Why are pirates called pirates?

Answer: because they ARRR!

Devon today, with Dave, by train and bus to the fishing town of Brixham, which had recently enjoyed a pirate festival. Hence the skeletons in cages.

Why Brixham? Because the sit down fish and chip shop is amazing and I hadn't visited for years. Because, I now realise, it's more than a little like Oban, the Scottish town I hail from, except maybe with a greater average number of hours of sunlight per annum. I guess I just gravitate to harbour towns.

Our journey (I went with Dave) took more than six and a half hours by train, and then there was the bus to Brixham! I will be more organised next year, if we go again. But Dave got to stroll around in Torquay and eat whelks, which he really, really wanted to do. Having tried one of his, I'll just carry a packet of rubber bands to curb the urge if I'm ever tempted to eat them again. But, it must be said, my prawns were delicious.

And Brixham in the sunshine, filled with holidaymakers and sculpture, was delightful. My grilled plaice was sumptuous, too. I didn't even have room for ice cream afterwards. I'll have to return.

CleanSteve and I last visited Brixham in August 2014. I liked it so much then that I thought I might want to move there. CleanSteve wasn't as keen. But since then, one of my two sisters has relocated to the West highlands of Scotland. One lived there already. The remaining one lives in a harbour town remarkably like Oban, apart from the fact that it's located in New Zealand. I wonder if the sea will claim me in the end.