Day 5 – Wednesday, 11th May
2016 (‘Tales to Tell’)
This morning I treated myself to a lie in (this was a holiday, after
all). I rose at nine and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of boiled eggs whilst
enjoying an episode of All Creatures
Great and Small. As I was in no rush to leave this morning, I took things
slowly. Eventually Mum and I got ready to start out on our walk, but not before
she squeezed in some violin rehearsing, and I – feeling a little guilty about
being so lazy so far on this holiday – recapped my revision cards and tried
learning a few new ones. As yesterday, I figured I could run through them on
the walk.
We would be attending ‘Story
Time’ with Dr Laura Varnam at 4pm, so when we left for the Hall Walk just after
midday we had it in mind to do it ‘in reverse’, starting in Fowey and finishing
in Polruan, so we could drop Moses off back at the cottage before setting off
to the reading. However, on arrival in the quay to catch the ferry to Fowey, we
were faced with a boat that was already full to capacity. As the vessel motored
away, leaving us standing on the steps, Mum decided we should instead start the
walk at our usual end. To wait for the next ferry would only eat up valuable
minutes.
The first part of the walk
passed reasonably uneventfully, with Moses running along ahead and making a
nuisance of himself with all the other dogs he encountered. He wanted to play!
Time was progressing faster than
we would have liked, so we considered turning around at the bridge, our
half-way point, once we’d enjoyed our pasties. This would save us time and
money, and allow us to more easily drop Moses off before going to our story
time. As we ate our lunch we admired the variety of wildfowl on the river –
four ducks on the river, rush hour in this part of the world. There was also a
creature we couldn’t quite identify, perched on a wall. We took it to be an
owlet (it certainly wasn’t a cat, on account that it flew away).
We turned round and headed back
along the route we’d come, the first time I recall ever turning around on the
walk, rather than travelling from A to B. I compared it to a sandwich made by
folding over a single slice of bread; not my most inspired analogy, granted.
Dad was waiting for us at the
quay on Polruan-side, so after freshening up at the cottage we went out with
Moses to meet him. However, in keeping with previous experience, the ferry was
yet again full to capacity. With a sigh, we resigned ourselves to a fifteen
minute wait; this time we had no choice.
We eventually made it to the
town hall for the readings, with about ten minutes to spare. Helena and James
were also there, so we joined them, making the most of our new acquaintances. A
lady called Pam, in the row in front, engaged me in conversation about our
choir last night (she’d been singing too). It’s such a joy to meet so many new people
in such a short time! Before long Dr Laura Varnam started to read to us. I
immediately recognised the book at the one Dad had bought me earlier in the
week, so at least I could read the stories again – no need to record the event
then! She selected three very different tales. To start, ‘East Wind’ was a
dark, mysterious tale based on a wild Cornish island. Then ‘Frustration’
demonstrated Daphne du Maurier’s mastery of comedy. Finally ‘The Happy Valley’
showed us a sinister, supernatural, eerie tale, my favourite kind of story for
the suspense that it creates. Alas, concentration at this point was too much
for some of us. We departed with a good sense of enjoyment and satisfaction –
listening to someone read us stories in person is a rare experience. My
appreciation of du Maurier’s writing skills had grown and whetted my appetite
for buying two more of her books – but which ones?
The yacht club served as a
bookshop and restaurant, so it seemed a logical place to go next. As I browsed
the titles I flitted between more short stories or full novels. Eventually I
settled for Julius and The Parasites, which had actually been
my initial choices. Mum and I enjoyed drinks on the terrace, and at six dined
overlooking the river, facing the quay at Polruan. Over burger and fish we
discussed my approach to studying and I reflected on my academic achievements
to date. Studying never gets easier, but admittedly it is good to be challenged
from time to time.
On the return ferry we got
talking to a couple, Tommy and Susanne, with their collie Maisie, from
Manchester. They were on a campsite near our cottage, so they accompanied us
back up the hill.
The evening consisted of writing
postcards, an episode of Hustle and
penning these thoughts. Another day was drawing to a close.
Day 6 – Thursday, 12th May
2016 (‘A Bittersweet Evening’)
Due to the late hour at the time
of writing, I will attempt to condense my reflections for today.
