A LOVE NOTE TO DEVON
When my Dad was 3 years old, he moved to Devon. My Grandma NeNe & Grandpops fancied a change from Wolverhampton, and wanted to live somewhere by the sea (and if you're a fellow land-locked Midlander, I'm sure you can relate to that instinctive pull to go anywhere where there's water). So they swapped the Black Country for the English Riviera, murky grey skies for gorgeous blue ones emblazoned with sunshine, and set up home in the South West of England, settling in a little house on a hill over looking the sea. My Grandpops set up his own butchery in a nearby town, and my Grandma sold ice creams on the seafront of the local park. They bought a boat, they went sailing, they'd spend days at the beach with their friends, they'd drive across the cliffs in my Grandpops' BMW saloon... When my Dad talks about his childhood, or shows me some of the seemingly endless photographs he has from that era, the one thing that always strikes me is how idyllic everything seemed back then. Devon seems like the most beautiful, perfect backdrop to live your life against, and sometimes I wish I too had lived out my childhood years in such a magical place, rich with wanderlust.
As a Midlander myself (Derby represent), I also possess that whimsical fantasy of escaping to somewhere by the sea, and wondering what it must be like to have that vast expanse of natural wonder right there on your doorstep. That being said, I believe I have been so very fortunate in life, because I have been able to experience both worlds: city life (ok so city might be a bit of a generous description of my dear Derby), and beach life, with a bit of countryside thrown in between. Because most of my Dad's memories are of life in Devon, his affinity and adoration for it have become a lifelong pull, yearn and commitment. He can't seem to let it go. It is his home in the truest sense, that one place where you know you will always belong, regardless of where life may take you. And that means Devon was always somewhere that he wanted to share with my Mum, me, my sister. It is a place so dear to my Dad, so treasured, special, precious, that he simply had to make sure we experienced the magic of Devon too. So ever since I was a little baby, my Mum and Dad have taken me there. Every single year without fail. And that means Devon has always been such an important, integral, special part of my life too, and for that I will always be so grateful.
When I think back to my childhood years, it's almost like I lived two lives, two existences, and both of them felt like home. There were always two places, two counties, that I belonged too. Two places I could see on the motorway sign, and instantly feel that tug of belonging in response to. Two places I knew like the back of my hand. Two places that felt comforting, safe, instinctive. Two houses in which to live. Two places that shaped who I am, and who I have become. Two places I have created precious memories of my life within. One place where I did most of my growing and living, and one place which served as an annual reminder of how far I'd come. One that taught me who I am, one that taught me who I want to be, could be. And both these places, my homes, have made me who I am. Both have taught me so many things about me, life, other people, the world. I can walk through streets and parks, drive past seafronts, countryside, cities and towns, pass buildings, shops, restaurants, cafes, people, and I can see all my memories embedded within them, sketched into them, defined by them. And I consider myself so lucky.
And now I too possess that desire and drive to share my beloved Devon with the people I love and care about most. I want them to see the magic too, pass on the gift like an infinite baton. I want to take them to all those little places my Dad showed me. All those places that resonate with my heart and soul. I want to take them on day trips and adventures and go exploring far and wide. I want them to feel that flushed, breathless, sweetly satisfying feeling when we finally make it back home late at night. Sand between our toes, lungs filled with sea air, hair wavy and wild, bodies exhausted but content as we tiptoe down the driveway, illuminated by moonlight, to the sound of waves rolling and crashing on the horizon. I want to take them to all those landmarks and destinations, and then to the myriad of beautiful pit stops that seem to always lead the way.
I want them to know what it's like to stand on the pier and look out across the bay, on a Saturday evening when the sky is streaked with rainbows, the alcoves are studded with hazy lights, and the boats are bobbing on the water. I want them to know what it's like to take the ferry to Dartmouth, sit in the little botanical park, and look out across the water to the hundreds of colourful houses on the crests of the hills. I want them to know what it's like to drive to Totnes, Torquay, Babbacombe, Brixham with the local radio playing all those wonderful, summery, timeless classics, and the sun shining in the sky. I want them to know what it's like when it pours with rain, or the winds roar so magnificently on the coastline, and how it somehow feels homely, ethereal, magical, exciting.
