Ideas from the Heart

… when my heart is awake and I write from that aliveness

Either side of the inspiring talk, A Space to Write, I found myself wandering alone in Fowey through narrow streets and tentative showers.  The town was quiet, and as soon as I moved from the quayside and the tangle of small shops and cafes, it grew quieter still.  What cars there were moved slowly and softly; forced to creep along because the streets ARE very narrow.  Almost every person had a dog.  Such a lot of dogs in Fowey.  Continue reading “Ideas from the Heart”

Festival Talks and Festival Walks (iii)

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)”

Festival Talks and Festival Walks (ii)

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)”

Polruan and Fowey, come rain, come shine. Part two … sun

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”

Polruan and Fowey: come rain, come shine. Part one … rain

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”

The View from Here: Polperro

A gaggle of higgledy houses; warm-fronted cafes; artists’ shops, novelty shops, bohemian clothes shops, ice cream shops; pubs, gulls and fishing boats.

The sun was shining; we both felt relaxed and free.  B wanted petrol for the mower; I wanted to get us registered with our local doctor.  “Let’s do both,” we said.   Continue reading “The View from Here: Polperro”

The View from Here: Lerryn

The view from here stretched back centuries: time meant very little.

Tuesdays have become notable since we arrived here.  On our first Tuesday I found Lansallos Cove.  On our second Tuesday Broadband found us.  And on this, our third Tuesday, we woke at dawn and B said: “Let’s go out for lunch today.”  And we did.  It was perfect. Continue reading “The View from Here: Lerryn”

A Flying Visit (or Best Laid Plans?)

I’d managed my first trip away from Cornwall without permanent mishap.

My sons run.  I rarely watch them in shorter races but marathons are different.  So much time invested; such discipline, training and preparation; markers set for personal improvement.  That degree of effort deserves support in its own right, but also, I like watching.  The larger events are awash with atmosphere and humanity: competitors from the silent, skeletal knots of African elites, invariably leading, through to the overweight, the joggers and the walkers.  Costumed runners; joyful runners; haggard and struggling runners; hobbling, shuffling, waddling. They’re all here – and I applaud them for lining up, for having a go. Continue reading “A Flying Visit (or Best Laid Plans?)”

The View from Here: Lansallos Cove

The view from here was monochrome and sparkling…

Today is allegedly to be our only day of sunshine for quite some time.  I really wanted to make use of that sunshine.  The removal guys arrived nice and early with the rest of our belongings that hadn’t fitted on the lorry last week.  The additional payment after our mistake over access was agreed amicably with smiles and handshakes all round.  I even got a hug and a kiss! Continue reading “The View from Here: Lansallos Cove”

The View from Here: making peace with Dora

The view from here is picture-postcard pretty: tangles of tiny lanes …

After a few hours’ work yesterday, exhaustion set in.  We were both tired, an understandable reaction perhaps, after the intensity of recent days.  The rain continued and we settled into a comfortable slump for the rest of the day.  I dozed on the sofa; I dozed in the bath; I dozed in front of the tv.  And still I slept deeply when bedtime finally arrived.  Much-needed rest.

This morning I woke late – after B; and had my first cup of tea brought to me in bed.  Lovely!  Energy levels were restored, even if the weather was not.  Continue reading “The View from Here: making peace with Dora”