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I took my daughter to Mortehoe Museum this morning, keen to find out the history of Mortehoe, the small village we’re staying in. But it was Saturday, so obviously Mortehoe museum was closed. Which I respect. They don’t want to go too commercial and be open at the time when most people could actually go. Luckily there was a playground outside which was probably almost as interesting to my daughter as some historic artefacts from a Devon town. It started raining though, so we went to find something else to do, which was hard as Mortehoe is mainly shut before 11am. The church was open though, so we looked round that. Phoebe walked around the small medieval building constantly saying “shush”. I don’t know if I had told her she had to be quiet first, but she was very keen to make sure I didn’t make too much noise, even though we were the only people in there.
We took it easy for most of the day, but in the afternoon headed down to Ilfracombe to visit the aquarium. Nearby was a striking and huge statue standing on the harbour of a naked pregnant woman holding a sword. It was by Damien Hirst and was a surprising, but not unwelcome addition to this quaint seaside town.
The aquarium was very small and all the fish were local species. Phoebe was given a step to look into the various tanks, which she was very happy about and we watched the fish being fed and marvelled at the wonders of Devon based water creatures. Phoebe enjoyed telling us which of the fish were mummies and daddies and which were were the babies, though she worked largely on size, rather than on using any expertise in sexing marine animals.
It was the perfect low energy afternoon for two frazzled parents and though it only passed about 40 minutes, at least it was open on a Saturday. We went for a coffee and an ice cream. An old house opposite the cafe had toy boats in the window and loads of old time toys inside. We went to have a look. But the door was shut and a sign said “Private House”. Catie noticed a man amongst all the toys eating his dinner. One must presume he wanted or at least expected people to look into his lounge, given the way he had set it up like a museum/shop, but it still felt weird to suddenly find ourselves staring into someone’s house.