I want them to know what it's like to climb up the cliffs and hills, right up to highest point, and see the endless views that make you feel as if you're on very tip of the world. The cruise ships on the horizon, and the point where the deep blue sea meets the sky. I want them to see the yachts in Salcombe Bay, and eat fish and chips at the little restaurant on the top of Brixham harbour. I want them to know what it's like to play evening frisbee at Broadsands and have cream teas with real Cornish cream and run into the sweeping tides bare feet and care free. I want them to know what it's like to walk on pebbly beaches and collect shells, or that feeling when your bare feet first sink into the plush golden sand. I want to show them Cockinton Village with the little pink shop and acres of nature to explore. I want them to know how it feels to be absorbed by blue skies, golden sun, lush greenery, soothing warmth and happiness. I want to show them Paignton Zoo, the arcades which yearn for every 2p coin in your purse, the pub on the seafront that does the nicest Sunday roasts, that cafe in Torquay that does the best coffee.
I want them to know how it feels to have your soul full from exploration, adventure, simple joys. To know what it's like to have every day be poised with excitement and endless possibility. To see these lands of wonder and beauty, nestled right on the edge of our great nation. To know how it feels to drive through Bristol and Somerset, and see that sign for Devon appear on the sign up ahead. To know how that moment feels, when you finally see the sea after a four hour drive.To know how it feels to miss somewhere so inexplicably and incessantly and constantly. To know how it feels to think of Devon as home. I want to share all of this, with everyone. Absolutely everyone. This place, Devon... sometimes I swear it is paradise on earth, and I don't think I will ever stop loving it, missing it, yearning for it. Sometimes I really do believe I must've left a little piece of my soul there, and it's always waiting for me to come home and find it once more. I love Devon more than words could possibly express, and I truly cannot wait to be reunited with my beloved little paradise once more.
When my Dad was 3 years old, he moved to Devon. My Grandma NeNe & Grandpops fancied a change from Wolverhampton, and wanted to live somewhere by the sea (and if you're a fellow land-locked Midlander, I'm sure you can relate to that instinctive pull to go anywhere where there's water). So they swapped the Black Country for the English Riviera, murky grey skies for gorgeous blue ones emblazoned with sunshine, and set up home in the South West of England, settling in a little house on a hill over looking the sea. My Grandpops set up his own butchery in a nearby town, and my Grandma sold ice creams on the seafront of the local park. They bought a boat, they went sailing, they'd spend days at the beach with their friends, they'd drive across the cliffs in my Grandpops' BMW saloon... When my Dad talks about his childhood, or shows me some of the seemingly endless photographs he has from that era, the one thing that always strikes me is how idyllic everything seemed back then. Devon seems like the most beautiful, perfect backdrop to live your life against, and sometimes I wish I too had lived out my childhood years in such a magical place, rich with wanderlust.
As a Midlander myself (Derby represent), I also possess that whimsical fantasy of escaping to somewhere by the sea, and wondering what it must be like to have that vast expanse of natural wonder right there on your doorstep. That being said, I believe I have been so very fortunate in life, because I have been able to experience both worlds: city life (ok so city might be a bit of a generous description of my dear Derby), and beach life, with a bit of countryside thrown in between. Because most of my Dad's memories are of life in Devon, his affinity and adoration for it have become a lifelong pull, yearn and commitment. He can't seem to let it go. It is his home in the truest sense, that one place where you know you will always belong, regardless of where life may take you. And that means Devon was always somewhere that he wanted to share with my Mum, me, my sister. It is a place so dear to my Dad, so treasured, special, precious, that he simply had to make sure we experienced the magic of Devon too. So ever since I was a little baby, my Mum and Dad have taken me there. Every single year without fail. And that means Devon has always been such an important, integral, special part of my life too, and for that I will always be so grateful.
