Torquay : what a dismal place.

[bunn]

I was in Torquay yesterday. What a dump! Miles and miles and miles of endless guesthouses, with not a chipshop, cafe or restaurant. Where do all these holidaymakers eat? Do they exist entirely on one enormous breakfast that sustains them all day long?

And where on earth do they live, that coming to a monstrous sprawl composed entirely of guesthouses dumped on the edge of what 200 years ago was probably a fairly pretty coastline, but isn't any longer, seems like a holiday?

Torquay would also appear to be out of radio contact with the rest of the country. I ran my radio search right across the dial when setting off to come home, and not a single radio station did I find. I only rejoined the world when I crossed the border into Paignton.

And (driven by desperation) I have discovered that Torquay has a large, successful Macdonalds, full of people, with a drivethrough as well(successful no doubt because people have a choice between eating there and surviving entirely on breakfast) - that doesn't take any form of plastic.

Now I don't normally eat at MacDonaldses, but nowadays even small independent stores take cards. Market traders often take cards, for heaven's sake!

In short, my new slogan for Torquay is "Torquay: go there only if you absolutely have to". English Riviera my arse.

Comments

[wellinghall.livejournal.com]

We were in a shop yesterday that didn't take cheques. And a couple of weeks ago, the kiosk I used at the Tower of London didn't take cash.

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

The word Torquay makes me think of torture and Torquemada and unpleasant things like that, so maybe it's a sort of penal colony left over from the Spanish Inquisition.