Category Archives: Sophie loves Brixham

October sun

As I watch the world through rain-battered windows, white horses galloping across the bay to the invisible shores beyond and the wind, still eerie in the daylight, ricocheting off my neighbours’ walls, it’s worth remembering that not every day is like this.

Just the other side of the weekend we woke to blue skies, the sea calm and the sunlight glinting off cliffs as far away as Dorset. The air was crisp but still warm in the sun. It didn’t feel much like autumn then at all.

I followed Arthur up through the woods and along the path to the fort. His excitement was palpable: as with all of our little adventures, even the well-trodden ones, there was a sense that anything might happen.

When we got there, it wasn’t clear whether he had shrunk or the world had grown. Whichever it was, he looked so tiny as he ran around being chased by his shadow that it almost took my breath away.

Once his efforts had exhausted him he came back to me again, both bigger and smaller now and ready for sleep: peaceful and contented in the October sun.

Word of the week: autumn

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There’s no escaping it: after an unseasonably warm September, and some tantalisingly sunny days at the beginning of this month, autumn has finally arrived.

I’ve never been that great at dealing with this time of year. I thrive on light and sunshine, and as the nights begin to close in I can’t help but feel a lingering sense of dread. Things are a lot better than they used to be, now that I’m out of the city and not doing a job that means never seeing daylight in the winter months. And this year Arthur and I have actually been enjoying the coming of autumn rather a lot.

We’ve made the most of it being a bit colder, wrapping up warm and snuggling up whenever we get the chance.

There’s generally been lots of time for snuggling: we’ve had some pretty spectacular rain this week, and there’s been nothing for it but to stay inside. Arthur’s really embraced this. He’s been having tea parties with his animal friends, and devouring books like they’re going out of fashion.

We’ve been getting out of the house whenever we can too, breathing in the changing landscape of the sea and sky. The air is deliciously refreshing, and there’s a whole hat collection for us to revisit.

To fuel our way through this seasonal shift, we’ve been doing our best to eat healthily. We had our first roast last Sunday – I’m looking forward to many more of those – and I’ve been drinking even more water than usual.

One of the problems with this time of year in the past has been that I’m not terribly good at making the right choices – I know what will get me motivated, make me feel better, but actually doing it is another matter. Having an awesome toddler to hang out with is obviously one way to make making the right choices easier. And I’ve also been getting a helping hand from Tea with Miss Beatrix’s #BashSAD challenge.

I don’t feel sad this year – and that’s despite an October which so far has held more than a usual amount of sorrow (more on that another time). In fact I’m looking forward to embracing autumn – and even winter. There is so much in this life to enjoy, and I intend to make the most of it.

A boy, a ball and a hula hoop

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It was the end of a long day working on the novel, and it was most definitely time to get outside. Arthur grabbed his ball, I grabbed my hula hoop, and we headed for the patch of grass which overlooks the bay. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows and bathing everything in its gentle orange light.

Arthur was off as soon as we passed the cars and I could let go of his hand. I watched him running and giggling whilst looping the hoop around my hips, breathing in the sea air and the view.

There were dogs out too for their evening stroll, some coming over to sniff around and say hello. Arthur loved that. He loved throwing his ball too, and trying his very best to catch it.

It wasn’t long before he’d commandeered the hula hoop, defying physics in his attempts to spin it round himself but ultimately content just to take it for a walk.

It was a beautiful evening, and there were moments when I caught him just sitting and looking up at the sky, marvelling at the bigness of it all.

I love those moments: so simple and yet so precious. Just me, my boy, a ball and a hula hoop. Bliss.

An afternoon in the 1940s

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Since we first moved to Brixham three years ago I’ve been wanting to make it over to the 1940s weekend at Lupton House. It’s a gorgeous building anyway – we go there every week for toddler music, but any excuse for an extra visit is a good thing! As well as that, this annual event promised to be a celebration of all things vintage, with something to keep all of us entertained.

We finally managed to go this weekend, and it definitely didn’t disappoint. It was awesome to see the space transformed, bedecked with bunting and vintage vehicles from cars to tractors to tanks. Lots of people had made a real effort with their outfits which added to the general sense of stepping back in time. I was quite pleased with what we managed to dig out from our wardrobes too!

Arthur was fascinated by the old fairground stalls, especially the beautiful organ. He even managed to hook a duck – with a little help from daddy.

The house itself was looking suitably majestic, and Arthur had great fun exploring. It’s exciting to see Lupton being slowly restored to its former glory, though it’s definitely quite a project to take on!

Inside the house was a brilliantly eclectic selection of stalls with wartime music drifting out over the lawn – which was itself crowded with relics of the past, including some very convincing military personnel discussing their strategy for the upcoming display.

All in all it was a fantastic afternoon, and we’ll be back next year for sure. We might even try to get a babysitter so we can make it to the victory dance on Saturday evening – and I’m definitely keen to take advantage of the 1940s beauty parlour for a more authentic look!

