Following the Redcar Incident I thought it might be wise to have an insurance policy – you know, something I could point to and say “Hey, it’s not just you I’m picking on. I’m equally mean about my own hometown” – so here it is: Teignmouth. The place I did most of my growing up in.
So what’s to say about it? Well, it’s small. It’s safe. It’s really, really pretty and the summer can be a bit of a gas but ultimately it’s very, very dull. Now, I’m not talking ‘not much to do on an evening’ dull – I’m on about ‘this town basically shuts down for 8 months of the year’ dull, not to mention the fact that the nearest escape (Exeter) barely qualifies as a city, at least 99% of the population is nearing 100 years old and it can find itself cut off from the rest of the country for months at a time. As a result, opportunities for entertainment were limited and revolved mainly around activities as depicted in this scene. Hey, at least it kept the sandblasting guy in a job all year round, right?
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