I thought I’d share another “not going to” post this week, and I’ve a feeling it could become a bit of a series, depending on how long we’re in lockdown for and realistically, how long it takes more normal life to resume. So for this post, we’re not going on a coastal path walk, in Devon, where we didn’t go last weekend. If that makes sense.

These are actually photos from our visit to Devon in 2015, but quite honestly the memories seem more recent than that. And despite the photo below it was actually a nice day, and not quite as grim as this photo suggests. Though I think I prefer to describe this as atmospheric, rather than grim.

We’d visited the National Trust’s Colyton Fishacre, which probably has to be one of their strangest named properties, surely? MOH’s aunt volunteers there and it’s one of the places we regularly visit, but it was the first time we nipped out the gate onto the coastal path. Once we’d seen the view, we weren’t sure why.

I’m not a huge fan of walking too close to the edge, and it’s rare that you’ll find me peering over the edge, but with gorgeous bracken edged views like this I’m more than happy with that. Though I remembered if I stood on tiptoes, the yacht came into view.

getting braver and peeking further to the edge

And while the views to the sea were great, it really was the plants that were closer that held my attention.

And given my previous comments about being close to the edge, you can imagine my thoughts about this. Yes I know it’s not on the edge at all, but I could still fall. MOH who’s used to this irrational logic when it comes to heights and edges, just helps me along, and we did make it down the path you can see heading off into the distance.

But I do have my limits, and the were soon to be reached. Rocks like the one covered in lichen are much more preferable than heading closer to the edge.

Yes, I am not in the picture below. Not even close.

Even looking at it now makes me more anxious, but the honeysuckle is much more my thing.

Yes, I’m definitely more of a hedgerows kind of girl, I’ll save the edges for those of you that don’t seem to mind them!

This weekend we’re not going to Devon. It’s how life is right now, but thankfully we have been to Devon many a time, and so instead I’m sharing some photos from a previous visit. This visit was from a visit in 2016, and while MOH and my SIL and her husband went for for a walk over the Moor, I opted for what turned out to be a more sensible trip to Killerton.

The plan was to meet in the pub for lunch, which still happened, though my morning was spent much more relaxed than theirs. I explored the house, spent time reading the books in the library - yes, the actual books, sitting on the actual chairs and actually pretending it was where I lived.

In fact I probably got a little too comfortable, but in my defence it was a great book, and there was no better setting for it. But what about the paisley?

I’ve never really given them much thought, well apart from avoiding them on Liberty fabrics as I grew up, not something I’m sure I’d do now. The origins of the motif, that is instantly recognisable, can be found in the ancient civilisation of Babylon under the rule of kings such as Nebuchadnezzar. Paisley, is of course a small Scottish textile town, and had I had more time I would have read the whole story of its connection with this instantly recognisable design.

I left realising that there’s much, much more to Paisley, and you just thought I was browsing books in the Library didn’t you?

I did finally manage to tear myself away, and I was hooked. There is of course plenty more to see, including a tour around the gardens, which I also love. While in the gardens, the skies grew black, I knew I was too far away from the house to make it back as it started spitting so sheltered under a large tree. The weather quickly passed and off I headed to the pub, only to sit there alone, for longer than I’d like.

They arrived eventually. They’d been caught in the rain, and got soaked through, so had headed back to get changed and then set out to meet me for lunch. The mobile signal is bad in Devon, but they’d not thought to call to change the venue to save their mileage, clearly soggy brains!