The next morning we were ferried by Tom, the hotel’s charming driver, to his favourite surfing spot Bantham Bay. The south coast of Devon is something of a surfing mecca, but while Nick whizzed along like something out of Blue Crush, I wallowed in the shallows. One thumb injury later (apparently a common complaint when you use your board as a shield), I beat a hasty retreat to the beach café for a reviving plate of fish and chips. As we clambered back on to the train that afternoon, still sticky with salt, we felt blissfully rested and a lot heavier. With sand, obviously; nothing to do with all those chips. ES