Chapter Seventy Nine - Cornwall 2019 (Part 2)

Day 5 – Wednesday, 15^th May 2019 

            Looking back on today, with a cup of tea and Welsh cakes, having enjoyed the festival jazz evening, I am reminded that the week is half over – time is suddenly speeding up, with only one more full day with Moses and Dad, who both depart on Friday.

            To save on writing time, the day also has three main notes of interest.

            This morning saw the second of the two reading groups with Dr Laura. This time round I didn’t get lost, and I found myself catching the ferry with Sue (Monday evening), which helped immensely!

            Sitting with Sue for the book discussion, we keenly participated in the talk about Daphne du Maurier’s second novel I’ll Never Be Young Again, completed in two months! Apparently, the critics at the time were of mixed opinions – one said that it wasn’t perfect (but it was only her second novel) but showed promise. Someone also raised the interesting thought that I had not considered; that Jake may have been imaginary, coming from the insecurity the main character felt from living in his father’s shadow. However, this point is left tantalisingly ambiguous. The discussion came to a close at about ten thirty-five, and Laura asked me for suggestions for next year’s groups – I suggested the novels Mary Anne and The Glass Blowers, both unfamiliar to me. It was nice to be asked, and I really began to feel like one of the valued regulars!

            Next, after some time idly wandering around town (and wondering whether or not to purchase the DVD of Hitchcock’s The Birds for a tenner) and ‘browsing’ in the art gallery, Mum and Moses arrived and we set off on the Hall Walk – via hot chocolates at the Old Ferry Inn. It was here we met two ladies, Vicky and Lesley, out walking, who we’d been inadvertently following from place to place. They were also going on the Hall Walk and so for the first part, until our bench, we were aware of trailing behind them. They ended up keeping our bench warm for us, leaving when we arrived!

            Later on the walk, just before the bridge at the halfway point (‘Pont’), Moses, in a happy mood, inadvertently became a smelly dog whilst rolling around in a field (of cows). This then led to my attempt to wash him in the river, which only partly worked, as we realised (with the aid of a lively collie-cross called Loki) that Moses had got himself into deep water and wasn’t able to get himself out – he looked a sorry sight. I came to the rescue!

            The walk finished without further incident, and back at the cottage we eventually got him clean.

            The evening’s jazz concert was a lot of fun. Annika was back on form this year, dazzling us with her repertoire and range of languages (Swedish, Portuguese and French – as well as English). The ‘collective’ also comprised of piano, double bass and drums, leading to an enjoyable set (despite the similar feel of many songs, possibly just a common observation in jazz music).

            In all, a hugely enjoyable and eventful day. I just wish I had more time in this beautiful place.

Day 6 – Thursday, 16^th May 2019

            The day started with a guided tour of Daphne’s Fowey, for Mum and myself at ten (which Moses, left behind, took exception to). I mistakenly booked myself onto the walk for a second time, as I’d forgotten that I’d done it previously. That said, it was still enjoyable and Dawn, the guide, weaved in various extracts from Daphne’s novels, as we made our way through the town (from Readymoney to the quay). Nice not to relay the information to Mum second hand, this time!

           At a quarter to one, the walk wrapped up, Mum and I headed to the yacht club to meet Dad for a quick lunch; I needed to get to my next event at two. It was significant as only the second time this holiday that the three of us had eaten out together, and poignant as it would be the last time, too – Dad would leave tomorrow, with Moses.

           My fish and chips arrived in plenty of time, so thankfully I didn’t need to rush my meal.

           When I arrived at the town hall for Dr Laura’s talk on the anniversaries of two of Daphne’s memorable novels – The Parasites and The House on the Strand – I found a seat between two people, a man and a woman. To my surprise, both of them (Steve on my right, Kate on my left) already knew who I was! It seems my posts and comments from Facebook and the Daphne du Maurier Society group preceded me. I was something of a known figure in the town.

           To briefly share something of Laura’s talk, it was interesting to note that Daphne was actually very funny in her writing – humour played a big part in her stories. This was particularly evident in The Parasites, which had some plainly laugh-out-loud moments (but none come to mind right now). The Parasites was also noteworthy due to the unique narrative style, uniting the thoughts of the three main characters. I wondered if this somehow echoed Daphne’s interactions with her siblings and parents.

           The House on the Strand was a perfect example of Daphne’s dedication to historical accuracy, skilfully interwoven with a gripping storyline in the present day. This talent for detail adds credibility to her tales, making them memorable and readable.

           After the talk I had some shopping to do on the Fowey side, before I crossed the river again. Frist stop was Bookends, the bookshop, where I was similarly recognised by Ann, the owner. Taken aback at how known I suddenly appeared to be (and slightly flattered) I made small talk about the festival whilst purchasing some DVDs – The Birds and The Scapegoat, neither of which I had seen. I couldn’t resist!

