Cadbury, Copplestone, Coleford

Moorhayes Park at the northern edge of Tiverton is one of the finest new housing developments anywhere. In one small part, they’ve even kept an old oak tree and built a square around it, with black iron railings. It looks like it’s been there for years, just like an old square from an ancient village, yet two years ago the whole area was just open country.

The houses are not the old Bovis boxes, but traditional style houses that are built to look much older than they are. It is similar to the Prince Charles development at Poundbury near Dorchester, only on a miniature scale. I think there is a lot to be said for traditional building styles and they are definitely an improvement on the modern 1970s boxes, which are simply obscene. Brian Sewell would be utterly appalled at the 1970s houses around Britain; I think he would approve of Moorhayes Park in Tiverton. So would Dan Quickshank.

There is a similar development - King's Heath - under the Barrett Homes development banner - near the old Digby hospital on the eastern outskirts of Exeter, all built on open, greenbelt land. The meadow was wonderful to walk over during a lunch hour from Middlemoor but, alas, no more. It has gone. The new houses are sort of neo-Bath/Georgian style crescents, containing five storey houses. They look good. Altogether, there must be one hundred acres of land under development, the norther part more run-of-the-mill, almost box style stuff.

The town of Tiverton itself is actually a lot larger than I ever realised, probably going up above fifteen thousand by now. There is a point – by the basin of the Grand Union Canal, perched above the town on a hillside – where you can see the entire town laid before you. Tiverton is hilly yet still stretches on for three or four miles with the usual industrial estate nearby. As for the canal, this deserves greater exploration, perhaps a walk all the way to Sampford Peverell, about five miles way.

The A3072 passes Bickleigh; then on to Crediton, via Cadbury and its old hilltop castle which I once explored. This is just like Pilsden Pen, only a lot smaller; really, it is just a series of earthworks on top of a hill in the typical pre-history style. There is a fine church here, too, its graveyard set on a hillside in the midst of open country, enjoying some splendid views and some quiet serenity.

There are a whole series of tiny villages scattered around what are known as the Crediton Hundreds, a sort of local government area and tradition going back hundreds of years; there are similar ‘hundreds’ all around England, I understand. Devon County Council don’t officially maintain the tradition, yet they are on all of the old maps.

Newbuildings is a typical such village – or, rather a hamlet with just a few buildings – and I passed here today, my first ever visit. It’s near Sandford and it contains several of the famous Devon longhouses, a sort of ancient dwelling built of cobb walls and thatched roof. These buildings are so solid that they simply stand for hundreds of years. The windows are placed on a sort of ad hoc basis, of different shapes and sizes and apparantly random. There is some sort of saying, which I can't remember precisely, which says that all you need is a good pair of boots (the foundations) and a good hat (the thatched roof). Newbuildings also has a few pre-war council houses, now worth about £250,000 I should imagine.

Driving through the country lanes of Devon is a delight. They are barely wide enough for one car, hemmed in at each side by a seven foot tall hedge, many lanes so under-used that a line of green grass marks the centre. You have to be extra careful with on-coming traffic because any extra speed can easily lead to a shunt; I know because it happened to me in May 2002 at Culvery Bridge, near Venny Tedburn. As you amble along, third gear towards the crest of a hill, when you reach the summit you are suddenly presented with the most spectacular view of the Devon countryside, a view lasting for miles, with a whole patchwork of green fields and hedges before you. And there is always the promise of a hidden country inn at the next village, the older the better. They always serve real ale, too.

This is the very hinterland that I covered at the end of 1985 when I worked as a labourer on a sort of New Deal type programme. We went out by truck and repaired church yards all over mid Devon, particularly Stockleigh Pomeroy, Morchard Road, Lapford and places. It was all run from a shed down by the Devon County Council depot behind Crediton railway station, about aa three minute walk from Mill Street. I became a master of cutting a dead straight line for a path. Two months of this was enough before I took my leave, however.

I was with M and our mission was Coleford, to visit the motor mechanic. However, having by-passed Crediton and landed up in Sandford en route to Copplestone, we were now lost. But… there was an old workman, busily sweeping the entrance to what looked like a farm.

‘Please Sir… do you know the way to Copplestone?’, M asked.