As Arthur gets older it’s events like this that we can use to bring history to life for him – and for us it is an important (and enjoyable) reminder of the fabric of the past that underpins the world around us.

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S is for sea

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There is something about swimming in the sea that just cannot be surpassed.

The sense of freedom that comes from knowing that, if you wanted to, you could just keep going. The relaxing buoyancy of the salty water, supporting you as you recline and look up at the sky. The little rushes of excitement that come from the ebb and flow of the waves, reminding you that you are at the mercy of nature’s power.

There’s the refreshing coldness too. It might take your breath away at first, but once the tingling in your limbs have stopped and your body has become acclimatised to its new environment you cannot help but submerge your head beneath the waves to be enveloped by that invigorating chill once again.

I think that last part might be a side effect of living by the sea. I’ve never been super keen on British waters, preferring the more gentle touch of the water in warmer climes. This summer though, when we were in Barcelona, I found that there was something missing when I clambered down the beach and dived in. It was just not cold enough to give me what I was looking for.

It was the prospect of seeing the sea every day, of being able to go for a dip whenever the mood took me, that was one of the biggest lures for life in Brixham. When I lived in London I found myself craving it – an ache in my heart that could not be satisfied by even the most impressive lido. I want to be one of those people who dives beneath the waves every day, whatever the weather.

I’m not there quite yet, but it gives me a deep satisfaction to know that the sea is part of my daily life. I’m watching it out of the window now: a turquoise blue rising up to meet the sky at the horizon, white horses breaking gently as the breeze ruffles its surface. It looks so inviting I don’t think I’m going to be able to resist for much longer. In fact when Arthur wakes up from his nap we might just have to go for a swim.

S is for sea.

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast Dove.

An unexpected dip

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Well, I say unexpected. It wasn’t entirely – as we were dashing out of the door I knew that a trip to the beach without Arthur ending up in the sea was unlikely. We were only planning on a bit of a stroll though, a blast of sea air to blow the cobwebs away and break up the monotony of a Sunday where both me and Leigh had way too much work to do.

When we got to St Mary’s Bay, a beach on the other side of Brixham that we don’t visit nearly as often as we should, Arthur was as thrilled as we were by the wide expanse of sand left by the tide. Not quite as thrilled though as he was by the prospect of running towards the waves that were gently crashing in the distance…

It soon became clear that he wasn’t going to be able to resist the lure of the water, and we stripped him down to his vest suit for a paddle.

As as his enthusiasm increased I was glad of the shorts I’d slipped into the bag as an afterthought. This would have been the point at which any sensible parent would have steered the toddler to drier sand further up the beach, but I’ve never been very good at ignoring the call of the sea.

And then moments later, he was in. An errant wave, a little stumble, and Arthur was up to his neck in the water.

It didn’t bother him of course. The water actually wasn’t all that cold, and after the initial surprise of it he was off, flying across the sand.

He was drawn to the stones that lay scattered across the beach, fascinated by the little pools that formed around them where his toes would disappear if he got too close.

It was just what he needed to be honest, just what we all needed – a bit of freedom and mess and a break from playing by the rules.

We did draw the line when it looked like he was going to tackle those waves again. Next time we’ll make sure we’re better prepared, even if it is September…

But for this trip it was time to strip off his soaking wet clothes, attempt to dry him with my jeans and bundle him up in the sling ready for the climb up the steps and back to the car.

We all ended up covered in sand, but there was definitely no sign of those cobwebs.

R is for reflections

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I don’t think I’ve ever lived somewhere before where a simple walk into town takes me past so much beauty. You can take the high road, past the multicoloured cottages which look down over the harbour, but more often than not I choose the steps which wind their way down to Breakwater beach.

The pebbles are not easy to traverse, but it’s worth it for the sound of the waves pulling at the shore, the smell of the seaweed and the breeze which whips its way around the cliffs. From there it’s only a little further to the marina.

I love to look at boats – have often wandered down to unprotected jetties in foreign ports just to peek at the vessels that float there, full of so much potential. It’s more than a little bit surreal having them on my doorstep here, and whilst the security in place means I rarely get up close I always pause at that point in the harbour wall, listen to the wind in the halliards and breathe in the heady mix of saltwater and diesel that lingers deliciously in the air.

My last sailing trip was from this marina. Having been a keen but not entirely competent crew member on many yachts over the years I finally decided that doing a day skipper course would be a good idea. I was four months pregnant at the time, and haven’t managed to fit in any sailing since.

When Arthur’s a bit bigger though I cannot wait to introduce him to the unadulterated pleasure of travelling along powered only by the wind.

But in the meantime we will continue to enjoy these boats vicariously as they bob gently at their moorings, masts pointing proudly up into the sky which is in turn reflected beneath them on the mirrored surface of the depths below.

R is for reflections.

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.

Our Shoalstone summer

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Yesterday marked the end of the season at Shoalstone Pool. It seems to have come round far too quickly, especially with this gloriously warm September. But it has been a fabulous few months, and I think we can safely say we made the most of the incredible facility we have on our doorstep.

