Where in the world was I?

Where in the world would you find these legs?

a caterpillar like this…?

and a beach on which to make a ‘sculpture’ like this?

plus a chance to surf on a beach like this?

just around the corner from cliffs like these?

Author: Sarah

No time to lose. No, time to lose. Make time to stand and stare.... Did you see that?

21 thoughts on “Where in the world was I?”

  1. I expect you’d find the legs on a donkey, Pseu. As for the pile of stones, they remind me of the TV programme for very young children “In the Night Garden”. Makka Pakka builds piles of stones like that, but he needs to get out more! Sorry, this comes of watching TV with granddaughter. Such arrangements look more like Japan.

  2. I think the legs are Cherie Blair or Harriet Harman, but the place might be Donkey Park in the Tamar Valley.

  3. With regards surfing ….Somebody should tell those surfers that their boards are too big and won’t lift their tips far enough up on such small waves, one needs a 5 footer for small shoreliner waves such as these.

    This is what those big boards are for, ……..

    Good to hear you had a good time, Pseu. 🙂

  4. thank you!

    It was an incredibly gentle surf day… though just around the corner at the next beach the waves were bigger….

  5. it is, zen. I didn’t know North Devon really – hadn’t been there since childhood. So much variety in the area.

  6. Hello Pseu, I should have recognised the cobbled stones in No1. The donkey was probably not yet born when I was last in Clovelly, sometime in the early 80s. I have associations with the village. One of my cousins was at the time a senior officer with the Coldstream Guards. In answer to a challenge from the village squire, he arranged for a company of Coldstreamers in full dress uniform, accompanied by the band, to march up and down those cobbled streets. That may not sound like much until you have seen (which you obviously have) those steep, narrow streets and have yourself marched in ‘hob-nailed boots’. One thing to do it on a dry, flat parade ground, quite another on terrain such as that. Not one foot went astray. In all, it was a hugely impressive and moving display in a beautiful setting. When said cousin died prematurely some years later, there was a military funeral at the Guard’s Chapel. I was not there, but my sister told me how moving it was to hear the tap-tap-tap of those boots and the military precision with which the coffin was carried into the chapel.

  7. ah, what a lovely story, Sipu. Thank you.

    The streets are very steep. I was taken with the ramshackle wooded sledges that everyone uses to drag things up and down the streets… many of them made with the plastic ‘baskets’ that processed bread is delivered in, mounted upon rough wooden runners.

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