This is…Plymouth

So, here’s another late but nonetheless deserving post….

Towards the end of November last year, D and I were off to the 50th birthday party of a friend who lives in South Devon not that far from Plymouth. We thought, as we were going to be in the area, that it would be a pity to miss out on an opportunity to see J. So, we each booked the Friday off work, packed ourselves and our party finery into the car and sped off for the weekend.

J on boat

This is J, taking the boat back from the docks because we’re all knackered. According to him, you can walk EVERYWHERE in Plymouth. Heh.

(Please note, this is upside down photo placement, this photo was in fact taken at the end of the trip when we were all KNACKERED from too much walking).

J came and met us at our hotel, The Grosvenor Plymouth (which we’d chosen almost at random but turned out to be rather fine, nicely decorated and comfortable, and brilliantly situated), and it felt like such a treat to be just slobbing around, hanging out with him. J had said that he wanted to have a go at knitting a square that could be added to a blanket that I’m making (actually, and rather pathetically, I’m making a blanket for the sole purpose of its receiving the one square that J manages to produce) and after handing over the wool and needles that I’d taken for him to use, our minds turned to food.

Of course, me being me, I had to spend ages pouring over blogs and reviews whilst D and J were reduced to gnawing their arms (not really but I think that they were starting to get a little fed-up). We settled on Rock Salt Cafe & Brasserie and boy did we make a good decision. The sad thing about this good decision is that I can’t give you any details, I don’t remember what any of us ordered, or what we drank (I didn’t take any photos and I didn’t take any notes – damn me!). What I do remember is that the three of us were bowled over by everything about this charming place, from the decor, service and vibe through to the food and drink. I do remember that everything was cooked to perfection and seasoned just so and that, based on our mains we simply couldn’t resist having pudding. We’d really only gone out for a bite of supper, nothing too fancy, and had ending up eating a full three course (still not too fancy) feast. Anyway, we waddled back to the hotel and said our goodbyes to J, agreeing to rendezvous sometime mid-morning for coffee and cake.

After a great night’s sleep and a good breakfast, D and I checked out and then went for a stroll as J was, apparently, not yet to be roused. We headed towards the Hoe which was just at the end of our road and – full disclaimer, it was a gloriously sunny day – we could not believe what we saw. If you’d have told me that we were on the French Riviera (or on the coast in Italy) I’d not have questioned it.

This is Plymouth.

S full shot

A rare full length shot, only because I normally take my photos and my arm’s not quite long enough to get more than my head and shoulders!

Looking down on The Coffee Shack

I thought this coffee shop looked brilliant and really wanted to head down there straight away.

View from the Hoe Smeaton Tower Smeaton’s Tower  – sadly we couldn’t go up it as there was a Civil Ceremony taking place.

Looking down on the lido Looking towards the Terrace

The beach

Looking down onto the beach. There were a few people swimming and I wished that I’d had my costume too.

Looking down on the Terrace

Looking down onto The Terrace Bar, where J joined us for drink, and the stunning 1930s Tinside Lido.

S with Terrace coffeeS with Terrace coffee 2S with Terrace coffee 3

After sitting for a while, enjoying the sunshine and the views we decided we had better get on with the day and after a couple more hours exploring and failing to find anything we particularly wanted to eat for lunch, we said a sorry goodbye to J and continued on our Devon road trip.

Man with puppet

We passed this guy, blasting out music and filming a puppet.

Plymouth  Big Wheel

What’s left of the Plymouth Big Wheel. It’s been sold to somewhere in France, so says J.

Plymouth Hoe Memorial

Plymouth Hoe Memorial

All those plaques with rows upon rows upon rows upon rows of tiny names, each belonging to someone, a real person, who fought and died. This type of memorial always makes me cry – it’s something about the way that the names are displayed which brings home to me the scale of death in the World Wars.

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