The day started in a leisurely
manner, and late in the morning Mum and I set off for our Hall Walk. I was
sensing a more withdrawn and reluctant attitude from Moses this morning (he
wasn’t eating, and took to ‘sulking’ under the garden table), so I wasn’t sure
if he would want to join us. However, inevitably, we were unable to leave him
behind – he made sure of that!
After stopping by the post
office to send off my postcards, we walked through Fowey to start the Hall
Walk. I was tired of yet more pasties, so Mum suggested the Old Ferry Inn in
Bodinnick for a light lunch before we set off. It had also started to rain, so
I wasn’t too keen on sitting outside with a pasty this time. The inn was as
welcoming as ever. The famous French onion soup (from times gone by) was not on
the menu, so Mum had the carrot soup while I savoured a cheese and ham
omelette. Moses was a little impatient at this point, begging for scraps, but
soon enough we were back on the move again and he was beginning to enjoy himself.
The Hall Walk passed reasonably
uneventfully, save for an interesting interlude at the bridge, halfway round.
Moses was rather fascinated with the stream, or something in it, so spent the
next ten minutes or so intently pawing the water, sending pebbles and stones
flying out behind him. I don’t think he ever achieved his goal, whatever it
was, but it was amusing to watch, seeing him so focused. As we continued on our
way we could hear faint music coming from across the water – the sound of
bagpipes. Perhaps there was some event going on in the quay over in Fowey. We
couldn’t know for sure.
We would be disappearing back
out to Fowey again later on for a comedy evening. Our new acquaintance Jill had
kindly offered us the tickets earlier in the week. As such, we passed a restful
afternoon at the cottage, lazing around with books and TV.
At seven, Mum and I headed out
to the comedy evening. Happily, Jill and her friends Eileen and Anne joined us
on the ferry and we walked into the venue together – “the scene of your triumph”,
as one festival helper, Melissa, described the church, which was being used due
to an increase in popularity for this event. We took our seats at the front of
the church, in the area reserved for friends and patrons. The comedian, Mitch
Benn, was known for his appearances on The
Now Show on Radio 4. I was expecting a pleasant evening of musical comedy.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The repertoire seemed to centre
on the theme of scepticism and thus a lack of belief in a god figure,
ironically at odds with the choice of venue. Soon enough the topics for ‘entertainment’
included religion, specifically taking a swipe at Christianity and making
devout believers in God to be ‘loonies’ (that’s me, then); the Paris bombings;
the mentally disabled. There was also a song about bottoms, although rather
more graphic in language and tone. This entire act seemed to offend or alienate
his audience, most of whom were of the older generation, including numerous
churchgoers and a vicar as I later discovered. I was surprised that he was
getting applause at all, and I could sense Mum was not enjoying it. With every
passing minute the atmosphere became more stifling and I needed an opportunity
to leave. The routine, and the persona he portrayed, was in very bad taste, and
at the interval many of us were filing out, disgusted and disappointed. I felt
sorry for the organisers. No doubt there will be angry correspondence in the
days to come.
United in our displeasure and
concerned that this event would ruin an otherwise enjoyable day and week, Jill
suggested we go back to the Lugger in Polruan, to enjoy a drink and a chat. We
picked up another lady, Barbara, on the way, and went inside and found a quiet
table and ordered some wine. After the predictable voicing of complaints and
post first-half discussion about the disappointing event, we ended up swapping
stories. Mum was chatting to Eileen and Anne, sharing the story of my arrival
in England, and adoption. I contributed in parts.
Some good had come out of the
dismal evening, as we were brought together to enjoy each others’ company. God
works in mysterious ways. Certainly a bittersweet moment.
As Mum and I walked back to the
cottage it became ever more apparent that our holiday was coming to a close.
However, we’d made new friends (a worthy promotion from ‘acquaintances’, I
think) and had transformed the evening into something cheerful and special.
I can’t know the full significance or
outcomes of this evening’s occurrences, but I know God is in control – and always
will be.
Day 7 – Friday, 13th May 2016
(‘Fields of Dreams’)
Drawing inspiration from our
companions from last night, Mum and I decided to walk some of the ‘Saints Way’,
starting at Readymoney Cove and skirting the coast. Before that however, we
returned to the yacht club for a light lunch. We had a pleasant hour, enjoying
our refreshment, though the accompanying hot chocolate was too hot at first;
sometimes you just can’t win!
