Final Festival Talk: A Space to Write

“I am creative. I am a writer: this is what I do and this is who I am”

I went to one festival talk on my own entitled: A Space to Write.  There is a book of the same name which inspired the talk and was already known to me.  It had caught my eye in the Sunday supplements a while back and made my way onto the “books to read one day” list, but it’s too costly to buy new and doesn’t seem available as used.  Perhaps I could ask for it as a birthday or Christmas present.  Anyway: a book in which writers talk about their respective writing spaces and discuss their approach to their craft – wonderful!  And the talk was wonderful.  I loved it! Continue reading “Final Festival Talk: A Space to Write”

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)”

Festival Talks and Festival Walks (i)

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)”

The View from Here: tangled thoughts and tattered expectations

I can’t always sing from the treetops about how wonderful life is because sometimes, it’s not.

This past Saturday was the start of our Fowey Festival experience.  I had been so looking forward to it: I’ve never attended an event like this before and B and I have done relatively little together on the cultural front.   Also, this would be our first introduction to Fowey.  We’ve lived here well over a month and we’ve yet to venture over there.  Now we’ll be going several times in a week.  Continue reading “The View from Here: tangled thoughts and tattered expectations”

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: tea with Daphne revisited

“There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.” Although I would have to add: “… with a wondrous book to hand”.

Today has been a no-weather day, only the second such day that I’ve acknowledged since we arrived. No-weather days are at the bottom of the heap: no rain, no sun, no wind.  Nothing.  Just the world waiting… waiting for something to happen next. Continue reading “The View from Here: tea with Daphne revisited”

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”