Chapter Seventy Eight - Cornwall 2019 (Part 1)

Day 1 – Saturday, 11^th May 2019

            My first proper day of holiday! After adding the last few items to my bags I set off slightly after seven, on my way to Paddington – arriving about an hour and a half early for my train. A breakfast muffin and cup of tea in hand (not at the same time), I sat back and passed the time observing various people going to and fro across the platform – some casually, some rushing late, some waving frantically trying to attract the attention of their absent-minded companion (etc). I particularly observed a group of supposed ramblers, all with matching purple rucksacks and wearing walking boots, greeting each other in the continental way (an ‘air kiss’ on both sides, rather time consuming). Of particular comedic note was the lady who, on seeing her flask of tea pouring over the concourse, signalled to her companion who dutifully bent down to help – carrying an open bottle of water which also proceeded to empty its contents, adding to the puddle. Many tissues were sacrificed in the righting of this predicament.

            The train departed at ten, arriving in Plymouth just after midday, at one thirty, accounting for a slight delay due to a trespasser – how inconsiderate!

            The journey itself was reasonably uneventful, engrossed in my book on Churchill as I was for most of it – either that or napping (now apparently fair game for thirty year olds).

            Dad met me at Plymouth, and after the usual customary fuss from Moses we made our way to Polruan, both of us in need of the rest that the week ahead promised. For a change, Mum was already there to greet us when we arrived!

            A lazy afternoon ensued, sitting outside in the glorious sunshine, reading to Mum from Daphne du Maurier’s Come Wind, Come Weather. Then, sketchbook on the table in front of me, I thought I’d try drawing the seascape, with Gribbin Head in the distance. Experimenting with light and dark (HB, 2B and 6B) was satisfying, and I was reasonably satisfied with my progress, as the image on the paper was somewhat recognisable as the view before me – albeit the land jutting out looked more like dolphins. All in my lines, I guess. I may amend it later, but more than likely I shall embark on a new subject and try and improve.

            At the time of writing thus far, unusually, it is not at the end of the day – I wanted to reduce the pressure as we’d be watching a movie and Casualty (always a joy with a  fellow fan, in Mum), otherwise leading to a late night.

            Skip forward three and a half hours. The movie was Sing Street – my fourth time of watching, with a greater appreciation each time, now picking up some of the character nuances. I find myself captivated by the boy meets girl storyline, and feel inspired by the end to ‘go now’ and do something bold – but what?

            Next, Casualty, and some deep themes. (Alas, I could sense the wave of tiredness coming over me, signalling the end of my day.)

            Tomorrow looks to be another restful day. Church at eleven with Dad, and a light lunch. The one o’clock free recital seems unlikely. We’ll see what else there is – nice not having an agenda, though.


Day 2 – Sunday, 12^th May 2019

            Here I am, sitting outside at the table, book in hand (sort of), and with a cool glass of white wine. The sea stretches before me, empty, but by no means inanimate, the sun glowing down from my right.

            Now, in a break from my reading, I’m reflecting on the day’s events thus far, starting with a morning visit, for Dad and myself, to Fowey parish church for the service. Familiar faces abounded – Philip, the pastor; Al; Andy on the piano. The sermon was on the Beatitudes in Matthew 5 (particularly Jesus’s claim to be the fulfilment of the law and prophets). Philip helped to explain the statement by likening it to the final chapter of an Agatha Christie – the significance of all the previous clues and actions are finally explained by the detective (or seen in the character of Jesus). Or similarly the railway track at Par finds its purpose in London Paddington (every bit of track counts). I fear I’m not explaining this too well.
            On reflection, this talk tied in well with my morning reading of Romans 1, as I recognised that obedience in following Jesus’s commands comes out of faith in trusting His work on the cross.

            But back to the church, and I was sitting next to a couple from Oxford (Sue and Roland) who were equally keen on the literature festival events. We compared our plans, and I said I may see them again.

            Following church, Mum and Moses arrived, and we enjoyed a light lunch at the Yacht Club (a privilege of festival week only). The man at the book stall enquired if I’d read all the books yet, remembering my previous visits! In fact, today (being out and about round town) I was beginning to realise that a lot of people were remembering me, seeing me as a familiar face! A heart-warming thought, to be happily recognised.

            While Dad returned back to the cottage, Mum, Moses and I embarked on the Hall Walk in reverse. We lazed at our bench, and at the bridge, talking of old times and enjoying being back in Cornwall; this place does something positive for a person. I’m looking forward to my next drawing; perhaps some colour.

            The evening finished off with (most of) the final episode of The Durrells and Victoria – Mum’s choices. Both enjoyable, in their way, but not my initial choice. Still, Midsomer can wait till tomorrow.

            Tomorrow also has my first festival event (I didn’t go to the piano recital earlier today, as it happened), and possibly a walk from Lansallos with Mum and Moses. The morning will also provide an opportunity to exchange my spare copy of Rule Britannia at the second hand bookshop – possibly for some drawing materials.


