Friday, 16 September 2016

Horsefly Strike in Salcombe

Returning home today - can't say I'm sorry as I'm all South Devoned out. If push came to shove I'd rather live in North Devon. Never even got to unpack the kayaks. That said, the place we've been staying at has been perfect; we needn't have brought anything other than the clothes we stood up in, yet I'm sure that if we'd radioed our sizes ahead we'd have been presented with a complete wardrobe of clothes too.

I don't seem to be able to go away for a few days' holiday without getting bitten by a horsefly - the damned things never touch Hay. Got a fly strike on Wednesday while doing the Bantham slog. I seem to have a worse reaction to horsefly venom than most people and end up with limbs like Popeye's where I'm stung.

Did Salcombe yesterday. I'm convinced ladies can walk into a hairdresser's there and just say; "I want a Salcombe," receiving in return a cut giving you that sun-kissed, wind-tousled look you'd have if you'd just stepped off a yacht in the harbour. On top of that they'd get a free, striped Breton top and a Cath Kidston bag. Salcombe must be the spiritual home of the striped, Breton top.

Hay's convinced the ladies all change from their daytime striped, Breton tops to their evening striped, Breton tops after 6pm when they all start congregating in the local bistros and restaurants.

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