Roots and new Shoots

Dawlish holds quite a few memories for me but a wind of change blows through the palm trees. Here is the terrace overlooking the sea and facing towards the east. We soon moved away to a sheltered town house which faced south and less exposed to the elements. 

The beach sand has been lost over the intervening years

 The gaping hole in the sea wall penetrated to the very foundations of the terrace

A mariner seems to have washed up here

The Mayor and Town council now swallowed up into Teignbridge District Council.  Dawlish might as well have been invaded by a gang of pillaging  thieves.  Much like the UK is being swallowed by the EU

My workplace for a long time

My earliest recollections of the place include that Victorian Terrace that was threatened by the storm, recently breached beside the railway line. My parents moved there with just me and the cat, but the cat ran away and I  was almost carried away following a tonsillectomy. I lost blood but by the good care of my mother and Dr Lees I was whisked off to hospital in the back of his car at midnight to Exeter.

Where the wind of change blows

Before the visitors arrive

And here is the parade of shops where I spent many years of tedium. A self imposed sentence of twenty five years from which escape could not come soon enough.

Sitting on a clutch of seven eggs she gently turns them over at intervals