
Day 4 of the A to Z Challenge and I'm off to Dartmouth in Devon. My husband and I stayed nearby on our very first holiday together in 1989 and have some happy memories of this part of the world - not least because THE WHOLE WEEK WAS HOT AND SUNNY! I can honestly say that we haven't been that lucky on any holiday in the UK since!
We visited lots of places on that holiday, but Dartmouth is especially memorable for three reasons:
1. We arrived there by boat from Brixham
2. It's a lovely little place, full of winding lanes and wonky buildings
3. We got told off while we were there!
The telling off is obviously the most exciting part! We were sitting in a little park-type-place somewhere near the harbour, eating fish and chips with our fingers (the best way!) and enjoying the weather, when we were (inevitably) bombarded by seagulls. Being young and soft-hearted, we threw a few chips for the poor, hungry little darlings. Immediately, we were swooped upon by a pewter-haired dragon in pearls and red lipstick who shrieked: "You are asked not to feed the gulls!" Honestly, I swear she hadn't been anywhere in view beforehand - it was as though she'd just materialised from nowhere! Shamefaced and flushing a shade of red to put her lipstick into the shade, we finished the chips off ourselves (despite bold attempts from the gulls) and got out of there as fast as we could. (Well, we were young!) It has given us some laughs over the years, though, as my husband has perfected an impression of her. Every time we see someone feeding seagulls he springs into action and has freaked out many a holidaymaker. Maybe there is someone, somewhere, who likes to tell the story of the day they were feeding gulls when a mad man told them off in a screechy voice...





I have only visited Brussels once, but it was quite a memorable visit... I was 19 at the time and my then-boyfriend and I had travelled there by coach for a long weekend. There had been some sort of mix-up with over-bookings at the hotel and we (probably because we were the youngest and looked the most gullible) were tranferred to another hotel on arrival. WELL... The bed sheets were dirty, the toilet was stained brown and had a filthy ORANGE loo seat that was hanging off. It was also on the very edge of town. In my best schoolgirl French (mostly acquired in Avignon - as detailed in yesterday's post!) I told the woman at the desk we would not be staying there because it was "dégoûtant" (disgusting, skanky, revolting - you name it!). When a representative from the travel company arrived, she bustled us away at top speed and put us in a perfectly acceptable hotel. I heard her explaining (in French) to the concierge of the new hotel that we had been put in "the hotel the prostitutes use". (I did wonder if we'd been given the coach driver's room, poor bloke!) After that, we had a brilliant time and I've always meant to go back. Here are some pics... 






