A beautiful spring evening, yet Dawlish was mainly closed. Traders having decided that it wasn't worth their while staying open this evening. We discovered an interesting restaurant, but they weren't interested in us - tables stacked, door locked, lights off. The chippie was open, but only serving takeaway. We sat on a bench, resisting the advances of a trio of hustling pigeons, who thought we should share our food with them. The answer was no! You guys need to fly, we don't!
My daughter wanted toasted muffins for breakfast, and as the Co-op was open and able to supply our needs, as well as our wants. So we agreed that our proposed visit to the new Sainsbury's can wait for another day…
It was good to watch the trains thundering through between tide and town. Instinctively I pause and count the carriages, just as I did when I was a child. I think of those who are on the train - returning to a life away from this corner of paradise, to a life regulated by the clock. I am thankful that I am not!
After the winter storms they are dredging the 'river' that flows through the town. As rivers go it is small and shallow, making our own Arrow seem like a mighty and dangerous torrent. 'The Brook' or 'Dawlish Water' is placid and wellbehaved, bordered by ornamental gardens and regulated by weirs.
By the time we wandered down to the beach it was too dark to admire the repairs to the sea wall. We weren't even sure if they were to the left or the right, so we bid goodnight to the Parson and clerk, and took our shopping 'home'.