Of course, this is just the rambling of someone who left The Muff in 1972. Quite a lot has happened since.
I live in the US now, but I can still smell the pasties in Cornwall Street and the coffee as you passed Cowardine's. And The Barbican smelt of fish. Farley's smelt too. And Smith's Crisps in Ernesettle.
I used to walk home to Plymstock from the Van Dike, and sometimes was in time to pop in the chippie on Exeter Street. They used to break up submarines under Laira Bridge. Giant lugworms in Billacombe Creek.
Took the 5, 6 or 7 bus from the Yard after work, sometimes, on a Tuesday, stopping off in town to get to Pete Russell's for the new releases.
Also miss the (occasional) pint in The Dolphin Hotel, The Minerva, even The Millbridge (vodka and lime). The Magnet. The cafeteria on The Hoe. The Barbican Fair.
Lawson's model railways, Bogie Knights, Popham's, Coster's, Underhill's, and Gould's in Ebrington Street. Maison Terry's.
Steam engines at North Road, Scarabs towing deliveries out of Friary and vans driven by The Blind Man.
Just my reverie ...