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Saturday New years Eve 2011

We got up and finished our packing. While loading the car we couldn’t help but notice how measurably more full it had got. Never mind,it’s all good stuff. We locked up the flat and drove over to Mam’s to say our goodbyes. We chatted to Mam, had a cuppa, then just before we were about to leave, she asked; “Where’s my trifle bowl boy?” Bugger! I left the girls with Mam, and went back to find it. Now where could it be? We’d cleaned and polished the whole bloody flat everywhere, and not come across it at all. I’d have remembered it if I had, or at least Lee-Anne would’ve remembered for me.

Where do you keep trifle? In the fridge of course.

We hadn’t emptied the fridge at all, it was still heaving, half full of grub. I took out the virtually empty trifle bowl and washed it. I divided the rest into three categories; stuff to take with us, (most of it,) stuff to give to Mam, (bugger all,) stuff to bin, ( a small amount.) Mam was ever so pleased that I hadn’t smashed her trifle bowl, but not as much as I was. We drove to Louise’s said our goodbyes there too, and set off down the M4.

We stopped off in Weston to catch up with Pete and Catherine, and it was great to see them. They gave us out Xmas pressies, which were fantastic, and included the complete  DVD series of “Gavin and Stacey”, something I had been meaning to buy. Pete showed me his new bike, dead classy it is too, I want one!

We went for lunch at their local, “The Woolpack Inn” it’s a fine boozer. Unfortunately though  it was a fine boozer with a numbskull barmaid on duty. I noticed she didn’t seem to be the brightest bulb on the Xmas tree when I went up to order drinks, it was a bit like talking to a fencepost. I asked her THREE FUCKING TIMES to ensure my bangers and mash was of the Quorn sausage variety, and not meat. She had the gall to look offended when I reminded her for the third time. Guess what I was given? Poor old Catherine also had her meal delivered with the exact opposite items to those she had requested. If you know Catherine you know that, like Lee-Anne, she is not someone to bugger about. The orders went back, and when the grub arrived in its correct form, it was well good.

When we were  departing from Pete and Catherine’s we implored them to consider coming down to stay with us, while we were staying in Devon in a week’s time.

We had stayed a bit long in Weston, so had to crack  on a bit  to get to Sennen if we were to see the New Year in there as planned. The urgency of this was conveyed to us by the ever increasingly hysterical phone calls from Jamesy. Him and Rachel were already there, and dreading New Years at the end of the world with no security against the Cornish. The last call we took while we were getting supplies in at Tescos in Penzance. “Jamesy, I’m almost here, calm down for fuck’s sake and have a beer. Don’t worry, it really is nothing like “Straw Dogs,” there.  I know  it was shot in Sennen using locals as cast, but it was just a movie for fuck’s sake! Believe me, you will be safe from the locals.”

We found the digs, and great they were too, although Jamesy, Rachel, and introducing Helen, got the best deal. We had barely unpacked and sorted out who was in which bedroom, when Janet and Howard turned up, great to see them both again, much hugs and kisses were exchanged. Clarkie rang up and informed us that he had managed to make the trip from Ireland to Sennen safely, and that he was ensconced in his B&B, and so far Catherine showed no intent of killing him. If you’ve ever spent time with Clarkie you’d know why people tend to get violent around him.

We drove to “The First and Last”, and abandoned our car there. Walking back in the rain would not be so bad, it never is when you have the beer overcoat and beer taxi to call on. The place was relatively quiet, but soon filled up, and loads of my old drinking buddies were met, chatted with, tales swapped and friendships renewed.

(For some stupid reason I forgot to take my camera with me, if anyone has any photos of NYE can they email them to me please?)

