So. On a train. In the rain. (Storm Dennis). 7 year-old wedged into my ribcage. I can hardly type. Does slowing down lead to more considered, better prose? I doubt it.
We are flying (well, training) into the teeth of Dennis. Unwise, perhaps, but there's a futon at stake. Oh, and a holiday. This time last year we were up on Haddon Hill in blazing sunshine. The forecast doesn't support any such trips this half term. Stay in and drink tea, it says.
About to hit one of the most astonishing bits of railway track anywhere in the world. For m Exeter the Victorians (I assume) built the line to Teignmouth on the sea wall. Blood red cliffs on one side, the waves on the other. Thankfully Dennis is blowing off the Atlantic. If the wind was coming from France we'd be in la merde. Or la mer. Either way...
Did I mention that The Great Western Hotel at Exeter St David's has stopped serving Stilton garlic bread? Damm shame. Still good beer, mind. Even in this weather Exeter as an alternative to London is very attractive. Devon is beautiful.
Dennis will have blown himself out tomorrow. Perhaps we'll make it down to Brixham to smell the sea.
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