"Let's go to Ashburton!"
We replied "Not today! It is FAR too hot to be inland. it will be much more pleasant on the beach."
But we remembered.
A week later, on a day that was warm but cloudy, and punctuated by the odd splattering of rain. We set the sat nav and departed for the aforementioned location. The KHT's smile broadened to a wide grin, as we entered the town and her wish was granted.
After a few hours wandering around the small town centre, what can I tell you about the place?
Ashburton has lots of second-hand stores, but they prefer to describe themselves as Antique Shops - with the profits going into the owner's pockets, rather than to some good cause.
Unfortunately, we only found one genuine charity shop. The KHT does enjoy browsing DVD's and books in a well-stocked charity shop.
In its favour, Ashburton does have Church's - a genuine old-fashioned ironmongery, with a roof so low they have to warn the taller customers, such as DH.
Staff reported that a visiting policeman put his helmet on, stood up and made a hole in the ceiling.
True story or a country tale? I do hope it is true!
DH fell into raptures in the kitchenware department, and purchased a red mini colander for the caravan and a pot for salad.
The KHT discovered some cookie cutters and decided to have a go at making cookies. There were a variety of shapes - teapots, hearts, stars - small, simple tidy shapes with a good chance of success.
The KHT chose the outline of mainland Britain.
Look out for news of cookies with Wales, Scotland or Cornwall omitted, and for hearing about who is offended by this culinary disaster. It could even lead to devolution...
Udder cloths? Naively I thought these were a new name for pads breastfeeding mothers placed in their bras to avoid embarrassing leaks. Google advises me that these are for use with dairy herds - exactly as the illustration indicated...
I discovered the perfect present for Grandchild 5 (aged 3) in an interesting toy shop.
DH was a little surprised, "Is this for Christmas?" he enquired, suspiciously.
There speaks the man who usually only buys presents for one person...
"Yes, or her birthday, which is in January. If you don't buy things when you see them, you drive yourself potty in December!"
I have visited many towns, but Ashburton is unique. For some reason, there is a conspiracy against displaying menus, so they are visible to potential customers.
One promising looking tearoom had a window full of very tempting cakes with a sign indicating that they did 'Light Lunches' but no further information was supplied.
As you had to go in through two doors just to discover what 'Light Lunches' might consist off, I made the executive decision that they won't get our custom.
I spied another place across the road - again no visible menu.
As the door was open I felt more comfortable wandering inside, but I had to fight my way past two overgrown flowering shrubs on sentry duty either side of the door.
Once I had gained entry, I requested a menu. Then I noticed that most people seemed to be drinking or using computers. I opened the menu and my heart sank. It was all posh stuff that wouldn't have met the requirements of my gluten-and-pepper-free husband, or limited-diet daughter or fussy-eater self.
I made my apologies and left.
Salvation was just around the corner when we discovered The Hound of the Baskerville - a small themed restaurant/bar which DID most boldly display food choices.Here DH had gluten-free fish and chips,
the KHT selected a fish finger sandwich and I enjoyed a homemade steak pie - a rare treat since DH has adopted his current restricted diet.
The pub was a curious place with a murder scene pictured above our table.
The KHT required little encouragement to interact with the mural above our table.
Fortunately, DH was on his best behaviour, as a large hound kept a careful eye on him all the time we were there. The hound was rumoured to be a model, but the owners kept him behind bars, just to be on the safe side.
After lunch, we headed on to the moors so the KHT to indulge in her favourite hobby of exploring streams. We found a suitable place and admired the beautiful Dartmoor ponies who were also enjoying the spot.One decided to go across the bridge. A car followed s-l-o-w-l-y.
On reaching the far side of the bridge, the horse then turned around and stood its ground.
The car inched forward.
The horse stood resolute.
The driver waited.
The horse waited.
The passenger got out the car and immediately the horse moved off the bridge.
The car crossed the bridge, the passenger got back in and off they went.Meanwhile, the KHT was also putting faith in the human touch and attempting to catch fish. However, the fish had very quick reactions - possibly they were not keen on the humiliation of being caught in a pink net.
Holmes may have had his own opinion concerning the rocky outcrops on the moor.
"Sedimentary, my dear Watson!"
Nah, they are made of sterner stuff!
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