We found an area of seating big enough for our expanding gang. It had only one person and two kids sat in it, and so we commandeered that for the evening. The other person, a girl in her thirties, who turned out to be Welsh, was alone with her kids that night, so we invited her to join our party, and so she did. She was a bit mad, and very Welsh, so she fitted in well. Then Clarkie and Catherine arrived, and introductions were made. I got stuck into the “Doom Bar Bitter”, which is a great pint. Soon the place was in full party mode. There was a  fancy dress theme for the evening; “Gangsters and Molls”. We hadn’t known this was happening, which was a shame, as I love dressing up as a moll. Many people had made the effort though, and many of them looked great. An exception to this was a person of indeterminate sex who although dressed as a “flapper”, looked more like a transvestite all in wrestler. Oh, and Luke Angove had come as “Robocop”, and someone else had come as Fred Flinstone, one can only presume to get their money’s worth out of the costumes.

The band kicked off, they were pretty damn good, they played rock versions of standard floor fillers. I looked around and saw Lee-Anne had become the first person up on the dance floor, oh dear, this doesn’t bode well for the morning. So the evening passed in a haze of chat and beer and dancing and catching up with everybody, bloody brilliant. I bumped into Vou, a girl I had worked with in mental health in Penzance for many years, we nattered for a bit an I got an insight into how much things had changed in my job since I had left.

Come midnight and the TV showed the fireworks on Tower Bridge, and the band played a metal/thrash version of “Auld Lang Syne“, and everybody danced and hugged and kissed. Even I got up on the dance floor and shook my funky stuff, much to Bethy’s dismay. There were a few fireworks let off outside the pub, and more hugging and kissing. Funnily enough many of the men kissed each other, and even me, too! Have Sennen men, and my mates, really got that cosmopolitan, hip, Metrosexual, and “touchy feely”? Or were we just very very pissed?

Clarkie found a young man dressed as a chauffeur and offered him a wedge of cash to drive him and Catherine home to the B&B. He agreed, not surprising as he was doing it, as he has done for a couple of years, to raise cash for Uni. Fair play to him.

Eventually, come chucking out time, we staggered off into the dark, and back to the digs. I do not remember any of this trip home at all, and seeing as everyone was relying on me to find the way back, they were lucky, and I was even more lucky, that I didn’t decide to do my usual; “Follow me! I know a short-cut home through these fields,” trick.

Sunday: New years Day.

As you may imagine, all was not well the next morning, as in “Ooh, me fucking head!” Apart from Bethy that is who had had nothing stronger than “lemon, lime and & bitters” the night before. We have never forbid her from drinking alcohol, quite the contrary, she knows that should she wish she could have a glass of wine at home, or when out for a meal with us, she just doesn’t fancy it. Though I suppose living with me would be enough to put anyone off alcohol.

Jamesy, Rachel and Helen decided they were going down to the cove for a walk, and best of fucking luck to them, it was drizzling and blowing a gale. Clarkie and Catherine turned up, at our digs, Clarkie looking a bit sheepish, and green. Catherine informed us that in his drunk state the night before, Clarkie had had a great deal of difficulty finding the loo in the B&B. This had necessitated him  rearranging the furniture, removing paintings from the walls, and having several near misses with glass ornaments.  God knows why B&B owners feel the need to fill every available space in their lodgings with breakables, Clarkie had my every sympathy. Fortunately Catherine had steered him to the right room, and pointed him in the right direction,  before he committed the ultimate indignity.

So we decided that it was time for us too to do something energetic too. We decided to do one of my favourite UK walks, well when I say; “we decided,” it was more a case of “I decided.” But it’s a cracker.  The walk is circular, and takes in Trevilley where we have our house, Nanjizal Bay, Carn Boel, Pordenack point, Lands End, Sennen watch, and then back to the head of the cove. It’s a lovely, lovely,  walk, one I hope I never tire of.

We set off into the drizzle. After a while, we  passed our house which fired off some mixed  emotions for me. While looking about in the courtyard our house faces into, I saw a guy come out of our place. I introduced myself, he was/is Frank, one of our new tenants. We agreed that we should call around later in the week to have a natter about the place, and to get to know him and his partner Nickie, and them us.

Walking the fields towards Nanjizal, we saw a group approaching us, it turned out to be Pete, Sara, and Aidan, Trevilley residents all. A brief natter was had, but despite the sun being out stopping for a gossip was not a good idea as it was a bit parky to say the least, and drizzle was threatening on the horizon again. We all agreed to try to catch up sometime in the week.

