Stories of smuggling, seagulls, shades of pastel...the first half of our week in Appledore was just dreamy.
My parents had booked
Curlew Cottage for a couple of weeks so we drove down to join them. The long drive wasn't as ghastly as we'd always imagined it would be (just over 4 1/2 hours) and we dined on the obligatory car journey sweets - Starburst, wine gums and fruit gums - that Mr M had popped in the glove box. That said, we still got stuck going past Stonehenge and the pigs - seriously people, we all know what the stones and pigs look like, no need to slow down to check that they're still there.
The gentle pace of life in Appledore was just what we needed. Irsha Street is just wide enough for one car and people are used to waiting. We waited behind a fisherman as he loaded up his car, marvelling at how much he could get into the boot including the boat motor! It was so refreshing to not have a queue of irate I'm-ever-so-important-I-must-get-through city folk gesticulating and honking behind us.
We pulled up outside the house to unload the car - for two of us we had a ridiculous amount of stuff - and got our first glimpse of the little, wonky cottage. If you look closely at the planter you'll be able to see the little beach huts. Lots of the planters along the street had different scenes - oyster catchers, boats, fish - just charming.
A lot of the cottages have two doors - a heavy front door and then a second glass door so that when you're in, the front door can be left open and the light can stream in through the second door. The added benefit is that it makes all of the cottages feel incredibly welcoming as you walk along the street, listening to life running its course and helps satisfy that nosey gene that I know many of us share.
Our bedroom was on the ground floor with views of the estuary (through the two large sash windows of the kitchen) along with the kitchen and bathroom. Up the stairs, past little hidden cupboards that go on and on, to the living room with the most amazing views of the estuary - you almost didn't want to leave.
The other two bedrooms are up here too along with the locked door to the room in the roof. As an aside - what is it with locked doors? I always have to try the handle even though I know it's locked.
The cottage is full of little hiding places and oddities. Rumour has it that the locked top room was used as a smugglers look out. The strange little cupboards would certainly have been useful for storing the hoard. Most of the cottages would have had steps down to the estuary - perfect for spiriting away secrets in the dead of night. You can still see some if you hang over the end and peer along the estuary wall.
There's something hypnotic about having this view at the end of the courtyard. We ate lunch overlooking the estuary each day, watching Mr and Mrs Blackbird fly in and out of their nest in the bush on the left. We would have had dinner out there too if it hadn't been so chilly!
Needless to say, my first night was filled with dreams of smuggling, treachery and a dash of Daphne du Maurier.
Irsha Street is full to the brim with prettiness. Which is probably why the majority of houses are holiday lets or second homes leaving only 21 permanent residents. We came upon this pretty country cottage. It almost looks out of place with no green field or gentle lowing of cattle. Mum and I were remarking on the stunning climbing rose over the doorway and the owner very kindly gave us one of its blooms.
Each time we walked along Irsha Street we noticed something new. Whether it was an interesting house name, an odd brass door knocker or an almost hidden passageway to the estuary.
This little house is rather appropriately named The Doll's House and is apparently a tiny tardis, tucked in between two rows of cottages. It's available to
rent - hard to believe it sleeps 4!
So, that's Irsha Street. Our first time there and we can see why my parents love staying there and keep going back albeit to a different cottage each time. So, just 274 more photos to go...I hope you don't mind a little dose of Devon each day.
There is something quite special about Tapeley. Open to the public with beautiful gardens, fields and a kitchen garden to explore, it has a mysterious air about it - as though you've spotted a gap in the fence and clambered through to see what you can find.
It feels refreshingly rustic - perhaps because it hasn't had the usual National Trust or English Heritage treatment - with hand painted signs and out of scale maps.
With map in hand, Mr M led the way down to the peaceful lake undisturbed and hidden by the high canopy. The path is steep coming back up and we all had to stop to catch our breath on the benches that had been strategically placed along the way. In fact, it almost felt like a bomb crater - although the shrubs and trees were far too established for that to be the case.
There's something quite daring about sharing space with rather large beasts - fortunately they really weren't that interested nor were the dishevelled sheep.
By the time we'd trekked back along the field to the house in the midday sun, we were gasping for a drink. The Orangery is the most beautiful tea room I have ever come across. I wish I had spent more time in there. The rooms inside housed retro, vintage delights from knitting books to cushion covers and posters. Tea and cake are served on vintage china. Divine. They even have a pine dresser with some of their little finds for sale.
We opted for ice cold Devonshire apple juice, served on the croquet lawn, and sat back to admire the borders.
The Italian terraces are just lovely - flaking brickwork, drying alium, agapanthus in bud and lavender bushes a-buzz with bees.
The pond was thick with lilies so white that my camera couldn't cope with the glare from the sun.
From the Italian terrace to the ice house and beyond to the walled kitchen garden. Rows of beans and artichokes baking in the sun.