We arrived at the cove to begin
our walk. After ice creams and enjoying the vista, secluded though it was, we
started up the coastal path. As we looked out at the sea I could tell this
would be very different from the Hall Walk. I welcomed the change, although I
longed for the comfort of familiarity. The weather, glorious sunshine, was
perfect as we sat at St Catherine’s Point and read our books. Moses was running
back and forth, providing his own entertainment and clearly loving the change
of surroundings. Binoculars in hand, I was able to look across the water to our
cottage, although it was difficult to tell whether anyone was at home.
After about half an hour we
moved on, admiring the sea and watching the waves crashing on the rocks. We
crossed a couple of fields, beautifully blanketed with buttercups and daisies,
before we came to a cove and carefully edged down towards the water. Direct
interaction with the sea was a new experience for Moses, and he tentatively
approached the water, only to run away scared when the ride brought it back
towards him. As he grew accustomed to the lapping of the water, he bravely
ventured a paw into the water, barking as the little waves splashed him. This
proved very amusing to watch, although it served to build Moses’ confidence in
approaching the sea. It might still be a while before he’s swimming, however. Not
a sea dog yet!
Polridmouth (pronounced ‘Prid-mouth’)
Cove was still a long way off, so unfortunately I wasn’t able to see the
setting of Rebecca as I’d hoped.
Something for another day – alas, another year – but Mum was determined,
weather permitting, to try this walk again. Something I’m all for, next time,
when we plan the walk more thoroughly. However, the setting and the calm of
this stroll proved hard to beat, and it made for a lazy few hours. Why, I
wondered resignedly, did I have to leave this place tomorrow?
Dinner arrangements back in
Polruan brought us back to reality, and we retraced our steps. The wanderers
were returning.
At the quay the ferry arrived
and Jill disembarked with the others. Memories from last night came back, as
Eileen remarked about how rowdy they’d been upon returning home! As they
disappeared off into Fowey, we left for the final time. To say ‘goodbye’ to
Fowey right now seemed too final, so I climbed on board, leaving the word
unspoken, hanging in the air. As the ferry bore us back to Polruan and a family
dinner at the Lugger, I looked back to Fowey with nostalgia at the events of
the last few days, and a futile wish of a longer holiday.
Dinner was a pleasant affair,
and a fitting end to our holiday – where Dad and I started our celebrations on
Saturday evening.
The evening continued in a
leisurely fashion. One more night before we go our separate ways. But it’s been
a good break, and not quite over yet.
Day 8 – Saturday, 14th May
2016 (‘A Reluctant Departure’)
This
morning I woke feeling wistful, yet ready to face this final morning in
Cornwall. Moses greeted me cheerfully, but rather more subdued than usual. He
could sense something was different. I had a quiet breakfast whilst washing up
dishes in the kitchen, and made sure all my belongings were packed. A pizza lay
cooling on the kitchen counter, ready for my lunch en route to Plymouth
station. From the kitchen window I could see the walk and the cove from
yesterday. Suddenly the landscape took on a whole new dimension.
First to leave were Dad and
Moses. I would be travelling later with Mum, as she was going on to South Devon
for work.
After Dad left I cast a last eye
over the cottage. Strange how everything in the place brought back memories
associated with the events of the past week. I didn’t want to leave.
After locking up, Mum and I made
our way down to the quay to return the keys. The weather was cooler and a faint
mist hung in the air, giving the morning a slightly more sombre feel – as if
even the day itself was sad to see us go. I missed Moses, running on ahead,
pained that it would be a while before we played together again. This aside,
the walk down and back was refreshing, and I knew now that we had to move on.
My train would be leaving at
2pm, so Mum and I hit the road just after ten. We admired more of the coast en
route and stopped off to enjoy the view – and cold pizza. Ah, the scenery of
Cornwall!
Next stop was the Torpoint
ferry, and then on to Plymouth. After saying goodbye at the station to Mum, we
went our separate ways. Our paths divided and soon I was speeding towards
London. The holiday was over, but my writings and photos would keep the
memories alive. Next year’s festival looks to be a possibility, and another
week in Polruan would be most welcome. I’ve got a lot of things I’d like to do
next time. One week hasn’t been enough.
So the long day closes.
Lord, keep us safe till we meet again, and
thank you for a memorable and restful holiday.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.