Summer's Fond Farewell

September is here, conjuring up images of blackberry picking, falling leaves, and fond farewells to our feathery summer visitors.  The tourists will soon begin to leave, the sun's rays will be less powerful, the weather will slowly turn and, in only three weeks the night will be longer than the day.  I always find a distinctive atmosphere in autumn; it's melancholy, a time to plan and prepare for the cold winter ahead, and to reflect on the beautiful summer now passed.  

Our summer this year has really been focussed on home, exploring the best that the area has to offer under almost perpetually sunny skies.  It should come as no great surprise, then, that our final outing of August took us to Daddyhole Plain in Torquay, to watch the RAF's fantastic Red Arrows.

Now, a red arrow pilot was just about the first thing I wanted to be when I was small, and I remember having a collection of pictures, stickers and books all about the aerobatic team.  Many times in my childhood I had been taken down to Torbay (and occasionally Dawlish) to watch this thrilling spectacle, which never got boring or dulled in my mind.  Even this week, seeing the performance for the first time in four or five years, I could feel those childhood pangs of excitement bubbling inside me.  For Lizzie, meanwhile, this was her first real Red Arrow experience, and one that I'm pretty sure she was impressed by, as the jets looped over the bay, flying upside-down,  both over our heads and beneath us as we stood on the edge of our promontory and strained for a sight of the aeroplanes, flitting in and out of view from every direction.  What a show, well up to the usual standard and every bit as good as I always remembered.

So, in a final burst of exhilaration and energy, the Red Arrows have provided the final showpiece of the season, and it feels as though the curtain has come down on the summer.  Keats' Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness is ready to begin, but we move on with the memory of the most fantastic summer, a real celebration of life in our green and pleasant corner of the country.  I can't wait to see what autumn brings!

"Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come"

GRANDMA

1922-2013

Go Fish!

Across Torbay lies a remote, almost mythical town.  It's a place I've only set foot in a handful of times in my life, and even then not for at least fifteen years.  After all, it's too far to travel, there's no reason to go there, there's nothing to see, it's a bit too... fishy.

On another stunning summer's day, Lizzie and I thought it time to put right these misconceptions and hop on the ferry to Brixham, that lesser-known third town that makes up Torbay.  You certainly can't complain at the price of the trip - a one-way ticket from Torquay costs just £1 per person, representing quite a bargain!

Fishing and Brixham are impossible to separate; they're a bit like... well... fish and chips.  The town is known as the Mother of the Deep-Sea Fisheries, and was once the largest fishery in the country, its trawlers helping to establish the industry in places such as Hull, Grimsby and Lowestoft.  You certainly don't need to visit the town to hear about its affinity with the sea, and the Brixham fisherman's reputation for bravery is known throughout Devon, as is the town's pride in its heritage.

Brixham is also famous as the landing point of William, Prince of Orange, and his Dutch army, who took their first British footsteps here on 5 November 1688.  The Prince of Orange (later King William III) would make his famous declaration, "The Liberties of England and The Protestant Religion I Will Maintain", before marching on to London to assume the throne. Apparently, many people in the area still carry Dutch surnames, being direct descendants of soldiers in that army.

Around Prince William Quay, the clouds now ominously gathering, we catch site of the fantastic lifeboats that have saved countless lives on this stretch of coastline.  The Brixham lifeboat dates back to the night of 10 January 1866, when a terrible storm swept the breakwater away, and gale force winds stopped fishing boats from entering the harbour.  Legend has it that, in the pitch-black of night, the local women brought everything they could carry to the quayside, to make a giant bonfire to guide their men home.  When dawn finally broke, one hundred lives had been lost and over fifty vessels destroyed.  News of the tragedy shocked the city of Exeter, whose citizens funded the Brixham lifeboat - now known as Torbay Lifeboat Station.

One of the reasons we came to Brixham was the see the town's two great gorillas - Bob and Nacho.  Nacho marks the furthest point on the trail, and I must say it feels like a long way from the trail's other extreme, the University of Exeter.  The artist behind Nacho designed him to be a Mexican wrestler whilst Bob, sponsored by Bob Hill Haulage, has been cleverly painted to resemble a lorry.

The rain spots having given way once more to glorious sunshine, and after a satisfying ice cream on the harbour side, it's time to leave Brixham.  The town, busy though it may be with summer tourists, seems like another world to me.  I don't feel like Torquay is just across the water, nor do I feel I am only a stone's throw from the familiar rivers and towns of my south Devon home.  It's as if I am a traveller, discovering a new and exotic place for the first time - and in a way, I suppose, that's exactly the case.  Watching the town disappear on the ferry back across the bay is like saying farewell to a newly-made friend, someone that you were at first unsure of, but have now come to understand, by learning the fascinating story lying behind the deep and soulful eyes.  Brixham, let's not leave it another fifteen years!