           Then onwards to the outdoor supplies shop to buy a load of camping stuff for my upcoming Scotland holiday – some things were on offer, but somehow I still ended up paying a lot. Enthusiasm of youth?

           I saw Sue on the ferry, a familiar face. She would be at the film tomorrow night.

           After sharing some time with Dad over a pint, we headed back to the cottage for dinner. I also put on The Scapegoat, feeling glad of the free evening. The film stuck close to the novel, but some scenes differed – I, personally, preferred the novel for its suspense and detail. Later I added a comment online, leading to further discussion about this adaptation.

           After a relaxing evening, it felt time to round things up. Reluctantly, I decided to go to bed, knowing all too well that this would only make Friday come quicker and hasten the end of our week together. Still, time goes on.

Day 7 – Friday, 17^th May 2019

            You catch me writing this having just got back in from tonight’s movie, at just after eleven. My second dinner (remnants of cottage pie) is before me, and more than before, I am in a reflective mood.

            The first goodbye came in the morning, with Dad preparing to leave with Moses – he had a church function to get back for. I was greeted by Moses in the usual way (friendly growls, and with a tennis ball that he wouldn’t drop, playfully running back and forth). With a free morning, as my only literature festival event was the film this evening, I decided to walk Moses up to St Saviour’s Point, enjoying the cool air and giving him some dedicated time. I was going to miss the (not so) little chap. On my return I said farewell to Dad and Moses, with all traces of them now removed from around the cottage. I saw the car out of the gate, and watched as it disappeared around the corner. The place was suddenly much quieter.

            Meanwhile, Mum was practising for her concert on Saturday evening, so I was left to entertain myself for an hour or so. Braving the cool breeze, I sat outside with my book, but soon became engrossed in another sketch – this time of the garden and the side of the cottage, looking out to sea. I was particularly keen to draw a building rather than just nature, as I had previously struggled with trees and foliage. It was, amongst other things, a good exercise in perspective (although I cheated a bit, taking a snapshot of the view on my phone, thus establishing a border). When the wind picked up, it seemed like an appropriate moment to stop. I was glad to have done a third drawing this holiday – a satisfying number.

            A late lunch followed; Mum treated me (us) to a fry up, using the bacon, sausages, potatoes, bread (fried) and single egg (scrambled) with a pot of strong tea. Then we settled down to a Midsomer – which didn’t feel so bad because of the grey weather outside. In this particular episode, The Sword of Guillaume, however, I was shocked at how graphic the murders were – the prosthetics department must’ve had fun!

            After various quiz shows (Pointless, Eggheads) Mum and I set off for the evening film of Frenchman’s Creek in the church, due to popularity. It was a rarity, and Dr Laura had provided her own DVD for the occasion. On entering the church at half past seven (for eight), we found it was filling up fast, and Mum found us a space in the middle. However, seeing Sue again, and hoping (in vain) to join her, we lost our good seats and had to settle for some further back. We could see clearly, but alas the sound quality was poor and some dialogue was muffled. I thought this was due to the age of the film (1944), but Mum said it was because of the volume. I spoke to the sound chap at the interval, and it transpired that it was due to a poor choice of location and a lot of empty space. That said, the sound quality improved somewhat in the second half. The plot was easy to follow anyway, although I was disappointed not to see Dona running barefoot through Fowey, as had been described to us on yesterday’s walk. Despite the sound, it was still a very enjoyable evening.

           As the ferry took us back to Polruan for the last time, I noted this was my second goodbye. The town, asleep, made the occasion slightly less of a wrench.

            So I have come full circle, and I really need to pack. Here I’ll say goodnight.

Day 8 – Saturday, 18^th May 2019

            Today was our farewell to Polruan. Having packed most of my things last night, all that remained was to tidy the place up. I was sad to leave, but with the end of the festival in sight (finishing today), things wouldn’t have been the same had we stayed (if that were possible). The living room was tidied, the things were washed up in the kitchen and the rooms were checked for any last items. Once we were both satisfied that nothing had been left behind (and I’d taken some final pictures of the house, to aid my memories), we went up to the point to enjoy a final view out to sea. The weather was cool, and there wasn’t much action on the sea.

            Pasties and tomatoes bought for lunch, Mum and I made our way off onto the road, destination Plymouth (then onwards to Totnes).

            Mum had a concert this evening, but considering our Cornwall holiday has come to an end, I’ll close here.

            It has been a lovely week, with many memories to savour. I can’t quite believe it’s back to London tomorrow. Long may our Cornwall holidays continue, God willing.