And where on earth do they live, that coming to a monstrous sprawl composed entirely of guesthouses dumped on the edge of what 200 years ago was probably a fairly pretty coastline, but isn't any longer, seems like a holiday?
Torquay would also appear to be out of radio contact with the rest of the country. I ran my radio search right across the dial when setting off to come home, and not a single radio station did I find. I only rejoined the world when I crossed the border into Paignton.
And (driven by desperation) I have discovered that Torquay has a large, successful Macdonalds, full of people, with a drivethrough as well(successful no doubt because people have a choice between eating there and surviving entirely on breakfast) - that doesn't take any form of plastic.
Now I don't normally eat at MacDonaldses, but nowadays even small independent stores take cards. Market traders often take cards, for heaven's sake!
In short, my new slogan for Torquay is "Torquay: go there only if you absolutely have to". English Riviera my arse.