We left Dawlish under clouds and a mist at sea but when my brother Bill and I arrived at Cockington (Torquay) the sun came out. We had a wonderful hour (dictated somewhat by the ticket we acquired in the car park) wandering through the village and walking by the lakes. We were pricked by the memory of last time we came to Cockington together – when our dad was ill near the end of his life – but we lingered not and walked on through gardens with flowers and live music. We drove home in the sunshine, with the top down on my sporty little Peugeot, and we smiled all the way; we were so glad that we went to Cockington for an hour. My neighbour Martin said it had been miserable all day in Dawlish.