When I think back to my childhood years, it's almost like I lived two lives, two existences, and both of them felt like home. There were always two places, two counties, that I belonged too. Two places I could see on the motorway sign, and instantly feel that tug of belonging in response to. Two places I knew like the back of my hand. Two places that felt comforting, safe, instinctive. Two houses in which to live. Two places that shaped who I am, and who I have become. Two places I have created precious memories of my life within. One place where I did most of my growing and living, and one place which served as an annual reminder of how far I'd come. One that taught me who I am, one that taught me who I want to be, could be. And both these places, my homes, have made me who I am. Both have taught me so many things about me, life, other people, the world. I can walk through streets and parks, drive past seafronts, countryside, cities and towns, pass buildings, shops, restaurants, cafes, people, and I can see all my memories embedded within them, sketched into them, defined by them. And I consider myself so lucky.
And now I too possess that desire and drive to share my beloved Devon with the people I love and care about most. I want them to see the magic too, pass on the gift like an infinite baton. I want to take them to all those little places my Dad showed me. All those places that resonate with my heart and soul. I want to take them on day trips and adventures and go exploring far and wide. I want them to feel that flushed, breathless, sweetly satisfying feeling when we finally make it back home late at night. Sand between our toes, lungs filled with sea air, hair wavy and wild, bodies exhausted but content as we tiptoe down the driveway, illuminated by moonlight, to the sound of waves rolling and crashing on the horizon. I want to take them to all those landmarks and destinations, and then to the myriad of beautiful pit stops that seem to always lead the way.
I want them to know what it's like to stand on the pier and look out across the bay, on a Saturday evening when the sky is streaked with rainbows, the alcoves are studded with hazy lights, and the boats are bobbing on the water. I want them to know what it's like to take the ferry to Dartmouth, sit in the little botanical park, and look out across the water to the hundreds of colourful houses on the crests of the hills. I want them to know what it's like to drive to Totnes, Torquay, Babbacombe, Brixham with the local radio playing all those wonderful, summery, timeless classics, and the sun shining in the sky. I want them to know what it's like when it pours with rain, or the winds roar so magnificently on the coastline, and how it somehow feels homely, ethereal, magical, exciting.
I want them to know what it's like to climb up the cliffs and hills, right up to highest point, and see the endless views that make you feel as if you're on very tip of the world. The cruise ships on the horizon, and the point where the deep blue sea meets the sky. I want them to see the yachts in Salcombe Bay, and eat fish and chips at the little restaurant on the top of Brixham harbour. I want them to know what it's like to play evening frisbee at Broadsands and have cream teas with real Cornish cream and run into the sweeping tides bare feet and care free. I want them to know what it's like to walk on pebbly beaches and collect shells, or that feeling when your bare feet first sink into the plush golden sand. I want to show them Cockinton Village with the little pink shop and acres of nature to explore. I want them to know how it feels to be absorbed by blue skies, golden sun, lush greenery, soothing warmth and happiness. I want to show them Paignton Zoo, the arcades which yearn for every 2p coin in your purse, the pub on the seafront that does the nicest Sunday roasts, that cafe in Torquay that does the best coffee.
I want them to know how it feels to have your soul full from exploration, adventure, simple joys. To know what it's like to have every day be poised with excitement and endless possibility. To see these lands of wonder and beauty, nestled right on the edge of our great nation. To know how it feels to drive through Bristol and Somerset, and see that sign for Devon appear on the sign up ahead. To know how that moment feels, when you finally see the sea after a four hour drive.To know how it feels to miss somewhere so inexplicably and incessantly and constantly. To know how it feels to think of Devon as home. I want to share all of this, with everyone. Absolutely everyone. This place, Devon... sometimes I swear it is paradise on earth, and I don't think I will ever stop loving it, missing it, yearning for it. Sometimes I really do believe I must've left a little piece of my soul there, and it's always waiting for me to come home and find it once more. I love Devon more than words could possibly express, and I truly cannot wait to be reunited with my beloved little paradise once more.
No comments:
Post a Comment