I've done enough of these trips to give a fair impression that when it comes to public transport, I know what I’m doing. It’s an illusion. In Taunton I jumped aboard a service bus and asked for a return to Watchet. 'To where?' said the driver with more than a hint of fake bemusement, I thought. 'Watchet', I repeated firmly. Trying not to make it sound like a threat, I quickly added 'on the road to Minehead?' 'I know where it is, matey. You need a 28. This is a 2A.’ Oh. Easy mistake to make when you're squinting at the front of an on-coming vehicle and simply following the crowd at the bus stop. Baaaa. 'There's one now.' He gestured at the double-decker overtaking us. I sheepishly stepped down and out to wait another hour. Once settled on the correct service, the journey up to Watchet was a swinging, pitching ride around the foothills of the Quantocks. I admired stout, often steep slopes tufted with moorland bracken and receding heat
Departing Exeter St David’s railway station I continue to bump in to the legacy of that man Paul Theroux on these trips. Back in 1982 on his ‘The Kingdom by the Sea’ round-Britain yomp, our mentor took the Exeter To Barnstaple branch line, where conversations with passengers were about the Falklands War. The conflict is still the topic of discussion today as we mark forty years since HMS Invincible sailed down The Solent accompanied by a flotilla of support vessels and a ticket to save Thatcher’s premiership. Without over-stretching the history-repeating-itself observation, the Russian-Ukrainian war is currently doing the same for Boris Johnson. Theroux seemed to enjoy his journey between Exeter and Barnstaple, but was far from optimistic about the line’s chances of survival. I’m chuffed to say (as if in some way I’m responsible) that it is still open and busy with regular services, despite his doom-laden predictions. The railway infrastructure has changed so much since the last qua