Grannie's Pool, St Francis Bay

Bags packed, passports ready, boarding cards downloaded, we were going home. We felt we deserved a short walk and a coffee with the bonus of a last look at the Indian Ocean before the dubious delights of Port Elizabeth. The cafe at Grannie's Pool served admirably and we happily sipped Americanos and Cappucchinos in the company of many of St Francis Bay's privileged and often South African Rugby Shirted residents as they brunched whilst watching their children partying and surfing in the warmish waters.
In PE, as we learned to call it, the Dorling Kindersley guide book painted an intriguing hand painted picture of majestic colonial buildings and monuments dotted through wide streets and flowing parks of the centre, but the reality was a small, menacing,  litter strewn maze of choked streets and rundown communities. We struggled to find anywhere to park and were directed by M's interpretation of the same guide book to one of the few recommended restaurants in the town, which happened to be on Marine Drive by the waterside. This is where we found the hordes of tourists that we had expected to find in the centre, and it wasn't difficult to buy those last essential bits of holiday shopping (animal encrusted hoodies and tops for four grandchildren) and to find a suitable eatery for our last alfresco lunch in the South African sun and wind. I chose mixed sea food with Hake, Calamari, Prawns and Mussels on linguine while M. opted for the Thai Beef salad. It was washed down with a Franschoek Sauvignon Blanc to round off a wonderful holiday. Let's hope that our arrangements with British Airways don't tarnish these memories.