‘Take thar road there…’, he replied, his Devon brogue simply a throwback to the days before the mass media and the removal of the Devon accent. We duly arrived at Copplestone, at the Cross. Then a side road to Coleford, arriving at the motor mechanic just about one mile away.

S, the motor mechanic, has a wonderful workshop, strewn with masses of old cars and spare parts, tools, an old 1932 Ford 8 under renovation and the man himself who is a complete master and expert at motor mechanics. In many ways, it is an idyllic lifestyle - you work on the car, radio playing, no-one to push you around, your own boss, enjoying the sound of the occasional train passing, just a hundred yards away on the old Barnstaple line. When you need refreshment, you visit the New Inn one hundred yards away.

He provided the advice on the brake problem and then a quick stop at the New Inn, Coleford. I went to find the toilet, standing around, not quite knowing where it was.

'Hello... hello... hello.' This was spooky because, when I looked around there was simply no-one there, being about one o'clock in the afternoon.

'Hello... hello... hello.' Christ, what is it?

Well, of course, it was the pub parrot, in its cage, sounding incredibly like a real person. A cheeky person, really, just like the miner bird in Carry on Behind that insults people and tells them to get stuffed.

Torquay

Alphington and the A30 to the A380, Devon Expressway, for a day trip to Torquay; very promising. However, it is too bloody cold today, a harsh chill in the air despite the clear blue sky. It must be as low as about 5 celsius.

Parking near the Princess Theatre, on the seafront, you notice that this building is a bit worn out. It must be at leat forty years old by now. It is the classic 1950s urban design, nice foyer with some outside sheltering, yet all beginning to fade and look a bit too old-fashioned. I can't remember, but it's probably the usual festive stuff inside, Aladdin, or something. I think if I had a family I would be quite into that sort of thing, now.

Quick visit to Burger King for one of their superb Whopper meals; their hamburgers are much better than McDonalds, coming in a superb bun and some real, fresh salad. At £4.19, pricier than McDonalds but probably a lot healthier. This is all thanks to the generosity of M, as usual, as I have no money at all. It is very decent of him. Will I ever deal with my debts, earn some money, and have any liquidity ever again?

Nothing in Adecco, the employment agency in Fleet Street, to produce any enthusiasm. Just Admin Assist jobs on £5.50 an hour. However, I take note of the new Hog's Head pub at the very end, and the bar next to Burger King, hidden down the alleyway, where I remember having a drink in about summer 2002, while I was working at Middlemoor.

In the trinkets shop, just on the corner of Fleet Street, next to the Spar, a woman talks to the shop owner about the weather. Isn't it true that the British do always discuss the weather? She says it's very cold now.

'It is... but we've been very lucky so far this winter. It's been good up till now.'

The Fleet Walk Shopping Centre is really most impressive. It is like a smaller version of the Victoria Place shopping centre in Tunbridge Wells, sort of blended into the street very well; in fact, you don't know it's new at all until you go inside and up the escalators to the shops.

The Living Planets sea life centre has been finished, its huge netting setting a curious new landmark for Torbay. I suppose the penguins are entering their favourite time of year now. Maybe they'll even get some snow this winter.

From down by the marina, you can see three large tower blocks on the hill, going up towards Meadfoot Road. The three blocks of flats are identical, all about twelve stories. Yet, what is interesting, is that some flats - on an apparantly ad hoc basis - have knocked out their outside walls and windows, and brought the new wall a yard or two inside the flat to create some fine balconies. The view from up there must be tremendous, particulary in the summer, perhaps sipping a lager on the balcony, looking down at the hive of activity that is the Quay.

Return to Exeter via Babbacombe and the coastal road through Shaldon, Teignmouth, Dawlish, Starcross and up to Exeter, in time to beat the evening rush hour.

Unfortunately, this did not afford time for a visit to Teignmouth town itself, location for one of the finest Norman Wisdom comedies - a rare, late colour film - called Press for Time (1966). Filmed almost entirely in Teignmouth, Norman Shields goes on a series of bus chases, clumsiness and the rest, all in his new job as a journalist. There are shots of Ivy Lane and down to the River Teign and the Salty, opposite.