No words can describe the glorious day that was August bank holiday in Brixham.
But I’ll give it a good go.
We arrived a little after lunch time, with hungry bellies. We stopped off at a restaurant on the harbour and ate picky bits; garlic bread, falafels and burnt corn on the cob. Perfect to fuel an afternoon of exploring.
Afterwards, we walked the length of the harbour, stopping every so often to look at the water below, admiring the fish and all the crabs, the ones that were being caught by eager children with nets and buckets.
Close to the front, there was music, a karaoke bar I thought, but it turns out just a woman with a speaker and a microphone. She was awful. Singing power ballads where the high notes were just a little too out of reach for her. But I admired her enthusiasm and she had me singing along with her to Whitney Housten and Adele. David thought I was mad, but it made me smile.
Walking down to the front, we were commandeered by a salesman trying to sell us ferry tickets to Paignton. We didn’t want to go and we said that to him, but he was persistent. We tried to avoid him when we walked back past, but he spotted us and tried once more. Another quirky character that brought life to this town.
It was nearly time to go, but we walked right to the opposite end of the town, along the long pier that has a lighthouse at the end of it. We spotted the water, the small beach packed with people and screaming children, and we plonked ourselves down.
The sea glistened in the sunshine, and we mused over just how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful part of the country.
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