Everywhere there are signs of productivity, passion, history and love
Yesterday Bernie & I visited the Lost Gardens of Heligan. I have wanted to go there for years – since well before the notion of moving here came into being. I’ve come close once or twice and it’s never quite happened. Finally, we’ve managed it – on a balmy afternoon in mid-September when everything colluded to give me an experience to treasure. Continue reading “The Lost Gardens of Heligan: an afternoon of history, tranquility and delight”
I wonder what thoughts were passing through her mind: what hopes, dreams and expectations. She probably didn’t huff and puff as much as I did
Karina arrived last night. A whirlwind of enthusiasm and energy, ours is a friendship of opposites. We met when she enrolled her son at the school where I taught; and in time she became a member of staff herself. When the school closed our friendship continued to blossom. I like and admire her for her forthrightness, her spirited independence and her passion. Where I am reticent in revealing my feelings, Karina wears her heart on her sleeve and can be no other way. It was a joy to welcome her to Highfield. Continue reading “Half of the Hall Walk”
I did have a naïve, romantic expectation of seeing something “like I’d see on the telly”
Our second guided walk was more for B although I had high hopes for it too. We travelled to Charlestown – a little place west of Fowey – which is a purpose-built and perfectly preserved Georgian harbour and has been used in many films and tv productions. Continue reading “Festival Talks and Festival Walks (iii)”
I did worry slightly about whether discovering pleasure in a guided walk puts me even more firmly into a certain age bracket. And then I thought: so what?
One talk down: next came the guided walks. Guided walks have never been my thing. Communal events in general are not my thing. But in this new chapter of life I really do want to embrace the traditions and the history of our adopted home, and to do that properly you need to participate and experience – even if only as a member of the audience. Reading about an event is just not enough. Continue reading “Festival Talks and Festival Walks (ii)”
A number of gentlemen in the audience immediately put their hands to their own ‘flowing locks’
There are a great many events within festival week: walks and talks making up only a part of what’s on offer. There are workshops and musical performances and foodie things; there are debates and book signings and group readings. I was seriously tempted by the harp workshop; Continue reading “Festival Talks and Festival Walks (i)”
Yesterday our ferry had whipped harsh words around my head as we sailed: cold, wet, grey, brooding. This morning our ferry laughed gaily and sang of buoys and boats, seagulls and sunshine.
The day after our inaugural crossing to Fowey we were scheduled to return, this time in the morning in readiness for a guided walk. And this time the sun was out. What a difference! Continue reading “Polruan and Fowey, come rain, come shine. Part two … sun”
Sadly, our particular ferry did not have a roof … the journey was damp and bracing. Grey and mercifully short.
We’ve now crossed to Fowey and back twice. What a contrast between the two visits.
When we set out for our first festival event – a talk of B’s choosing – the sky was dark and a few spots of rain fell as we climbed into the car. “It’ll stop,” we said, “It’s nothing.” It did not stop. We did not take coats.
Continue reading “Polruan and Fowey: come rain, come shine. Part one … rain”