Halfway round the loop Bethy started feeling unwell, so her and Lee-Anne took a shortcut back via Lands End. Me, Clarkie and Catherine pushed on, and were rewarded for our efforts by a glorious sunset.

We also stumbled across the wreck, not literally, of the RMS Mulhiem, which was spectacular, though a bit sad.

Getting back, and following a mad rush to St Just, I managed to get some stuff for our tea, and snacks and booze to take next door, as Jamesy, Rachel and Helen were hosting us that night. A pleasant night of beers, wines, snacks, chat, telling tales and swapping stories was well underway when Helen made the unfortunate error of getting a Trivia quiz out while Clarkie was present. Not her fault, we should have warned her. Clarkie knows everything, and can be very fucking boring on most subjects in depth and at length. And so he did, and was, and we refrained from hitting him.

Monday  2/1/12

 

We got a rude awakening, quite early, from Clarkie and Catherine who had come to say their goodbyes. Sad to see them go after such a brief visit, but they had family waiting for them to return to Ireland.  Seeing as Clarkie lives in Luxembourg, with his son David, and Catherine lives in Ireland with their daughters Sinead and Emma, (just don’t ask, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,) and school holidays are the only times the whole family get together, it was wonderfully kind and touching of them both to come over to see us. For all my piss taking out of Clarkie, he knows what I really think, and how much I value his friendship. Besides, he’s just about  the only person,  (him and Wynn, truth be told,) who ever say nice things about my music, and actualy mean them, so I have a dependence on him for my musical self esteem.

After they departed, we wizzed into Penzance to get the ingredients for the Rogan Josh that Lee-Anne had promised she’d cook everyone for the evening meal.

It was decided that I would give Jamesy, Rachel and Helen the guided tour of the loop we did yesterday, Bethy and Lee-Anne found the prospect of dossing in front of the fire far more inviting. So off we went leaving them behind. At virtually the same spot we had bumped into the Trevilley crowd the day before, we bumped into Vou, my ex-work colleague, and her family, who were out for a post new year stroll. Nice to catch up again, especially as I was then sober.

When we hit the “no return” point of the loop at the bottom of Najiizal hill, it pissed down. So girding our loins we pushed on. Reaching Carn Boel the sun came out.  I fired off some snaps. Then it hailed. We reached Pordenack, and bumped into Aidan my farmer mate again, and then the sun came out, though I’m sure this was just a coincidence. We certainly got “four seasons in one day” as the song has it. Unfortunately this was the last time I was to meet Aidan. Despite all my good intentions and e-mails leading up to us coming down to Sennen, I didn’t get to catch up with him properly, ah well.

 

(I’ve just noticed that my spellchecker flags “Sennen” as “semen”. Freud would have a field day.)

We pressed on. The wind continued howling, the weather changed from wet to sunny and back to wet again with amazing rapidity. I did my best ‘tour guide” bit and pointed out Neolithic remains, bronze age burial sites, places I’d done climbs, various shipwreck sites, leylines, roman ruins, treacherous rocks,  and places I’d had open air fucks. The majority of these were welcomed with an enthusiasm, though not all. The willingness of Jamesy, Rachel and Helen to divert for half a mile to see another “place of interest” seemed to wane the further into the journey we got, for the life of me I cannot fathom why.

When I got back Lee-Anne informed me that we had forgot to get ginger and cinnamon, two essential ingredients for the curry, so a mad dash back to Penzance was needed.

Back at the house Howard and Janet arrived, and, while Lee-Anne cooked we all got stuck into the vino. We did this soley in the vain hope of not overburdening Jamesy’s car with the gallons of wine we seemed to have collected, for its journey home the next day. We did our best. Well I did. The curry, as ever, was fantastic, everybody was duly impressed. As they were when Helen cracked out the blackberry tart she had kindly made and brought down with her.

The night was fun, but most of us crashed out early following an overdose of curry, blackberry tart and coast path walking.