Great Gorillas!

Ah what more could you ask for than a relaxing start to the weekend, fish and chips by the sea, a refreshingly salty stroll, a bunch of colourful gorillas and... wait, huh?

For those of you not living in South Devon, you might not know that we’ve been invaded.  They arrived last week by flotilla and now you can’t go anywhere in Exeter or Torbay without catching a sight of them.  No I’m not talking about hoards of grocks, although they’re here too, but a much rarer and altogether more peaceful group has recently landed on our shores – wild gorillas.

The Great Gorillas Project is a public art event taking place in both Torbay and Exeter for the next ten weeks.  Thirty life-size gorilla sculptures, and a number of smaller ones designed by local schools – are now gracing the streets, parks and open spaces of the region to highlight the threat facing wild gorillas.  It all coincides with Paignton Zoo’s 90th birthday; they’re hoping to raise a significant sum of money towards conservation projects for these rare and wonderful creatures.

Well this blog loves the quirky things in life, so Lizzie and I headed out on the trail of some of these sculptures, starting at our place of work, the University of Exeter.  Inside the new Forum building sits Takamanda, designed by an Exeter student who sent her gorilla on a globetrotting adventure to collect the stamps of other endangered animals, an inspired idea.

Our trail continued that evening in Babbacombe, where Hope was looking whimsically out to sea.  According to the guide, "Hope is designed to remind us what this event and the work of Paignton Zoo is all about.  She features the beautiful images of two of the Zoo's most iconic and endangered species.  The artist's aim is to inspire hope."

A short walk across the Downs, we come to a gorilla called Back of Beyond.  "The gorilla is the master of those untamed places in which he makes his home," says the guide.  "With so much of the world unexplored, we can fantasise about lost continents, obscure rivers and forgotten volcanoes in this cartographic mash up."  What an amazing design too - I wish I could get this map on paper.

The next day in Exeter, we rediscovered the gorilla trail around the city centre, meeting along the way X-Ray Ape (inspired by the artist's own broken bones), Miss Prints (showcasing a number of endangered animal prints, furs and feathers), and Mr Bumble, undoubtedly the most well-dressed gorilla on the trail, who is "so fond of fruit, he wears it on his suit."

Back in Torquay, the clever folk of South Devon College have painted their gorilla into legendary detective Poirot, and Hoopers department store has gone the whole hog, furnishing its window with art deco clothes and accessories.  In addition to Poirot, the harbourside is full of gorillas.  By Paigton Zoo's Living Coasts lies Hippocampus Guttulatus, covered in seahorses to help increase awareness of Torbay's two species of seahorse, whilst across the inner harbour is sparkly blue Barry and Five Minutes To Midnight, covered in clocks to represent the Domesday phrase and highlight the urgent need to save endangered gorillas.  This is a tough call, but Five Minutes to Midnight is probably my favourite gorilla on the trail.

What a wonderful art exhibition, I only wish I could have featured all the gorillas we have seen so far.  We can't wait to go back on the trail and pick up the Paignton and Brixham gorillas in the near future.  In the meantime, everyone should check out the Great Gorillas Project to see the serious conservation work behind this beautiful art trail.

Come Fly With Me

Don't you think it's amazing when you find things that you thought you'd lost forever?  Recently I picked out my concise guide to British aircraft of World War II from the bookshelf, only for the following postcards to fall out from in between the pages.  They were issued by the Royal Mail in 1997, when I was 12 years old and right in the middle of a fascination with the aircraft of the Second World War.  The postcards once graced the page of an aviation scrap book I used to have, one that disappeared at some point in my teenage years.  Until now, I assumed these postcards had gone with it.

Last weekend I was prompted to delve into the storage space under my bed and pick out my Corgi Second World War aeroplane models that I started collecting when I was about 15.  They've been patiently waiting, boxed to avoid gathering too much dust, until I have the space to display them in a nice cabinet.  It's probably the first time I have got them all out together, and what a brilliant little collection I think they are!  The models range from good old British warbirds to their powerful American cousins, with a few Axis models thrown in for good measure.  Between them they represent air conflict in many theatres of the war - the Battle of Britain, the war in the Pacific, North Africa and D-Day.

So what is it about these aeroplanes that make them so fascinating compared to their modern counterparts?  It's a matter of opinion, of course, but to me this generation of fighters and bombers captures the intensity, danger, horror and beauty of man's venture into the sky.  In an age before computers dominated every move, these machines were doing their stuff in the clouds - determining mankind's future in the process.

This has got to be one of my most treasured collections, and I can't wait to get them out of their boxes for good.  Even now, so many years after I started my collection, I can see one or two gaps that I'd like to fill, a few notable absences that will make this warbirds collection complete.  In the meantime, how many of the planes can you name?