So we had a lovely time in Devon. It was like taking a holiday in some kind of mythical kinder, gentler time, with everything you could possibly want from a seaside holiday if you are, like me, endearingly wholesome*. This included beaches (sandy and pebbly); retired donkeys; mini golf; craft galleries; stripy deckchairs on the prom; thatched cottages and elegant Georgian stuccoed houses; clifftop walks; gardens filled with flowers. And it was warm. We paddled.
J started compiling a collection of Things Overheard in Devon – samples:
“Joyce, what did you do with my teacake?”
“Has anyone here lost a sunhat?”
I slept very well and it was highly restful and I’m glad we went.
J's mother sent us some photos of the trip, and while I can enjoy them as a record of us having a nice time, my pleasure is tempered slightly because I look really chubby in every photo. It would be nice if the camera was lying, but I don't think it is.
I am not taking this too much to heart. J described the photos as "lovely" before I had seen them, and I'm sure he genuinely thinks I look nice in them. I may cringe gently, but nobody else cares particularly.
However! This should spur me on in continuing with the healthy eating and trying to move a bit more than I currently do. My efforts in this direction are going OK as far as food is concerned, but not exercise because two days after we returned from Devon I started coming down with a cough, which is still with me (that's almost two weeks). I'm going to the doctor later today, as I'm too short of breath to do anything much, and frankly it's getting me down a bit.
* This is now my official description - see comments to last post. I would say that the “wholesome” bit is pretty accurate. Nobody would ever mistake me, even at a distance, for someone who is edgy, louche or slinky. Despite efforts in my late adolescence to wear a lot of black, read intellectual books and cultivate a taste for international cinema, I am still a fundamentally unsophisticated person, and I still like doing pretty much the same things I did when I was ten. Some might call this boring.