Plymouth, Ho!   Leave a comment

The beautiful south.

On Sunday, Instead of staying at home to watch, on the internet, the worst civil disorder for who knows how long (I was completely oblivious to its happening for a day or two), I got up stupidly early to go to the seaside. Getting up at 7am on a Sunday is at least as bad as rioting and looting, in my book. Especially when you got to bed at two.

Not that missing that sort of current event is a bad thing. First contact with aliens? I’d be miffed. Humans being humans? Film at 11.

Anyway, I left my house, all on its own, undefended (spoiler: it was fine), just after 8am. My sister was driving – this holiday was pretty much the impetus for her new car – and she picked me up before mum. So we then spent half an hour or so at my parents’ (bonus: coffee and pillaging cookies) before finally getting on our way at about 9. They could’ve gone in reverse order and left me in bed for another hour! Sigh.

My sister’s car has a dreamcatcher hung from the rear-view mirror. It seems an odd place to worry about dreams escaping.

We stopped for elevenses, and I had my first McDonalds in ages. Generally it seems a bit pointless; you can buy or make much nicer food for much less money; but, y’know, service station. I had a Legendary Chicken burger (costing considerably more than I’d usually spend on dinner, despite only getting to choose one of salsa or mayonnaise). I’m not quite sure what a chicken has to do to become legendary, but it made a surprisingly tasty burger. Poultreus didn’t die in vain.

Unfortunately, whilst eating, I discovered two things:
1) I’d not turned voicemail off on my new ‘phone.
2) My credit card company thought somebody was fraudulently using my card.

Would you like to guess what’d tripped that? Yes, it was all the fussing and faffing and other sorts of f***ing around trying to top up my ‘phone.
Fortunately, my credit card company have an automated line that verifies these things, and the card (and, unlike when topping up, the line) didn’t stop working. I’m glad one of my service providers is competent and helpful. Even if they do use 0845 numbers.

After finishing our five-hour drive through (mostly) glorious sunshine, we arrived at our hotel – or Plymouth University, as it’s more commonly known (we were commuting to Cornwall; it seems odd that we couldn’t get a room in a county pretty much based on tourism) – and, after a quick cuppa, decided to go and see the sea.

Ideal for water-skiing.

Ideal for water-skiing.

We looked at the waves, went for a wander around Plymouth Hoe (which is pretty, but not as fun as it sounds. It does have a lighthouse which looks… Well), ate a sausage inna bun, didn’t go on the wheel, didn’t get arrested for terrorism when my sister photographed the fort and its armed guard, and did get soaked when it pissed down with rain.


De-do-do-do-di-di-di-do-do-DUM, DUM-DUM DUM-DUM!

All in all, a trip to the seaside.

It would be a shame if anybody nicked their cannon.

It would be a shame if anybody nicked their cannon.

We weren’t feeling adventurous enough to try the strange, local delicacies on our first night, so we gorged ourselves at a really very good all-you-can-eat Chinese (and other assorted Oriental and Asian) Buffet. And then collapsed into bed, exhausted, but unable to sleep due to being stuffed stupid.

A quick note: These holiday posts might take a while; whilst I was away I took 480 photographs, so I need to sort through them to pick a few pictures per post. Oh, only five of those were taken on Sunday. All photos are Click for Big-O-Vision™


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