Steamy windows

          A few window views taken along the trip from Paignton to Dartmouth on the “Dartmouth Steam Railway”…






          More from before : Brixham, Paignton and Torquay …  Aka “Torbay“.

Age of steam

        What age do little boys grow up?

          A question I’ve asked with raised eyebrows on many occasions, but it seems there is no answer, little boys don’t grow up at any age… They just turn into grumpy old men.

          We make an “entertaining” pair at the moment because my being one of “those women” at “that age”, means moods have been known to swing from a sweet six year old to a raging mad axe women in a matter of seconds, Hubby is just as capable of changing from a little boy into a grumpy old man at the flick of a switch.

          It was with the aim of appealing to the little boy in him that I planned a day out from Paignton to Dartmouth on the “Dartmouth Steam Railway“.


          We were in Paignton the day before and so although not really necessary, we bought tickets then to avoid any queues which might happen before our train.  As it was, we were up and about earlier than expected so we’re pleased to find that our tickets were valid at earlier times than our booking.


          On arrival we were still early for the train before ours so Hubby went out onto the platform to enjoy the sunshine and I poked around in the huge gift shop. I didn’t really intend buying anything, but I enjoyed just wasting the time with all the brightly coloured gifts, the tiny little trinkets and the variety of children’s toys on offer.  By the time I arrived on the platform it was becoming quite crowded so I just took my photo of the platform avove their heads.


          The train arrived and strangely, the engine wasn’t pulling the carriages, it was pushing them, but my chance for a photo arrived when it began to swap ends ready to go again.


          Inside the carriage everything was beautifully refurbished.

          Whereas many of my childhood holidays were spent in Torbay, Hubby’s were spent in the “Isle of Man” , he comments often about the place, a place which Ive visited as an adult and enjoyed very much, but adult eyes can never quite compare to happy childhood memories.

          Beautifully refurbished as it was, I had to agree with hubby that maybe there would have been a little more charm, and of course excitement with an older, more rickety carriage.

          If you ever get chance to ride up to “Snaefell” on the old Isle of man steam train… You simply must go… I insist.


          I couldn’t resist a picture of the platform through the open doorway of the carriage.  The picture, I’m sure. Is not to everyone’s taste, but I do like to peer through things and add frames to the inside of my pictures.  The open window of the door itself features in many pictures I took along the route.


          After a little while Hubby announced that we were coming up to a tunnel.  His mind works on logic, cause and effect, and rightly so he prides himself in knowing more often than not what will happen before it actually does.  He saw the lights come on in the carriage and sumerised the carriage would soon be plunged into darkness… As we weren’t expecting a sudden eclipse of the sun, the most logical happening to expect was a tunnel.

          I don’t notice the clues, I bumble through life blissfully unaware of any impending doom and marveling at the beautiful things as they happen along the way.


          As predicted, the tunnel arrived, and the carriage glowed beautifully in the light from the ceiling.


          We arrived in Kingwear for our ferry connection to Dartmouth and again the engine changed ends to push the carriages back to Paignton.  People waited on the platform for their pictures… I’m short, so very often have to find a different vantage point for my pictures so I climbed up onto one of the platform benches to shoot above their heads.


          Before long the other passengers had their pictures and wandered off leaving me an almost empty platform for my turn with the camera.


          More from before : Brixham, Paignton and Torquay …  Aka “Torbay“.

Paignton harbour


          After spending a few days in Torquay, reviving a few old memories as well as making a few new ones, Hubby and I found ourselves on our last afternoon, in Brixham Harbour, making the decision of which bus to catch back to our holiday base in Paignton when we realised we could catch a boat back instead.

          Earlier in the day we’d taken a bus to Torquay to investigate the street and craft market, followed by a bus to Brixham but for some reason it had completely slipped both our minds that Paignton had a harbour too and we could get a boat to there.

          We both boarded our little ferry with an air of curiosity as to where we would be dropped off.  I’m quite used to the feeling of uncertainty, I’ve been living with it for the last twenty-five years or so since “Eclampsia“, happened, but Hubby very seldom forgets anything, it must have been a strange feeling for him indeed.

          However, as our little boat pulled into the harbour, and as we walked towards the cream and blue harbour buildings, we both remembered times gone past.

          Hubby remembered the little stalls and the shops and drinking establishments along the road looking down on the harbour and I remember visiting the toilet buildings with our girls and Mum-in-law, as well as recalling a strong feeling of being “told off” as a kid myself for running ahead through the stone corridor through the harbour buildings and out towards the harbour itself. 


        More from before : Brixham, Paignton and Torquay …  Aka “Torbay“.