25/03/2025Phil’s Travels – Dawlish, England (03.25)
Phil’s Travels – Dawlish, England (03.25)
The Friday we travelled to Dawlish was the Friday of the Great Heathrow Shut Down. For the first time as a civilian airport (since WWII), Europe’s busiest airport closed in isolation and caused ripples around the world and across the UK. Fortunately, my return from Cairo had been a day or so before this chaos and there were no such issues for us on GWR to the West Country.
We walked to Paddington (sunny day) and the station was busy. Lots of people milling about. Difficult to tell if the crowds were Heathrow Shut Down related (the Express and Elizabeth Line not going to the airport).
When our train was announced, we joined the stampede to Platform 4 and quickly realised that the train’s electronic coach identifiers were not working. Thus, we did not know which coach was our coach and where our booked seats were located. We guessed and found ourselves on the wrong coach when the system finally came online. Despite booking a table, we were booked into sardine seats (two together and no table), so during the few moments between the ‘free for all’ and the system coming online we managed to snag two available seats at a table nearby, but still in the wrong coach.
I don’t know if the North Hyde substation conflagration had the power to affect our train in particular, but in addition to dodgy tech: (i) the heating was stuck on full and we sweated the whole way to Devon (with each layer of clothing being removed in a kind of slow-motion mass striptease); (ii) the trolley service was faulty (no wheels?); (iii) the payment system was faulty (resulting in free Diet Coke and KitKat); (iv) the seats were still very faulty (there has been a bar that cuts right into your pelvis for some years now and it was impossible to sit comfortably; they have been getting more and more worn over the years from excessive pelvis occupation).
On Saturday, we drove to Powderham Castle for a spot of local lunch and a wander around the grounds. The lunch was really top drawer, good portions and not expensive. Our stroll took us up as far as possible to the Castle itself and back down to the Exe estuary, but not a sign of any of the Castle’s famous Fallow Deer herd. In the farm shop, I bought some local vino from over the river, Lympstone, but not from the Manor’s new vineyards. I will have to visit Michael himself for that I suspect. Of note, the shop was full of Clarkson’s Farm goodies. Maybe Jezza and Charlie are good mates.
Did you know? Powderham Castle has been the Courtenay’s home ever since they emigrated from Normandie in 1390. Castle lies on a rise above the marshlands that surround the River Exe estuary where it is joined by its tributary the River Kenn. Powderham comes from ancient Dutch word ‘polder’, meaning ‘the hamlet of the reclaimed marshland’. Lord Charles is the 19th Earl of Devon.
On Sunday my wonderful wife and I enjoyed a coffee in the sun down on the High Street and read the Sunday papers. Very civilised. From there, we caught the Teign Train to Exeter and had a celebratory lunch at Harry’s (marking a 60th wedding anniversary and Mother’s Day). Turns out there was a Macc Train too, direct from Dawlish to Macclesfield (where my parents lived for over 30 years and from which I could not wait to escape as an 18-year old).
Harry’s was fab too. Both weekend lunches were clear culinary hits. Harry’s is housed within an old building (completed in 1882) off the city centre, formerly the workshop of a certain Harry Hems (an ecclesiastical sculpture and woodcarver, who worked on more than 700 churches around the UK). Lunch was followed by a quick wander around town, the purchase of a pastie for dinner and the Teign Train back.
En route to home a pied, we passed by Dawlish Water and cooed at the five baby black swans and steered well clear of their parents. Very cutesy.
Monday morning was calls and emails, a light lunch and the big train back to London. Again, our reserved seats were not with a table, but the coach was so empty and all lit up in green (only our miss-booked sardine seats were showing as red) we took occupation of the nearest table seat and rode in comfort (if you ignored the bottom-cutting bar) to the capital. As we expressed past Courtenay’s pad, we caught sight of those elusive deer in the briefest of blurs.
It was a wonderful weekend of wildlife, fine foods, clement weather and country air. Next week, the big smoke of Berlin.
Media Centre