Paignton Trains and Pinballs

Thursday 12 August 1993. We were in Paignton for the day during a week's camping holiday based in Sidmouth, Devon.

There's a famous railway that runs along the coast here - the Paignton and Dartmouth Railway. It had an unusual observation car at the rear of the train on certain days - the carriage can be seen here under the canopy.

We had seen notices in the town saying that the Flying Scotsman locomotive was there on that day and we had gone to see it. I was a bit taken aback. I was used to seeing the loco at Carnforth Steamtown museum in the 1980s in its LNER apple green livery and numbered 4472, but here it was in darker livery, numbered 60103 and with horrendous German-style smoke deflectors fitted to the front. I later found this was its British Rail livery and appearance. Built in 1923 it was the first locomotive to officially reach 100 miles per hour. In 1958 it had its single chimney replaced by a double one which tended to chuck smoke all over the place, obscuring the driver's view, hence the smoke detectors. It ended service running in 1963 and entered preservation status under a succession of owners and batting back and forth between the two liveries. At the time though, on this day, not knowing anything of its long history, I was doubting it was the same locomotive.

Dodging a far more modern and less interesting diesel Sprinter unit on the main line's level crossing, we went back to the seafront and had a walk along towards the pier.

The beach kiosks are a bit more like it today. Pasties and pies on offer, rather than your disgusting whelks and winkles. People were also sporting some bright summer colours as they tucked into some good old heart-warming foodstuffs! Never mind your cockles and mussels alive alive-oh, give us a carton of fish and chips a-fried a-fried-oh! I don't like any confusion over who's eating who...

The pier's amusements arcade didn't look exactly welcoming but closer inspection revealed there were lights on inside and one door slightly ajar.

Inside the arcade we found a Gorgar pinball from 1979 and an F14 Tomcat from 1986, both machines being very old for arcade use. I had a Gorgar in my own pinball collection at the time, it was the first ever talking pinball machine. It managed to make several phrases from its seven-word vocabulary of me; you; got; Gorgar; beat; speaks; hurt.

And we leave Paignton with a view of this intrepid pair at the start of their cross-Atlantic pedallo journey to America. Turn right once out of the harbour and mind that swell!

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The Nottiff of Sheringham

Monday 1 October 2012. We have finished journeying up and down the North Norfolk Railway and decided to have a look at what else Sheringham has to offer.

I was a touch surprised to see a pub called the Robin Hood. I didn't actually go in to see whether there was any claim to connection with the famous outlaw of Sherwood Forest, but perhaps it was a drunken mistake as per my title at the top!

The town clock has been built onto a shelter with a sign that says it was once the site of the town's water supply and possibly the stocks and pillory.

By water supply, this means a well. Few town wells were what most people would think of with a handle to winch down a bucket. They were mostly puddles some of which were defined by stone or brickwork but at which you would normally stoop to fill your bucket or whatever you had brought.

Some delivered clear water, others brackish green or brown water with a generous share of pond life. Tadpoles are easy to fish out, microscopic life forms including bacteria are not... The word "possibly" is fun as well isn't it? As in "possibly the site of the stocks and pillory... but possibly not..."

Down the main street towards the seafront, the Lobster seemed to have been in the wars. Covered with bullet holes and a shell hole, it turned out that these had been painted on in honour of a 1940s night!

At first glance though it did seem particularly appropriate that the pub was on the corner of Gun Street!

Joyful West's Seafood Bar stands on the other corner. Now I have never been a fan of seafood I'm afraid. Raised some 50 miles from the coast in Rochdale, seafood was not a family staple foodstuff in the 1950s and 60s of my childhood. Fish came from the chippy and was cod, hake or haddock and if we ate fish in a "posh" restaurant it would be plaice. Salmon came from a tin and I never even tasted tuna until I was 30. Shrimps, prawns and most definitely things like mussels, crab, lobster, oysters, squid, and scallops mostly remain (the exception is prawns) if not downright poison at least under the mental heading of probably-tastes-so-putrid-I'd-puke!

At the end of the street right on the seafront is The Two Lifeboats pub. The beach is one of those where tons of huge rocks have been spilled to protect the coastal area from the sea. Practical and comparatively cheap I suppose, but looks bloody awful. But it seems to be getting increasingly common more's the pity. Perhaps they will look ok in a few thousand years when the rocks have worn smooth by the sea?

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Weymouth Wanderings

Monday 9 August 1993. Our south coast holiday today takes in Weymouth.

Weymouth is a bit like two different towns - which in fact it did used to be. They were either side of the harbour, but were united as a single borough by Queen Elizabeth I in 1571. The town of Melcombe Regis lost its name and identity and the town of Weymouth suddenly became a lot bigger.

A typical south coast town with a busy harbour and lots of comings and goings to watch. Unfortunately the weather wasn't particularly kind this day but who cares, when you holiday in the UK you soon learn to just get on with it!

There was lots of different types of boats and ships in the harbour. There is a fishing fleet, a number of smaller boats taking fishing charters and the odd cross-Channel ferry to watch whilst you dodge the seagulls.

Lots of atmospheric old pubs down by the quayside. Some of them no doubt were used to the sight of the Press Gang at some point in their history - that somewhat brutal way of taking any able-bodied men who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and enforcing naval service on them regardless of whether they were married, or whatever their circumstances. It could be many years before such men saw their homes again, if indeed they ever did.

The King's Arms is right on the quayside. Not sure where his legs were...

We tried the Old Rooms Inn for a spot of lunch but there wasn't anything that took our fancy. We decided to move elsewhere!

A large warehouse complex known as Brewers Quay had been transformed into a shopping mall with a collection of small outlets and cafes and we had our lunch there before resuming our exploration of the harbour.

It was quite crowded inside and we had to wait for a table to become available, especially as there were six of us.

We came out again and back to the harbour, thinking to have a walk to the west where Weymouth takes on more of a holiday seaside air. A large Seacat ferry was gliding in and gave us a bit of added interest.

Oh my goodness, the dreaded whelk! And jellied eels - yuk! Despite living in Blackpool (now "near" Blackpool) I was born and brought up in the centre of the north on the edge of the Pennines and have always viewed shellfish and seafood (apart from fish and chips) with the utmost suspicion. Picking things out of shells with a pin sounds revolting enough without having to put it in your mouth...

The sea hasn't any huge rollers or crashing waves but still manages to hold the attention with a hypnotising regular ebbing and flowing, dragging water back into itself (and a fair bit of red sand) to launch the next assault on the beach.

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