Yeah, so I may have mentioned a beautiful relationship with Exmouth. Well, I suppose you could say that's what I have.

It's much like one of those long term relationships where you sit in silence over your lamb chops and watery gravy, desperately longing for the tiniest hint of a conversation, but knowing that when it comes it will be so dull and ridiculous you won't even bother replying. One of those relationships where maybe you've been together for so long that you become so stupidly used to the other being there that you can pretty much ignore they exist at all. Where you maybe hate each other bitterly but you've been married for so damn long that you might as well just stick it out until one of you dies, just to say you've seen it through.

Yeah, I think that pretty much sums up how I feel about Exmouth.

The surrounding area is beautiful. Stunning white sand beaches with aquamarine ocean lay just a half hours drive away. Yes, that's right. Drive. What's that Laura? You don't have a car? How sad for you. Luckily I managed to hop a lift with a lovely couple from Dartford (near the old home ground) to see the stunning Turqoise Bay and Oyster Stacks for some snorkeling. And getting burned to a crisp, naturally. However, since then, I've been at a little bit of a loss.

And then there's the hostel. Oh the hostel. Pool, internet cafe, buzzing pub. Or rather, there was a pool but it's underconstruction and the internet has been out of order for a week. And the pub would okay if there were more than 6 people staying in the hostel. But there isn't. It's just us. And by us I mean two Germans who have been waiting for a bus trip to collect them. However that's broken down somewhere South and has had to leave them here until at least Saturday when it's ready to go again. Another German gent who's car has broken down, leaving him stuck here until his tax rebate comes through and he can afford to get it fixed, and an American called Chris who actually seems quite jolly to be here. Oh, and there's another fellow in our room who I simply haven't met yet. As you can see, Exmouth seems to do a good job of trapping in hapless tourists who stumble unwittingly into it's sticky grasp.

So there's no local beach, one small swimming pool and no nice park area. And a heatwave that prevents any desire to step outside between the hours of 10.30 am and 8pm.

So what do you do when you're stuck in Exmouth for nearly a week with nothing but time on your side? Here's my personal guide, for any of you poor fools that happen to fall into the same trap as us:

Things to do in Exmouth when you maybe wish you were somewhere more interesting

1. The local supermarket:

Airconditioned AND helps to you to waste at least 20 minutes just reading the instructions and nutritional values on the back of each packet of noodles before finally going for the same brand you've always chosen.

2. The local internet cafe

Slash surf shop slash dive shop slash airconditioned haven where I can spend at least three hours of my day researching fancy dress costumes (yes, you can go to that all important party dressed as a taco) and wandering through the depths of Wikipedia until I feel I know not only the name, breed and colour of Hitler's favourite dog, but also their toilet habits, eating disorders and sexual preferences (did you know that Hitler's dog was gay? Riveting).

3. The local hospital

Me: "Hi, my eyes are sore and a bit blurry, would you mind taking a peek so I can see if I have an infection?"

Nurse: "No dramas, take off your glasses. Now stand behind this line and read that sign over there"

Me: "I can't, I haven't got my glasses on"

Diagnosis - conjunctivitis. Awesome.

4. Cockroach spotting:

Possibly my favourite passtime, undertaken less out of choice and more out of unspeakable fear. They're massive. Or small, they'll work either look. And they're everywhere. Not during the day, oh no, these are night dwellers. They wait for the cover of darkness to lift their sheathed wings (oh yeah, these mothers can fly) and hurtle themselves at your face when you're in the middle of a pub or some other similar venue where the squealing and panicking generally don't go down so well. Chris nearly drank one that crawled into his beer. Even though we informed him it would be good protein he still spat it out. This whole story scares me.

5. Reading

And reading and reading and reading and reading and how many minutes has that passed, just two, and reading and reading and reading.

Well, that's my guide pretty much done. Feel free to add any thoughts or suggestions because I'm out. I have just today purchased myself a pack of cards (you play games with it... a bit like an XBox 360 but a bit more fiddly), and a notepad (I feel my first novel coming on) so who knows, I might find myself bowled over with my ability to entertain myself.

Bus comes on Thursday night. I might just be a little bit sad to leave the old place behind...