Retracing the past

There is something reassuring about the train journey to Plymouth, the scenery seemingly little changed over time, hills and hedgerows increasing as you thread your way through deepest Devon. Suddenly, abruptly, you cruise alongside rows and rows of houses, no doubt full of ruddy faced farmer types baking fresh scones and drinking Cyder with a ‘Y’. Yeah, of course, that’s totally what it’s like…

After meeting Mum at the station, first stop was “Town”, where not a lot had actually changed from a year ago… the odd new shop here and there and more quality fancy dress and fashion accessories at Bits N Bows, the premium stop for all your party needs in the South West! A pasty for lunch was followed by Mum’s homemade lasagne in the evening, eaten outside on the deck in the increasingly bright and warm weather.

Blue skies and fluffy white sheep clouds greeted me for my first full day in Plymouth and I took part in the annual pilgrimage that is the bus to town, walk up Armada Way to the Hoe and along the seafront to the Barbican.

It’s hard to beat on days like these, perfect for the 15 year old mums to take little Courtney for a pram push, ideal for the foreign exchange students to take their backpacks off both shoulders and lounge in gaggles on the grass, and just super for the wrinkles to park up and sit in their car staring absently out to sea. Also a great day for an ice cream, and I even stumbled across a BIG ice cream - all presented in a very restrained British way and not with all the associated hoo haa you might find in the colonies.

Now, you may know when I’m in Sydney I like to get out on the water and in this most Sydney-esque of days I decided to take the ferry across the Sound and over to Cawsand. Of course, it’s very similar to the Manly ferry, leaving the old part of town as it does, passing the shiny white architecture of Plymouth Dome, views to the Tamar Bridge and cruising on along a number of wooded inlets, some even with swanky apartments overlooking the water! Pleasingly, Cawsand, and it’s partner in crime, Kingsand, is a long way from Sydney and was designed before such things as cars existed, creating a confined maze of narrow, cottage lined alleys and lanes, leading down to slipways and shingle coves peppered with Northerners getting sunburn.

Now from here I took the walk into Mount Edgecumbe, climbing steeply up to Maker. I passed some people coming the other way, one of the guys was busy taking photos whilst his partner patiently waited. Did he make her come along? Make her, Maker? Geddit?! Oh dear, I think I was actually getting slightly delirious here as it was unseasonably warm and, believe it or not, my head was starting to get a little tinted. The shady trees helped a bit and it was nice to be greeted at the top of the hill with more Cornalishious scenery.

From here it was downhill all the way into the more formal gardens of Mount Edgecumbe, a place I have wandered around many times since a wee nipper. When I was younger the highlight was always the chance to have an ice cream from the Orangery Café and, as nice as all the plants were, it was no different this time round. Given I’m a little older these days I can also have a sneaky pint of Cider, very useful when there is an hour wait for the Cremyll Ferry and there is a pub slap bang opposite the quay. Glorious.