The Only Way to Go

I really needed that break in Devon. It had, after all, been nearly a month since my previous holiday and I was close to breaking point.

By some miracle, I managed to spend a full five days in the company of my immediate family without exasperation setting in. Even better, I think the feeling might have been mutual.

I trekked to and from an obscure (secret!) beach on the Dartmouth coast which required some athletic manoeuvres across rocks and some considerable stamina to get back to the top of the cliff from where I took this picture.


It occured to me it’s only going to be another couple of years that I can do this without needing to train for six months first!

Paying lip (and leg) service to health, I took myself on a lengthy excursion by bike up and over Tower Bridge and back along the Thames path on the north side of the river through Wapping and on to Limehouse. I often look at the Limehouse Basin from my balcony and wonder what life is like on the other side. Am relieved to confirm the peninsular is better.

My mistake was cycling back south via the Rotherhithe Tunnel. Although I’d anticipated unventilated exhaust fumes being unpleasant, by the time I could (like, LITERALLY) see the light at the end of the tunnel, time had slowed down and I was convinced I was about to die of carbon monoxide poisoning. I won’t do that again.


One Response to The Only Way to Go

  1. mckinley says:

    Today I had a tantrum in New Cross, threw down my bike and said I wasn’t going to cycle any further. I hate cars. Why can’t London be like Holland?

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