Over the Bay from Torquay to Brixham this Saturday afternoon. At a steady speed of 9.2 knots it took about 25 minutes. Embarking and disembarking added another 25 minutes.
The sea jiggled a bit. A shag shot off alarmed by our noisy chug.
As we approached Brixham Haze pointed out this
dads nose had got a spot on it.
Or maybe she was pointing to the house she used to be a child in during the middle of the 20th century.
Once disembarked (an odd word that, ought to mean more than ‘getting off a boat’) we sat on the wide wall of The Breakwater to eat our peppery bacon and tom ‘samwhiches’.
Would we see any shags skimming and sculling off Shoalstone beach? No. Not a one. Instead we saw this
The sun and the surf had got the spaniels happy-mad head (and tail) spinning.
It was getting hot. I was getting burnt. A ‘Peely’ personified.
We slow puffed up acutely steep steps of alleyway to 55 Northview – and looked out on this
This is the ‘scene’ Haze had looked down on as a child: Brixham in all its beauty, as pretty as a picture.
I can understand now why she’s done all her harbour pictures of boats and houses.