 

Tuesday 3/1/12

We were woken by a storm, which seemed to put paid to our plans for the day. While Jamesy and co packed, I took a spin into the cove to try and get some shots of the storm, and to avoid helping. It certainly was a dramatic sea; and I took a fair few shots, none of which turned out any good as the weather was foul. Idiot.  By the time I got back the weather had cleared, and most of the hard work was done. Sorted.  So we again revised our plan. Janet had promised us free tickets to the Minack theatre, and Jamesy and co wanted to see this phenomena. The Minack is a wonderful open air theatre, carved into the granite of a Cornish headland. It’s the work, mainly of one (completely barking mad,) woman and her gardener. So with Jamesy’s car packed, we took off. Janet was good to her word, and we got the free tickets. After a bit of tooing and froing, all my fault, we eventually got to the Minak. There we found out the free tickets were out of date.

Still the Minack is always worth a visit, and what with the wind and the sea putting on a bravura show of the power of the natural elements, we enjoyed our time there immensely. Some humour was added to the visit by Bethy finding some “Ass Fudge” in the gift shop.

Cultured out for the day, and time being pressing, Jamesy followed behind me to Penzance, and there we said our goodbyes. Such a shame to see them go, it was great having them down at Sennen.

We parked up in Penzance, and the girls went off to do some shopping, again,  so I decided to have some me time. First port of call was to stop off at Kelvin’s shop. Kelv and me had been neighbours at Trevilley for some time, he now runs an emporium in Penzance. Originally a second hand book shop, he’s expand his empire to take in paintings and antiques, although the antiques are curated by Holly, his daughter. Great to catch up and swap yarns, Kelv said he’d try to catch up with us later that week for a pint.

Unfortunately I had to leave before Kelv could talk me into going for a beer, as I had an appointment with Fleur, our lettings agent. Saying goodbye, I made my way up Causewayhead to the office. I’d not met Fleur before, and we had a good chat about Trevilley, the new tenants, and work which needed doing, (think £ £ £ £ £ £!!!) I then had to rush off to meet the girls, though I did stop off at Oxfam and got a copy of the DVD  “How to irritate people” for a couple of bob, (not that I need any advice on that matter.)

Pausing to take a picture of the statue of Humphrey Davey, I was assaulted by a gale force attack of Linda. Linda talks so fast she could be Welsh. Great to see her, and promises were made that we’d meet up with her, and Rob her husband, before we left.

I got to the girls just in time, Driving to Newlyn Combe we grabbed some pastys from Aunty May’s pasty shop, I was greedy and had two, and then made our way back to our digs at Sennen.

We had a quiet night in, watched some DVD’s, and, after a brief bit of excitement when all the power failed, we made it to bed just after midnight. Hang about? It’s after midnight, it’s my birthday!

 

Wednesday 4/1/12 (me birthday!)

My first treat of the day was poached eggs on toast for breakfast; Lee-Anne does the world’s best poached eggs on toast. Then I got to open my presents, I got a classy hat, a great jacket, and a new rucksack, all of which were perfect, I couldn’t have chosen better myself!

Following this we took a walk along Sennen beach in a force 8 gale, which as you will have guessed, was my idea, and my treat, rather than theirs. Between bouts of getting sandblasted and soaked we tried to enjoy ourselves. I had no difficulty in this, I love being on a beach in those conditions, the other two not so much. I showed them the beach which is owned and regulated by an old acquaintance of mine. Hell of a thing to own, and it only cost her a lifetime of sucking up to granny to get it. Bargain!

We got back to the digs, but as I was still feeling restless I took myself off on my own, the others having had enough of being battered by the elements for one day.  I walked along  Maria’s lane and got to the lookout to take photos. Not much cop again.

I decided to phone, and to tell anyone who would listen, that it was my birthday, and to celebrate it I was stood on Sennen watch in a gale. This was exciting for me, but not many people were interested in discussing it, for some strange reason. 

I decided to stroll down to the cove.  There I popped into the lifeboat station, and caught up with Terry George, he is the Coxswain of the lifeboat, and runs the Sennen Cove website. Great to meet up with him, and to share a bit of chat.

