Tramps, transvestites, tourists (not robe confused with terrorists), tea shops (well coffee shops, but that doesn’t start with a ‘T’), the sun is out and the the busses are parked. The streets are filling up and the shops are showing their wears! Totnes is coming alive (I know it wasn’t dead) from the winter lull! The lean period between pagan festivals and dole day! The place is , if not starting to buzz, but hum (and that’s not just the stale pong of the great unwashed). You can see the appeal of this place, the lure of the hippy and the angst of the aged.
Old/ young/ worker/ shirker/ hippy/ happy/ rich and poor. If you fit any of these categories, then please feel free to wonder this enclave of Narnia. Gluten free and diary free, nut allergy and vegan are all catered for, in fact just about the hardest thing to be is a fat fucker who will eat anything (it’s all friggin healthy) you see the regular Melli of locals going about their business (!?) you can notice the tourists as they look in amazement at the strangely garbed chap in his Elizabethan garb (it ain’t fancy dress) the happy smiles of the foreigners (not always foreign from these shores) the chirpiness of the traders as the waft of currency fills the air. Through all this cuts Bobs growl.
My coffee has gone, the skies are greying, my three to four paragraphs of my day so far have been written and my eyes are playing tricks on me as I’m sure the shop worker beside me is trying to garrotte me with a liquorish lace (time to go methinks) stay safe, stay lucky, stay calm, stay alive.