Going away for a few days after Christmas is a great idea, you should try it. We booked three nights at The Blue Ball Inn, Countasbury, Devon, from the 27th to the 29th, basically the day after Boxing Day. The Inn is a former coaching inn dating back to the 13th century with classic beams and stone walls. It is located about two miles out of Lynmouth. Other than the Inn, the only other activities are walking on Exmoor and praying in the church across the road. This was the fourth time we'd been; it's almost become a home from home. 😄
The trip down from our house usually takes about three and a half hours. We generally set off fairly early in the morning, but given this time around, we're supposedly in the depths of winter (I seriously considered cutting my lawns on Boxing Day. It was so nice.), and we couldn't book in until three o'clock in the afternoon we decided to set off at around twelve midday. It would turn out to be one of those: "It seemed like a good idea at the time." decisions. While forecasters had warned that Storm Gerrit was about to hit the UK, we set off in extremely mild conditions that is until we got to Worcester on the M5 and the heavens opened. By the time we reached Bristol, we were definitely being blown about. Bristol, for some reason, is an utter nightmare to get through. Even with the four-lane sections, it's usually slow, but Storm Gerrit decided to flood part of the motorway just for fun. It eventually took us five hours to get there!
The inn has changed hands a few times over the years and is now currently owned by ST Austell Brewery; one nice (new) touch is a crate they put in your room for your dog; you can see it by the door behind Charlie. It contained two bowels, some treats, a can of dog-friendly beer and a tennis ball. The Blue Ball is dog-friendly, and dogs are allowed everywhere, including the restaurant.
They've even installed a dog treat station in the bar!
Because we arrived so late on the first night, we didn't do a lot, plus it was chucking it down with rain. The following day, we went to Barnstaple (See Christmas in the bin!); Storm Gerrit was still in full force and yet the Pond Gods were smiling on us as it seemed every time we went somewhere, on arrival, the sun came out! And within a few minutes of getting back in the car, the heavens opened again. Very strange. While most UK towns' High Streets are dying, Barnstaple has a thriving variety of shops, even a Marks & Spencers "Mum would love it here." exclaimed the misses; personally, I can never understand the fascination with 'shopping'. The wife bought a couple of tops and bought a selection of hand-made chocolates. I did tell her to buy some more, but she didn't take any notice; later that night, I had to listen to her moaning that she should have bought more as they were gorgeous. 🤦♂️
I got stressed out
Later that night, we ate at the The Bath HotelBath Hotel Lynmouth. Yet another place that made our dog Charlie feel welcome. When we were shown to our table as the waitress walked away, I thought I heard her say: "Come to the bar when you're ready to order." I say I heard her, but for some reason, I wasn't sure I had. We sat and waited and waited, but nobody came. "You know, I think we have to order at the bar?" I said to the missus, now, this place is a little bit upmarket, so I was slightly taken aback, if truth be told. The bar was rammed! I'm already slightly stressed that we'd waited, but I ordered venison for myself and beer-battered cod for the wife: "Can I have a J2O and a cider as well, please?" they would prove to be fateful words or, rather, the wrong words, as we shall see. "What on earth is that!" the wife exclaimed "Why have you bought me a pint?" err? Ooh? "I didn't think; I just ordered and grabbed the drinks. It's so busy up there I couldn't hear myself think." I said. "And since when have I drunk normal cider? Sweet cider, you know I drink sweet cider." I was clearly well and truly in the dog house. I quickly went to the bar and bought the correct drink.
Not long after, my venison arrived, and I started to tuck in. "Where's my food? You have ordered my food, haven't you?" the blood drained from my face; of course, I have; I know I have. I'm now standing up and pacing around the dining room like a lost sheep. I can see into the kitchen, and the waitress is standing, talking to the chef. Like a typical Brit, I wait politely for her to come out while the wife seethes in her seat. Finally, the waitress comes out clutching, Praise Be To The Pond Gods! Battered cod and chips, phew! It was not very good, really. They should have served both meals together, plus it would have saved me a bit of grief.
We had a wander around the harbour, which was beautiful with all the lights, and we must have seen at least six Christmas trees all lit up. They even had one on the seafront decorated with fishing tackle, lobster pots and a lifebuoy.
Minehead, here we come
On the second day, we headed over to Minehead; sure enough, Storm Garret was still drizzling, but yet again, we arrived at our destination, and the clouds parted, and Mr Blue Sky appeared; if ever the sun shone on the righteous, it was certainly shinning on the Cannon clan. Minehead is another place we've visited a few times. I usually park in the West Somerset Railway steam railway car park and always pay far too much for our parking. The last time we came down, I paid £5.00 something, and this time was no exception; I paid £5.50. I must need my head tested because we're never there long enough to warrant £5.50. We're not that keen on Minehead; the shops, such as they are, are not all that interesting, although we did buy three handmade flapjacks and the dead USB C plug mentioned in Christmas in the Bin! We mainly go there because the wife likes reliving her childhood in the amusement arcade, where we wasted money on the 2p shove machines. There is Butlins up the other end of the town, but we've no desire to go in there either.
Looking at the picture above, you'll see two blue things set slightly apart. The first one is a water dispenser for your water bottle. The second one further back is the telescope that stole the wife's 20p. She was hoping to have a look at Wales, but the thing just ate her money and remained blank. Within eight minutes of taking the picture, the heavens opened again with a vengeance after we got back in the car.
Let's have a drink
We spent the evening back at the Blue Ball, sipping whiskey while the wife had sweet cider, and we all reclined in the two comfy leather chairs by the fire. A perfect end to a perfect day.
Image created by irisworld
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I've had some Christmases in hotels. It can be good. I know I went to a Cubs thing at Minehead Butlins and we trekked across Exmoor. Blimey, that's a long time ago. Not sure I've been back since. A lot of these seaside towns are much the same and all about separating you from your money.
Looks like you enjoyed it anyway.