As oop north as it goes

We are returned from a weekend break in North Devon. 

We did a bit of this

 

and a bit of that

and a bit of the other.

Arlington Court*

We were doing pretty much the self-same things this time last year too.  Nothing like a bit of routine.

Whilst partaking in a bit of this in Ilfracombe,  I spotted a Colossus in the harbour:

Astonished, I yelled over to Mark 'where did that come from - it wasn't here last year was it??!'  He confirmed I was not mental and had missed it last year whilst strolling harbour side.  It looked huge from high on the 7th tee, so goodness knows how big it was up close and personal. 

So we went down to take a look.  It was quite amazing to behold and, as predicted, incredibly large.  (taller than the Angel Of The North from base to sword tip, apparently).  And weird.  There was no information available on what it was all about and so we had to content ourselves with waiting til we got home to do a spot of Internet research.

It is called 'Verity', and is by Damien Hirst, quelle surprise.  Seemingly he owns a restaurant locally and the statue is on loan for 20 years to the people of Ilfracombe.  50% of whom think it grotesque and an eyesore in this Victorian seaside town.  Interesting, velly intelesting.  Personally I think it is quite magnificent and certainly a talking point for the town which is, quite frankly, a bit run down and dead-end.  I think it is supposed to have the effect of increasing tourism, but the people of Ilfracombe seem pretty ungrateful and short sighted about it.  If the calibre of its people at the top end of town is anything to go by, the influx of normal people to the town should be welcomed as a blessing and a Godsend.  ('... so I got 120 hours f***ing community service' was the phrase I overheard a callow youth bellowing to his cretinous sidekicks outside a local pub).

I read some of the comments posted on the Internet about Verity at the time of her arrival, and some dipstick had expressed an opinion that the statue would 'encourage teenage pregnancy'.   Seriously??  If anything, a good butcher's at an exposed bronzed foetus would make any normal young girl think twice would it not??  However, we are talking about a special kind of mentality here....

 

On an aside,  yesterday was our Fourteenth wedding anniversary.  We don't exchange gifts for this, but he bought me these:

Thereby putting me in the position of being a bit of a taker, so I offered a full body massage (all above board, you mucky pups) which roughly translates to a wipe down with an oily rag in front of the telly at 10.30pm.  I am an aromatherapy fan and make up oils on a regular basis, but I currently have no carrier oil (veg/almond oil) in the house.  Having offered said massage, I had to come good, so resorted to making up an oil with bergamot and olive oil.  This turned out to be a bit of a mistake, as olive oil is too viscous (think that's the right word) and too strong in smell.  It was like sleeping next to a fried cup of earl grey tea and gave me weird dreams.

Laters.

* Arlington Court did not have a mug in the shop.  My NT mug collection is scuppered already.  I gave the shop assistant a look on the way out.  That'll learn her.