When we awoke on Sunday I felt like I had lost half of my body, my legs were just dead weight, I hadn’t been prepared to walk that far. It made me wonder what I’ll be like when I’m out in the Sahara, and have to walk that distance every day. All I could do was hope that the weather was truly awful and that for the most part we would be confined to the inn.
By the time we had finished another hearty breakfast my good luck was in, wind whistled through the gaps in the old building and rain pelted the thin windows from all sides, there was no way we could really go on another adventure.
We took a quick drive down to Lynmouth, to buy some little souvenirs for friends and family, and then stopped in a cafe for tea, scones and shortbread. The weather was just unrelenting, and although we sat for a while and people watched we knew it was going to be a day where we were best of back at the inn so eventually headed back up the hill and settled in with some tea and biscuits to watch TV. I know that sounds like it isn’t the ideal thing to do when you’re away, but the fact of the matter was I couldn’t have done it with anyone else, and enjoyed it as much as I did with Kate.
Even when we did venture out to a pub that evening (under the promise that we would have lobster which was caught in the local bay) we found it so full of backwards, inbred, stitch-faced basterds that we didn’t feel comfortably and just went to eat somewhere we trusted we wouldn’t be gawped at for not being local.
Having spent a couple of days there I now completely understand why it is such big business in Kate’s house. Her, her siblings, and her parents have such a strong bond with the place, and have so many fond memories and it was really nice to be brought in on that, and to understand all of the references. I felt very lucky and very privileged.