Day 3 – Monday, 13^th May 2019

            This morning started with Laura Varnam’s reading group at nine thirty, discussing the short story collection, The Breaking Point. I’d planned out my travelling to get there on time, only to find that the hotel I thought it was at (last year’s venue) was not in fact where it was at – I had got the venue, the Fowey Hall Hotel, mixed up with the Fowey Harbour Hotel (last year’s venue). With only fifteen minutes to find the new location, which I hadn’t envisaged, I kept going uphill, eventually using Google Maps, and arrived in a sweat, just as Laura was saying “Right, I think we’ll make a start. Hello James!” – nice to be remembered!
            Sweat streaming and feeling very hot and a bit flustered, I took a seat near the back. The room was full, but I seemed to be the only young man there.
            As Laura introduced the group I noticed a lady in front of me, whom she had addressed by name as an authority on Brontë. Though I could only see this person from behind, she looked familiar, and I was warmed to see that Helena had returned. Alas, we didn’t get to catch up on this occasion, but I wondered if she remembered me.
            The first half hour was taken up with discussion on the opening story, The Alibi. I loved being able to share my insight, considering I thought it my favourite tale, for its irony of fantasy becoming reality. One older lady said she didn’t really understand it, so I took some satisfaction in sharing something of my interpretation – murder in the heart being like physical murder.
            Realising that we’d spent more than enough time on discussing the first story, we moved on to The Chamois, The Lordly Ones (with an echo of Ben from Rebecca, which she would have written by now) and the chilling Blue Lenses. It was interesting to note the use of holiday destinations to help bring about the idea of fantasy. Afterwards I told Laura that The Archduchess to me, had echoes of The Flight of the Falcon – although the short story predates the novel.
            After the group, I had time to kill before I needed to be back in Polruan for our walk., First up, I made my way to the second hand bookshop to pass on my space copy of Rule Britannia (that Hannah, from my school reunion on Thursday, had expressed a particular interest in, working in literature). This time, unlike last year, I was unable to do a ‘trade’, but I bought some postcard (unoriginal, I felt) and my much anticipated coloured pencils – I smiled to myself as I saw myself, a thirty year old, getting excited over colouring pencils. But then art is art.
            After buying some pasties and tomatoes for our walk (like old times), I began hunting for the rooks in the shop windows – six in all, as part of a competition. I wandered all through town, even up beyond Pinky’s café, but eventually found them all. With nothing else in mind to do, I caught the passenger ferry back.
            So, the plan for the afternoon was thus – Mum and I would take Moses on a walk from Lansallos to Polruan, first catching the bus out there (and therefore avoiding a repeat of last year’s predicament).
            The weather couldn’t have been better, and soon we were on the rickety bus out to Lansallos. As we left the bus, I caught a glimpse of table-tennis table, thinking back to the fun of last year (despite my eventual loss to half-blind Mum).
            We found a nice secluded spot in a cove to enjoy our pasties – only Mum had chosen a wind funnel, so we sat, fighting against out napkins and paper bags blowing into our faces as we tried to eat!
            The walk was beautifully scenic, and we both felt much fitter than last year (helped, I think, by the fact we had no deadline this time).
            Some particular points of note are worth sharing here. First there was the curious incident of the cows barring our path. One of these black beasts looked at us firmly and stood its ground ahead of us, while another blocked us from behind. We were trapped, and it was only when the cow behind us left our path that we made a retreat – I had hoped to find an alternate path around them, though it meant climbing over a few locked gates. At the second locked gate, I was surprised to see Mum crawling! When we got back to our main path, however, the beasts were nowhere to be seen, and for a moment I thought we may have imagined the whole episode!
            Another point of note was our phone calls to the ferry people asking (pleading) for an extra ferry for tomorrow and Wednesday night – an oversight, considering the festival goers who may be ‘stranded’ over in Fowey at 10pm. Surely not good for the festival. We’ll see what happens.
            Another notable phone call was about the fridge, which had been loaded, but Dad had only now realised that the unit had not been switched on – explaining the strange smell from this morning. Consequently all our food was now thrown out – turkey, pizza etc. – much to my dismay. Still, bangers and mash tonight.
            We arrived back at six, having met a lady, Sue, who’d seen me at the book club this morning. As well as dinner, my evening consisted of art (drawing St Saviour’s Point, with colour) and Midsomer Murders – although the motive escaped me due to the late hour. Tomorrow morning would be a good time to write my postcards.
            (News just in – passenger ferry now running late. Victory!!)


Day 4 – Tuesday, 14^th May 2019

            A brief look at the day. Reasonably restful, with a more leisurely start, writing some postcards this morning. I made my way over to Fowey for the free lunchtime recital by the students from Truro School – vocal, piano and trumpet music. The closing ensemble piece ‘You raise me up’ gave me shivers, as it sounded so crisp and clear, the male and female voice parts really coming through.

            This was followed by a light lunch in the yacht club (prawn and smoked salmon salad and a half of Tribute) during which a local man, Tony, shared with me at length about the difference of Doom Bar sales in comparison to Tribute, which I felt was harder to come by. Somehow, the conversation then drifted towards wartime and Daphne du Maurier’s husband, and eventually schooners versus ketches, giving me a load of new information which I have now all but forgotten!

            My mind was also somewhat preoccupied as the wind was picking up, making me slightly uncomfortable sitting out on the terrace. I was also keenly aware that my laundry was draped over the chair in the garden. I was envisaging various articles blowing across the lawn, or, dare I say, over the cliff! However, poor signal meant Mum was unreachable.

            Later, with a short respite in between (with our books, outside the cottage), Mum and I headed to dinner at the Galleon for burgers; Mum was busy eyeing up another table with a better river view, but the lady wasn’t showing any signs on moving.

            The evening’s brass band concert was a lively mixture of film theme tunes, including Toy Story, Braveheart, Saving Private Ryan, The Lion King and a couple of James Bond themes. I particularly enjoyed the choral arrangement of Goldfinger, and the solo of For Your Eyes Only which was emotive due in part to its familiarity.

            Our evening ended with the fruit of our mini victory with the passenger ferry, as we got our trip back over (with a few others).

            In all, a full day despite a lack of long walks – maybe tomorrow.