I stomped back to the digs up “Stone Chair Lane”, I stopped on the stone chair. It was in the lee of the wind, I sat there sheltered and snug,  while the rain poured into the cove. The view was superb, filled with memory. So I sat, and remembered, and reminisced, but had to leave before I started getting all morose and maudlin. Again.

Howard came and picked us up for an evening at their place.  Janet had promised to cook, amongst other things, the spicy Thai soup she had made the last time we were over. It was just as good this time round, I must get the recipe off her.  Spotting a book on the coffee table, I had to bloody say; “Who’s reading this? I’ve just finished reading it, it’s  bloody good tale!” Janet looked at Howard. “That was going to be your birthday present Taff!” Oh bollocks! They had also kindly got me a framed print of Pordenack Point, it clearly shows one of my favourite climbs hereabouts, (one Charlie shat out of doing.)

Rob and Linda turned up, and hugs and greetings were exchanged. Rob raved about his new hobby of “geocaching”, it sounded rather jolly. He did offer to take me out for a try while I was there, but circumstances prevailed against it. Rob will be pleased to know I’m sure, that later in the holiday Bethy found two “letterboxes” on Hound Tor. Rob informed me; “I was doing some work over at Gwynver (that “owned beach” I was telling you about earlier,) the other day, she still remembers you you know.” Hardly surprising, “once met never forgotten”, as they say. “She still thinks you’re a twat, she’s never forgiven you for calling her “pampered and pretentious.””

“Once met never forgiven,”  would be more accurate then. It’s not my fault, I was probably trying to chat her up at the time, and being rude, obnoxious and insulting were my main techiques. No, they never worked.

We had something of a late night. Great company, great, great company. Coming on top of my stop on Stone Chair Lane, it made me realise how much I missed my friends, how painful parting from each of them had been. This was not to help one bit, once I started thinking about it, and with every person we had seen and would see, the feeling got stronger and stronger.

Thursday 5/1/12

After a lie in, we decided to take ourselves off to Padstow for the day. This I informed the girls was; “a long drive.” This, they informed me, was not a “long drive”, and that I should realise that they were still Australian, and in Australia a “long drive” would be measured in weeks. After a short drive we arrived in Padstow. We found our way to the quay, the quay on which I had proposed to Lee-Anne over a decade earlier. Bethy took our photo there, here we were again,  ten years plus on, who’d have thought it?

We had planned to eat at Rick Stein’s cafe while there, but despite using a local map, we couldn’t find it. We settled instead for Rick Stein’s fish and chip shop. What a wonderful place! Not cheap by any standards, but the girl’s fish and chips were first rate, and my “bubble and squeak “ and chips was amusing and tasty. Ther tea they served wasn’t that great though. Lee-Anne asked me if I wanted to try her fish, knowing I was committed  to eat fish, for the first time in thirty years,  later in the holiday. But I declined. Though looking back I wish I had had some now.

Surprisingly full after our meal we wandered back into town. (I was so full I decided against having one of Rick Stein’s pastys for desert!)There we found the cafe we’d been looking for. We also found the gift shop he owns, (it’s not known as “Padstein” for nothing!) Rooting amongst the bargains there, Lee-Anne found a china pot, which would make an ideal present for her Aunt. It was modestly priced at thirteen quid. We took it to the till; “Ooh that should be in the sale,” said the lady serving, “it should only be £8.00” We didn’t object. Though having bought it and feeling very smug with our canny purchase, we realised that we would now have to get it home to Aus in one piece, not so easy.

We found some glorious old alms houses, and Bethy posed for a shot with them. Funny to think these would now be worth a mint, and well outside of the price range of most mortals. Outside the alms houses were two of the biggest, ugliest, mastiffs I’d ever encountered, they had what can only be described as “demon eyes.” They were accompanied by two of the shortest, ugliest, owners I’ve ever met. The dogs were friendly, affectionate, and funny, and slobbered all over Bethy. I think the owners wanted to too.

