Fungus at Fingle Bridge

This being the third and probably last notice of our recent visit to Moretonhampstead, of references 1 and 2.

A very out of the way place. Not only was the so-called A road leading there very narrow, it also sported a mobile bank in the main car park. Which reminded me, inter alia, of how much large pictures of this sort on the sides of motor vehicles irritate me: both intrusive and distracting. Furthermore, in this case, they had even gone to the bother of painting the inside of the door so that the picture was only slightly disturbed by opening it.

The garden room of the café already noticed at reference 2. It seemed a bit unsporting to score the place as a fake twice, this time on account of the fake grass. We were just adjusting the umbrellas to take our seats as the rain came on when we were invited inside.

There were a number of graves in the churchyard like that snapped above. Clearly a passing fad with one of the local monumental mason. Perhaps one got a discount for using up his broken stone.

The Barney-Spunner inspired search for memorials to casualties of Waterloo (of reference 4) came close with a couple of memorials to French prisoners of war from a few years previously. This one to an officer of the Corps Imperial d'Artillerie de Marine, which I now know to be an artillery outfit attached to the French Army rather than the French Navy, although it did have naval origins back in the 17th century. Perhaps of the 14th battalion of the 4th regiment?

Below the memorial above. Perhaps the church porch was a refuge in the evening for smokers, and some wag thought a tin would help with the consequent mess. Not very respectful - but then plenty of memorials in Westminster Abbey are treated with even less respect.

Two curiosities on the outskirts of town. The second being a purveyor of eco-felt coffins. See reference 5.

I close with two snaps of the fungus in the car park at Fingle Bridge. The one over the Teign which leads to the sea at Teignmouth, where BH went to secondary school. At a time when railway station waiting rooms still supported coal and coke fires and stoves. For the avoidance of doubt, the yellow stuff bottom right on the first snap is fungus, not out of season primroses, although we did see some of those in the course of our week too.

Followed by lunch at the public house by the bridge. A public house which started life as tearooms during the hey-day of the place as a destination for charabanc excursions.

PS: the Guild Living people have reminded me of their existence again. This time by means of an invitation to participate in a small Zoom forum on questions of imagery and language. Apparently to inform the preparation of their new brochure. Forum with well-oiled lunch thrown in at or near Great Guildford Street one thing, but Zoom quite another... See reference 3.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/10/the-bridge-which-was-not-bridge.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/10/fake-113.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/08/more-guild-living.html.

Reference 4: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/12/translations.html.

Reference 5: https://bellacouche.com/.