In which we drag our sorry selves to Devon

Flu sucks. We had it for half term week and it's being a bit stubborn about leaving too. This, which surprised us by being the full fluey works (only a month since our Christmas bad colds), threatened our planned break with lovely friends in Devon - but we went anyway.

On Friday while N and A were hard at work at their respective jobs, we shopped in Taunton for essentials (hankies, menthol, birthday presents, books). Saturday was a little rainy but we all managed an amble along the banks of the Great Western Canal near Tiverton before heading to Honiton for lunch at a delightful cafe called Toast which makes magnificent bacon sandwiches (washed down with Russian caravan tea) and sells cakes which look like exquisite works of art.

On the way back N and I made a brief foray into the Co-Op which was being staffed by zombies straight from the set of Shaun of the Dead. It was a brief but highly entertaining visit which taught us that, in Honiton at least, Madeira cake is regarded as a variety of fruit.

Sweet hearts at Burrow Mump

Sunday was a bright, cold day so we spent it in Somerset scooting between beautiful and delightfully-named places. First stop was Burrow Mump, a National Trust-owned bump in the levels which gives magnificent 360 degree views of the surrounding landscape with Glastonbury Tor in the distance. There we reprised our new sport (invented by N and A) which began as 'star jumps on ancient monuments' and mutated into 'star jumps on wherever it is we happen to be'. I'll spare you the photographs but it's a fun sport and suitable both for young and (slightly) old(er).

From there we headed somewhere else in Somerset (I'm sorry but I was so busy looking at the flat landscapes that I forgot to look at where it was we went - I wasn't driving!). Anyway it was a tea room somewhere in the peaty bit of the Somerset Levels and it serves lovely roast pork and crackling baguettes, which we scoffed for lunch out in the cold but sunny garden while Great Tits shouted 'teacher, teacher, teacher' from the hedge behind us.

Glastonbury tor from Ham Wall.

Next it was on to Ham Wall where H10 was disappointed to discover that there wasn't a wall of ham. What there is though is acres of reed beds, reflective water and lots of birds - including Bitterns. The Bitterns were hiding during our visit but it was a beautifully serene place created from old peat extraction works.

"Why did they put all the peat here Uncle A?" R8 asked innocently. Uncle A has a degree in geology so I suspect R8 now knows all there is to know about peat!

Then we had to drag ourselves to the mayhem of the M5 and back to Wales. As we reached Whitland there was a whimper from the back seat. R8 was looking tearful. It turned out that for the entire journey she'd been looking at the road signs, adding up the mileage and had just calculated we were more than 150 miles from N and A's house. We've been invited back soon - next time we'll try not to take nasty bugs with us.