This past week was spent on our summer hollibobs – Torquay, with the wife and kids in tow. The diet, as predicted, was abandoned the moment we left home. I devoured all the finest fried fare Britain can muster – chips, burgers, and anything likely to make a GP shake their head in despair. The culinary highlight (or lowlight) was a trip to the fancy Rockfish restaurant, where I treated myself to the most expensive lobster I’ve ever ordered… which tragically contained less meat than a minnow on a diet.
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| Surprised to see this homeless 'abode' whilst on my coastal run |
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| The most local beach in the background |
In fairness, I did balance all that fried decadence with ample walking and running. We explored an impressive variety of beaches and coves: sandy, pebbly, some with winding tunnels, and others guarded by harbours complete with daredevil jump spots for those brave (or daft) enough. The sea views stretched across to little islands, and the coastal paths were both stunning and – in some parts – unexpectedly home to the homeless.
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| Agatha Christie's domicile |
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| Fancy Fishacre |
We also dipped into a little culture with visits to two National Trust gems – Coleton Fishacre (a house so fancy) and the clifftop bolthole of Agatha Christie herself. The kids’ cultural highlight, however, was spotting “ganja” and “Irn-Bru” flavoured sticks of rock. They also braved the waltzers at the fair, which gave them a greater adrenaline rush than any cliff-top view ever could.
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| A little tiny bit like the Green Dragon back home... |
SJ and I indulged in a delicious Gurkha meal one evening – I opted for a rich, flavoursome goat dish – and on another day we revisited The Green Cow purely because their burgers were among the best we'd ever eaten (and I say that without exaggeration). A little shopping snuck in too, during which I scandalised my family by purchasing a Pinkerton T-shirt that I’m rather fond of.
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| Pinkerton |
My holiday swimming highlight? Sharing the harbour waters with a dolphin – which, let’s be honest, is infinitely better than sharing them with a discarded crisp packet. Harbour jumps were also performed, though mercifully not while wearing my trusty Malaysian sarong (which did make a public appearance on the beach, earning me praise from a random Bangladeshi gentleman). I resisted the urge to wear my mankini on Lyme Regis beach – the world was not ready last time and this time I doubt things have changed.
Our apartment was a gem: coastal views, an easy walk into the town centre and beach – “easy” of course meaning a knee-trembling descent down roughly a thousand steps. The weather was largely glorious, so I’m now sporting a skin tone not unlike my new T-shirt: pink, and radiating.
The trip also saw me tick off my 93rd ParkRun, this one at Torbay Velopark. I finished 176th out of 460 with a time of 26:29 – not bad considering my bloodstream was about 40% chip oil by then. The course was not, as the name suggested, a simple oval. Instead, it looped twice around what looked suspiciously like a BMX track (though suspiciously flat), before heading along a gravel path, looping a field, and returning to the Velopark gates to finish.
And now? Back home. SJ unpacking. Facing the grim reality of work tomorrow. I’d say “roll on the next holiday” – but first I need to walk off approximately eight thousand calories worth of chips...
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