It feels like a very long time ago that we were doubting whether the pool would even open this year at all: when there were still wranglings with Torbay council over funding and the fallout from their ill-omened deal with a local dive company.

Luckily Brixham town council came to its rescue and it opened for the season at the end of May: we took our first dip of the summer a couple of weeks later.

Since then we’ve been there as often as we can. Arthur’s swimming has come on in leaps and bounds: back in June he was still holding on to us as we took those first dips in the then icy water.

But then came his float suit, and with it a whole new lease of life. He loves the independence it has given him, and confidently navigates himself around the pool as we hover nearby.

It’s been fantastic to see the pool so busy over the summer holidays – kids learning to swim or splashing about under the watchful eyes of the lifeguards, adults doing lengths with a look of bliss on their faces, locals and tourists alike enjoying the safety of the enclosed pool whilst still getting the invigorating benefits of the seawater.

I reckon we’ve toughened up quite a lot over the summer. The water has actually been pretty warm at points – well, for the UK anyway – but even recently, when our miserable August weather cooled it back down, it’s actually started to feel quite amazing. I certainly don’t flinch so much when I’m walking in with Arthur…

And of course the location is all but impossible to beat. When he’s not in the pool itself Arthur has loved gazing over the wall to the sea, watching boats or fishermen and even catching the odd glimpse of our local friendly seal.

With a summer like this, it was apt that our final swim of the year should be particularly special. We were determined to get down there yesterday but as so often the day ran away with us and it was almost five o’clock by the time we were walking out of the door. As we approached the pool it became clear that it was an especially high tide: the sea was lapping over the wall by the deep end, and even the shallow end was not particularly shallow.

Although it was a gorgeous afternoon the water was rougher than usual, and we did wonder the wisdom for a moment of taking a toddler in for a dip. We needn’t have worried though: Arthur of course took it in his stride, loving the novelty and the sense of occasion and happily swimming along beside his daddy.

He ventured out on to the ‘poolside’ too, splashing through the water to take a peek over the sea wall.

As the sun began to set and the tide continued to rise, it was almost as if the sea was reclaiming the pool for another year. As the summer fades and autumn turns into winter those sea walls will be battered by storms, and we will marvel that we ever swam in sunshine there. Shoalstone Pool is such a very precious place, and I cannot wait for it to be reborn again next year.

To find out more about the pool and how you can help support it go to www.shoalstoneseawaterpool.co.uk.

O is for ostrich

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I’ve never especially been one for zoos. Peering in on caged animals has always felt just a little bit distasteful, and the crowds in London were enough to put me off entirely.

Since we’ve moved down here, though, I’ve become quite attached to our little zoo in Paignton. It’s not actually so little – most of the animals seem to have plenty of space, and they’re all pretty chilled. The conservation work the zoo’s involved in is widely advertised, and suddenly that makes a lot more sense of what they’re all about. Watching Arthur meet animals up close that he would otherwise be unlikely to ever see in real life is quite magical too, and I can see that as he grows the zoo is going to be an important part of his education about the wider world.

We’ve become members of Paignton Zoo, and try to visit as often as we can. It’s great getting to know the space and the animals better, not feeling like we have to race round it all but instead being able to focus in on particular zones. There are some areas that I’m becoming especially fond of.

There’s the camels’ enclosure, where as you watch them lolloping around you can gaze out past the neighbouring houses to the sea beyond. I often wonder what it must be like to live in one of those houses which back right up to the zoo. The noises that fill the air after all the visitors have gone home must be quite surreal – more like being on the African Savannah than the English Riviera.

At the other end of the spectrum I love the petting zoo too. We only discovered it on a recent visit, but Arthur loved being able to go right up to the animals, sitting and chatting with a goat as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

My first favourite spot though, and one that still makes me smile, is the one where the ostriches and zebras hang out together. Of course in the wild animals wouldn’t be segregated as they are so often in zoos, split up into their own little areas with information labels to make them easier to identify. I realise there are probably all sorts of complications with integrating different species of animals more fully in captivity, but still it’s lovely to see these two happily sharing their space. I’m not sure you could get two more different creatures side by side either, though they are pretty well colour co-ordinated!

O is for ostrich.

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.

Airplane!

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On warm summer evenings with the last of the light reflecting off the water we have often stood and looked at the Riviera Wheel glittering across the bay. We have said many times that we should make the time to ride it, and last week – finding ourselves in Torquay on a glorious day with an hour to kill – we finally did.

Arthur could not conceal his excitement as we approached: he cried out ‘Airplane! Airplane!’, pointing at the swinging cabins which circled high above us.

Once we were up he was mesmerised. The views were spectacular over the marina and the town, with the beautiful blue waters of Torbay stretching out into the distance.

It it was a place to step back from the heat and the hecticness of the streets below, to pause and reflect on just what a beautiful part of the country we live in, to regain a little perspective. Arthur was so transfixed by the views that Leigh and I even had a few moments to revel in the romance of it all.

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