A derelict glass house complete with underground furnace and cold frames.
An old gnarly vine finding its own way.
There are parts of Tapeley where time stands still and has done for some time. We hardly saw a soul when we visited midweek - I felt like the Lady of the Manor, if only I'd been wearing a tea dress. If you get a chance, do pop in. They have a calendar of events running this summer, and rumour has it that they are currently taking part in Country House Rescue.
Just look at that view.
Airy and bright - the view from inside must be breathtaking whether sheltering from the sun or a buffeting storm. Just perfect for an easel, a telescope, a comfy chair and a pile of books.
The ceiling is caving in and the weatherboards have rotted in places exposing its shell. Yet, when you peer over the hedge, the lawn has been perfectly mown.
If those weatherboards could talk, I hope they would speak of family holidays, afternoon tea, games and gaiety. Of chiffon and straw hats, fishing nets and buckets, Famous Five and jam sandwiches.
Scrabble is our usual evening game of choice when we're all on holiday together. Wordz comes a close second. We only managed one game of scrabble this time (check out 'skiving' - my first go, all seven letters = a gazillion points) for Mum and Dad introduced us to an incredibly addictive game that I haven't played since I was little. Dominoes. Love it. Fast paced, unpredictable and not too affected by wine.
Our holidays have rarely taken us to the long sandy beaches of childhood - when it would take time to walk to the sea for a paddle and even longer to return, bucket in hand filled with treasures of the deep.
This one reminded me of a gentle argyle.
Skern samphire - such an unexpected, breathtaking sight.
Stories of smuggling, seagulls, shades of pastel...the first half of our week in Appledore was just dreamy.
We pulled up outside the house to unload the car - for two of us we had a ridiculous amount of stuff - and got our first glimpse of the little, wonky cottage. If you look closely at the planter you'll be able to see the little beach huts. Lots of the planters along the street had different scenes - oyster catchers, boats, fish - just charming.
The other two bedrooms are up here too along with the locked door to the room in the roof. As an aside - what is it with locked doors? I always have to try the handle even though I know it's locked.
The cottage is full of little hiding places and oddities. Rumour has it that the locked top room was used as a smugglers look out. The strange little cupboards would certainly have been useful for storing the hoard. Most of the cottages would have had steps down to the estuary - perfect for spiriting away secrets in the dead of night. You can still see some if you hang over the end and peer along the estuary wall.
There's something hypnotic about having this view at the end of the courtyard. We ate lunch overlooking the estuary each day, watching Mr and Mrs Blackbird fly in and out of their nest in the bush on the left. We would have had dinner out there too if it hadn't been so chilly!
Needless to say, my first night was filled with dreams of smuggling, treachery and a dash of Daphne du Maurier.
Each time we walked along Irsha Street we noticed something new. Whether it was an interesting house name, an odd brass door knocker or an almost hidden passageway to the estuary.
This little house is rather appropriately named The Doll's House and is apparently a tiny tardis, tucked in between two rows of cottages. It's available to rent - hard to believe it sleeps 4!
The tapas
The picnic at Parc Guell
The sites
The sea
The panoramic view
The view from our balcony
We'll be back.
We sauntered around the Marche aux Fleurs, enjoying the shade and later stumbled across a street market with a stall selling the most beautiful lupins. Look at those pastel rainbow colours. Can you imagine having them dotted around your apartment, with the shutters thrown wide open?
We walked for miles and miles, eventually making it to the Eiffel Tower. This fabulous building was en route. Such a tactile facade.
You never know what you're going to spy when you're in Paris. Little mews houses, tiny hidden shops, family life, the morning after the night before.
It seemed to be following us. In the sky, at the Pompidou, on napkins and down side streets.
Colour in Paris stands out all the more when set against the pale backdrop of the traditional buildings. Whether it's the owner of the tea shop who matches his parasols, the oddly military feel to the bicycles for hire on street corners or the beautiful tiles of yesteryear outside what was once an ice cream parlour.
It would be rude not to people watch in Paris. Our leisurely lunch at Les Deux Magots (Thanks Rebecca!) was the perfect place to indulge. We bagged ourselves a table in the sun on the street, a glass of fizz in the hand, donned our very large sunglasses and sat back to watch the people politics.
We saw the sites, avoided the museums (the weather was far too beautiful to be stuck indoors) and got coated in dust as we walked through the Jardin des Tuileries. The beers were a 'petite'...long story...
L'Ardoise Gourmande* is tucked down a little back street, behind a church, about 4 minutes from the Gare du Nord - perfect for running for the train if you decide to linger over coffee. The food was utterly divine. Starter was Tartare de saumon aux lentilles and my sister had the entree du jour - a delicate ravioli with smoked salmon. We both had steak for main. Oh, to have had time for a dessert! The staff were fantastic - they made both starters without citrus so that I could nibble from each plate. I will be definitely be going back and taking Mr M.
