It’s not a holiday in the UK until its torrentially rained at least once (or in my case the entirety of the first 3 days) and the whole family has inevitably got slightly aggy with each other as a result. After the fairly exotic summer the UK has so far experienced, I had my hopes held high for this family trip to Devon, but of course it’s sods law that as soon as we arrive we see this wet stuff falling from the sky, apparently thats called rain; its been so long we were all slightly taken aback by the obscene weather change. I guess I was slightly naive to think that the hot weather we had been experiencing in Costa Del Brighton would follow me to the west country, because it most certainly didn’t. Anyway, we’re all trying to make the best out of a slightly dire (but nonetheless typical and sort of expected) situation…
When it came to packing this year, all rationalised thinking went straight out the window. In an ideal world, the massive heatwave we had been experiencing, would continue, so of course me being the overly hopeful individual I am, packed for exactly that – I clearly had momentarily forgotten that of course I lived in a country that is for 80% of the year too cold for me to even get my legs out. Thus was reflected in my packing; bikinis? Packed. Shorts? Packed. Crop tops? Packed. Hoodies? Not packed. Long sleeved tops? Not packed. Multiple jeans/trouser options? Not packed. Upon my arrival, I instantly felt a bit sorry for the bundle of positivity I was less than 24 hours ago while packing. Also slightly sorry for my current self, for not packing any warm clothing, and spending the first 3 days freezing my bloody tits off.
Anyway, enough of me being a negative Nora, I’ve always been bought up to make the best out of these situations, and besides, this was our first family holiday in nearly 3 years, so I’m going to enjoy it, even if it torrentially rains for 2 weeks, and inevitably I end up catching my death, it’ll be worth it.
To be fair I’m probably being a bit of a drama queen about the whole thing, as in all honesty I’m having an absolute blast of a time (aside from the fact that every time I nicely blow dry my hair, I only have to step outside to resemble some sort of scarecrow).
I’m a massive lover of walking and exploring places, having only been here for 3 days I’ve traipsed around nearly 50K of Devon countryside – I could walk for hours and get so lost, yet have the absolute time of my life, its a little escape for me. On the second day, Mum and I went on a gorgeous walk up to Morthoe village, which is the next village along from where our apartment is – and let me tell you its the steepest hill I’ve ever had to walk up and after running 10K about and hour prior to this little adventure, by the time I got the the top my legs were literal jelly. All was made worth it though when we found a very indie cafe, in which I was served by someone who I’m 90% sure was Joe from Blossoms, but I highly doubt he can fit in being a barista in his spare time. Not only was the barista very good looking, just to add bonus points, they did an 80% dark hot chocolate – dark chocolate is basically the way to my heart, so I was happy as Larry, mainly to sit down and rest my poor legs, but also the hot chocolate.
Aside from lots of walking, (I’m one of those sad people that religiously tracks their steps, so after all this walking, I embarrassingly, cant wait to see how many steps I’ll end up doing this holiday), I’ve also done a fair bit of running. Which lets face it, wont come as a shock to anyone as I spend too much time out running around like a lunatic. But since being in Devon, seeing as the beach here is just 3 miles of just pure sand, it’d be stupid to not make the most of this luxury – beaches back home tend to be just stone, an accident waiting to happen if I was ever to run on them. So I’ve been out training, in the wind and rain, along the beach – I had majorly underestimated how much harder running on sand would be to just the standard road running that I’m used to. After day 2, every muscle in my legs hurt, I’m also pretty sure I’ve done something dodgy to my groin, but will I be out again tomorrow morning? Yep, shock x
Body boarding is one of the main reasons I get so excited to come to Devon, you can’t really do this on Littlehampton beach, if you’re a local, you can vouch for this. So, of course my Dad, brothers and I have all spent plenty of time catching some pretty good waves. Although I’ve spent about 80% of this post complaining about the weather, with it being quite windy an overcast the waves are ace, can’t complain there. When we go away, we’ve only ever body boarded, not surfed, as much as I have begged my parents to let me learn – my swimming technique tends to be just doggy paddle and hope you don’t drown, therefore it’s probably best I take their advice and not learn to surf, I’ll just stick to the bTEC version of surfing, body barding. Maybe next year.
A quick run down of the first few days, and I’m absolutely loving being back here, even if it has rained (a lot), and I’ve been slightly grouchy, sorry Mum x
Devon is my absolute favourite place in the UK and I’ve visited for as long as I can remember, it’s sort of like my second home. These next couple of weeks will fly by, but after having a very shit year, I’m going to make sure they are a bloody good couple of weeks.
See you all in my next Devon round up,
Lots of Love,