We drove on. I had long wished to visit Porth Wenn, real name Port Isaac, the setting for “Doc Martin” and “Saving Grace.” Both of which I am a huge fan of. Yes me, big roughty toughty Taff, is a “Doc Martin” fan, I’m full of surprises me, don’t ever think I’m not. I was neither surprised nor disappointed to find that at first glance Porth Wenn looks nowt like it does on TV. However we did spot Bert Large’s van at the car park, which cheered me no end for some strange reason. We took the steep hill down into town. The school in the TV series is now a restaurant, and the chemist’s a souvenir (tat) shop. We made our way through the village, playing “spot the famous bit”, then made our way up to the Doctor’s House itself. I got a shot of Bethy and Lee-Anne outside it. Bethy took a shot of me and Lee-Anne outside it.

Having exhausted all our options for the Doctors house* we strolled back to the car park. It would have been nice to stay in “Porth Wenn” and have a pint, or a meal even, but we were still full of fish and chips.

Port Issac harbour is lovely in itself, but as it was again drizzling and still blowing a hooly, we didn’t stay long. On the short drive back them two fell asleep, leaving me to contemplate the meaning of Cornwall.

*We didn’t know at this point that it is now a holiday let, we MUST stay there!

 

Friday 6/1/12

I woke to the horrible realisation that this was our last day in Sennen, it felt very sad. To cheer myself up I took yet another walk to Sennen watch. This didn’t help one bit. We packed our cases as best we could. I talked the girls into coming for a walk with me, just a short one. We brought our postcards  and sent them from Sennen post office. They didn’t arrive for weeks, not until we’d already been back for a few days in the case of one. Lee-Anne still thinks the woman at the post office hoarded them.

We strolled into Lands End and decided to have a cuppa there. The hotel was dead quiet, and so we got window seats overlooking the Longships.  What with the weather, the company, and the view, this was just a  lovely place to be. Afterwards I took the girls along the footpath to Sennen watch, stopping off at Maen Castle and finishing where the Mulhiem was wrecked. On the way back we were marvelling at how many  houses overlooking the cove  are being knocked down, then rebuilt in grandiose style. Fair play, if I had enough money I’d have one too.

Once  back we rang our tenants, Frank and Nickie, and arranged to pop around. It was great to meet them, truly delightful people. They  were very happy to be living in our place, and who can blame them? This bodes well for us. Frank and Nickie had filled to bursting point our little house with all sorts of lovely furniture and decoration, it looks fantastic, if a bit of a squeeze to get through.  Being sat there I was so glad of all the decorative changes they had made, as you’d have needed a crowbar to shift me if I’d got any more homesick. We talked over what needs doing to the house, and how we should organise getting it done, I agreed to let Fleur know what we had decided, and we parted with good feelings on both sides. (I hope!)

We also popped in next door to catch up with our friends Pete and Sara, they were both hale and well, their house is now a model for what we would do to ours if we were living there. Nice to catch up on Trevilley gossip, and the exploits of “the barn man”, a curious character who lived in the close, and who I never liked. But it would seem he’s calmed down some since getting wed. It was grand to catch up with Pete and Sara, but onwards, ever onwards.  We did knock at the farmhouse to try to catch up with Aidan or Patrick, but no one was in, or at least no one was answering.

That evening would be our last chance to hit “The First and Last” for some years, so we took it eagerly. We met up with Howard and Janet there, and had a bite to eat. Later in the evening we were joined by another couple  of old friends, Graham and Vanessa Rowe. Graham’s a great bloke who I’m indebted to.  He informed me that our sewerage system, which drains via one of his fields, needed deepening. Shit. Literally. His brother-in-law has set up as a contractor, and Graham agreed to do all the arrangements to get it fixed, as long as I paid for it, which I was more than happy to do. Having someone Graham knows do the work is very reassuring.

No matter how much I prevaricated and ordered rounds of drinks in, the bar people eventually wanted to go to bed, and chucked us out. Saying fond sad farewells we strolled through the drizzle back to our digs.