Fowey Festival 2019

The debate could have gone on for much longer; there are as many versions of Daphne’s relationship with Cornwall as there are people with a story to tell.

When Ali first posted about her plans to run a Daphne du Maurier Reading Week, she mentioned that she shares her birthday with Daphne – 13th May – and also that the Fowey Festival is always timed to include that date.  Started in 1997, the festival was originally named after Daphne.  It is now called the Fowey Festival of Arts and Literature and has broadened in content although du Maurier and her work continue to be a primary focus.  It seems fitting that I end my series of Daphne posts with an account of my festival experience this year, limited though it was. Continue reading “Fowey Festival 2019”

Dungeness: dropped from the back of a lorry

This was once a lonely, forgotten place and people who came here did so because they wanted the lifestyle that went with it: private and elemental

Under the looming geometry of the power station, small shacks were dotted about untidily, as if they’d been dropped accidentally from the back of a lorry.  In recent years, the millionaires had arrived.  Some huts had been rebuilt as luxury houses with big glass doors and shiny flues.  Others still looked like they were made from scraps pilfered from a tip.

The Birdwatcher (William Shaw) Continue reading “Dungeness: dropped from the back of a lorry”

The View from Here: Dungeness

The panorama is surreal, alien, unique
The view from here is harsh and it takes no prisoners

I may have been eager for what has seemed like an especially long winter to end, but a small part of me has been glad we have had to wait for a run of reliable spring days, because I have been writing about Dungeness in winter.  A task which doesn’t sit easily among vistas of skipping lambs and primroses, soft blue skies and playful breezes. Continue reading “The View from Here: Dungeness”

A Triptych on Dartmoor: a tor, a trip, a tourist tale

Second of three

Sometimes stories are necessary for quieting the soul

Bogs … prisons … tors …

It is said that no matter where you look on Dartmoor, you can’t help but have a tor in view.  Frustrating then, that I managed to miss all of them in the wider landscape shots I took.  But we did spend some time getting acquainted with one tor in particular. Continue reading “A Triptych on Dartmoor: a tor, a trip, a tourist tale”