Arriving back into Plymouth was a bit strange…a mixture of the odd and familiar. The friggin’ rain was all too familiar that’s for sure, but whilst the first couple of days were partial washouts I did manage to get some rest, squeeze in a pasty and catch up on photos and blog writing. Friday morning started bright and while this didn’t last long it was enough for a short jaunt into town to see what had changed and what hadn’t. 
Besides a new shopping centre, which is just like any other shopping centre in the world, much was the same. Thankfully little had changed on the Hoe, where Smeaton’s Tower was glowing and old people and alcoholics stared endlessly out to sea.
I walked the walk I have probably walked 100 or more times in my life, along the Hoe
foreshore taking in the deserted Tinside open air lido, the rocky foreshore dotted with small stony Plymouth beaches (only for the desperate bather), the ice cream vans having another slow day and people frolicking with dogs on the banks of the Citadel. Turning the corner, the Barbican, which is the old maritime bit of Plymouth, came into view.
Whilst there are some interesting historical sights on the Barbican I am delighted to report that Plymouth has its own piece of down-under-ness courtesy of a giant prawn on a stick. No tacky souvenir shop attached and a bit more understated but any visiting Aussies would surely make a beeline for this before the Elizabethan House or National Marine Aquarium.
The Barbican also has its fair share of eateries and pubs, many looking quite fancy and la-di-da these days with these continental outdoor terraces and the like.
But you can’t beat traditional wholesome grub and nowhere is as traditional or as wholesome as Cap’n Jaspers. I didn’t eat here this time but happy memories of half a yard of hot dog and giant Jasperizer burgers came flooding back.
My mind riddled with BSE with extra onions and double cholesterol, I walked on down Southside Street, the home of tourist tat, pasty shops and Plymouth Gin, past the once frequented Notte Inn and Favourite Foods, up by the Merchant’s House and St Andrews Church and eventually onto a good old number 16 bus home. £1.45 single?! Extortionate…it wasn’t that much back in my day!
Besides a new shopping centre, which is just like any other shopping centre in the world, much was the same. Thankfully little had changed on the Hoe, where Smeaton’s Tower was glowing and old people and alcoholics stared endlessly out to sea.I walked the walk I have probably walked 100 or more times in my life, along the Hoe
foreshore taking in the deserted Tinside open air lido, the rocky foreshore dotted with small stony Plymouth beaches (only for the desperate bather), the ice cream vans having another slow day and people frolicking with dogs on the banks of the Citadel. Turning the corner, the Barbican, which is the old maritime bit of Plymouth, came into view.
Whilst there are some interesting historical sights on the Barbican I am delighted to report that Plymouth has its own piece of down-under-ness courtesy of a giant prawn on a stick. No tacky souvenir shop attached and a bit more understated but any visiting Aussies would surely make a beeline for this before the Elizabethan House or National Marine Aquarium.The Barbican also has its fair share of eateries and pubs, many looking quite fancy and la-di-da these days with these continental outdoor terraces and the like.
But you can’t beat traditional wholesome grub and nowhere is as traditional or as wholesome as Cap’n Jaspers. I didn’t eat here this time but happy memories of half a yard of hot dog and giant Jasperizer burgers came flooding back.
My mind riddled with BSE with extra onions and double cholesterol, I walked on down Southside Street, the home of tourist tat, pasty shops and Plymouth Gin, past the once frequented Notte Inn and Favourite Foods, up by the Merchant’s House and St Andrews Church and eventually onto a good old number 16 bus home. £1.45 single?! Extortionate…it wasn’t that much back in my day! 
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