We've just come back from our holidays.
OK, so we stayed in the UK as we usually do, we're not yet after the Sun, (kids with fair skin tends to put pay to this at the moment!) so we consciously chose to take a risk and travel to the seaside, the good old British way.
As you may know, St Ives is Our Place, but we also try and explore a few other places too, and after our excursion to Brixham last year, we decided on Devon again, this time, the North and Ilfracombe.
OK, so many of you who have been to this part of Devon might be cringing in horror, and I'd be fibbing if I denied I wasn't just the littlest bit disappointed with the run down Promenade and shops. So, knowing we wanted to take Little Fella to the beach, we had a day in Woolacombe and knew immediately we had chosen the wrong Combe to stay.
Anyway, I refuse to be negative about our hols, because it was lovely to be away from everything (well almost when you've got a terror toddler and 3 month old baby), and Ilfracombe wasn't all that bad the more familiar it became to us, plus, the sun came out and all looked a hell of a lot better.
I absolutely loved the Theatre (see above), it looks like 2 giant chimney's, very cool, and the Promenade itself was gorgeous as long as you looked out to the sea and cliffs and not the shops opposite. There were some stunning sea walks and the odd cool shop dotted around. The ice cream was tasty, the chips weren't, and I was very annoyed to find dog poo laws seem to have by passed Ilfracombe because the Harbour beach and streets were littered with the stuff, and it's a right b*****d to get off buggy wheels - shame on you owners, you give dogs a bad name.
One saving grace for Ilfracombe as far as we were concerned was the choice of pleasant eateries. A family of vegetarians is a challenge for the chicest of Cities, but fair play, they had it sorted.
There was No 6 St James on the Promenade, where I indulged in goats cheese and pesto linguine, and Big Fella, pear and Stilton salad, and the Italy imported Prosecco was well worth the bill. The cheese board was to totally die for, all local cheeses served with home made crackers - divine.
Later in the week, we tried a French inspired cafe (yes, I am still living the French dream!!), called Cafe Jardin. It was such a fantastic menu, we ended up dining there twice, and even Little Fella couldn't get enough of the cheese and hummus platter, declaring carrot sticks and brown sauce his dish of the hols, much to my absolute horror (I officially hate brown sauce).
We also stumbled upon Damien Hirst's cool vibe cafe/restaurant on the Quay, simply called No.11 The Quay. With it's traditional Hirst artwork (lots of dead butterflies and fish, which incidentally did make me feel a little uncomfortable), donning the walls and bespoke Union Jack cushions, and what I'm guessing are copies (?) of his 35ft bronze sculpture of a pregnant woman kinda spliced to show the developing feotus inside -eery, but what else would you expect, it was a really pleasant find.
Anyway, it wasn't quite enough to put me off indulging in a glass of Champagne, even if I was wind and rain swept and looked like I really shouldn't be there, but it was surprisingly unpretentious and really saved the day on quite a few occasions.
I must also mention a cool little surf shop called Genesis owned by 2 lovely folk, because they stock all my fav kinda surf clothes. Thank you.
So, we did Ilfracombe to death, honest, we did, but Woolacombe really did it for us, with it's cool laid back vibe, retro VW campers, sweeping sands, surf shops, coffee bars and art shops. Considering they were barely a 10 minute drive apart, you couldn't find two places so different. Little fella got his beach, and JB got to soak up the vibe and we all had a pretty cool time.
I can't say it was a relaxing holiday as such, Little Fellas tantrums put pay to that, from chicken pox has emerged a 60 year old 2 and a bit year old - and at one time, he and JB were in competition about who could cry the loudest and for the longest. I absolutely needed that glass of wine when they'd gone to bed.
Anyway, with the dulcit tones of Glastonbury as our soundtrack and Big Brother 9, the best so far, it's fair to say we had a grand time, and isn't it strange you don't actually realise how good it was until you come back home, to whatever awaits you in the ordinary world.
Be good
K xxxxxxxx
