to wade through the vinyl, although I dare say I could have plugged the odd gap in the collection, and concentrated on the books, with the result that I made one more purchase, plugging a minor gap in the collection of Arden Shakespeare, Timon of Athens, a play about which I know nothing other than that they have done it, or are about to do it, at the Globe. Without me I fear as I find neither their seats nor their productions to my present tastes. (I note in passing that they seem particularly bad at sandals & skirts productions, with their rather portly male leads not looking the part at all).
From there to the cathedral and after that to Waterstones on the Green to see what they could do to assuage my current thirst for information about radio waves, wikipedia not proving very helpful on this occasion. Not altogether sure what I need, but that was not it. But this branch of Waterstones, while having a fine selection of modern paperback fiction and a reasonable small children's department, did not have much else, despite occupying two floors. To be fair to them, they have a much bigger shop at the other end of the High Street.
Out of there to be confronted by some ancient shops, medieval that is, which had been rather garishly restored. Left into St. Micheal's church (the redundant church with a slender brown tower in Cathedral Close, handy for those who didn't like all the music, vestments and incense in the other place), perhaps a little younger but without the garish paint job. By way of compensation there were some interesting monuments, two of which can be seen in the snapshot above left. There were also some old fashioned box pews and a large altar board setting out articles of faith (bottom right), including the bit from Exodus (20:4) which says that 'thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth'. A sentiment of which I am sure the Taliban would entirely approve, but not much observed in this country any more. Notice also the corner of the typically dumnoniorian wagon vault, top middle.
Back to the Whit Hart via the busy Polish shop at the top of South Street where I chose the wrong kabanos. Orange and thin, rather chewy. I think we would have done better with the fatter, redder ones.
Consumed on the sea wall at Dawlish Warren. Calm sea, bright sun and small children playing on the beach. All looking good. Only slightly marred by the large amount of fencing and inhibitory signage erected on the dunes behind the beach by the RSPB. I suppose they have a point given the fragility of the dunes and large number of visitors, but I do rather regret the more relaxed attitudes of yesteryear.
Reference 1: http://www.psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2015/04/britannia.html.
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