Christmas Day

Christmas dinner does not get much better than this: smoked salmon rolls washed down with mulled wine on top of Chapel Carn Brea (198m): the first and last hill in Cornwall and Great Britain. We also 'climbed' Bartine castle (224m), the most westerly trig point on the mainland.  

For those of you stuck in snow drifts, Penwith is the green bit on the BBC weather map. In this picture you will see that there is no snow on the ground and the very blue things behind are the sky and sea.

More Christmas pictures here.

The Annual Review 2010

The year began with one of us clutching his bus pass and with snow on the garden where a new stone griffin had arrived to guard the house in celebration of the arrival of our first grandchild, Olly. Before long we would be welcoming another descendant and, to celebrate, an additional stone griffin.

Just when we thought we had got our house sorted out and were looking forward to an ordered existence, things suddenly changed. Wyl and Emma welcomed Alana in February. Between them, she and Olly have since managed to fill the house with high chairs, camping cots, buggies and toys. The two of them will rather dominate this report as they have our thoughts and activities throughout the year. 

Olly initially seemed impressed by his new cousin but was not sure that she was much fun as a playmate.

He was more interested in bonding with his look-alike uncle Peter with whom he seems to share a love of sports cars.

He was able to meet his great-grandparents when they visited in the spring, allowing us to take a photograph of four generations together. 

By now, he was growing up enough to keep Nick from his 17th century studies which had just yielded yet another MA.

The summer stretched out, long and hot, just as it ‘always does’ in Cornwall, and so we made the most of it: Kate’s tutor group enjoyed a barbecue in the garden, although we struggled to complete a risk assessment for 18 teenage girls; we enjoyed a sleepover in the Museum with thirty 11 year old girls; we built ourselves a small vegetable patch, revelling in the fiendishly expensive lettuces that resulted; we visited beaches where Olly discovered the joy of sand and (sea)water play; and we welcomed guests from far-off England.

Emma, Wyl and Alana enjoying the sun in the garden.

We took time out for a holiday of our own in July, visiting Krakow, walking in the Tatra mountains which are part of the Carpathians between Poland and Slovakia, and travelling in Slovakia. Naturally we took the tatras for Cornwall.

This was Kate’s first visit to the country and she had a chance to see why I so enjoy it so much. If you are passing the world heritage site of Spiš castle do not fail to look out the friendly spermophiles who entertained us during our picnic there.

The rest of the summer was taken up enjoying more visits from the junior branches, attending a performance of Don Giovanni, visiting Wales, watching the Red Arrows or, bizarrely, narrating a re-enactment of the Battle of the Little Bighorn performed on water. As always, there was not enough sailing.

We flew to Switzerland for a happy family wedding of my nephew Caspar to Karine in October; and to Edinburgh to celebrate the significant birthday of Kate’s brother Patrick in November. The latter was a chance to get the whole team together at a very sparkly ceilidh.

Work has been stretching for both of us this year, working full time as we do. We soldier on, however, and are showing few signs of retirement despite rumours circulating to the contrary.

Claire has returned to work after her maternity leave while Emma is still at home with Alana. Having finished his MBA, Peter spent much of the autumn commuting between Johannesburg, where he was passing on his new-found knowledge in training entrepreneurs, and his home with Rebeka in trendy Parsons Green.

We make no apologies for leaving you with smiles from the two people who have brought us such joy this year. Their baby life jackets await them.

Mylor Bridge has camping cots, high chairs, toys and a warm welcome whenever you feel the need for a break.

Kate and Jonathan

Dollie Takes Charge

There can be few more satisfying books to find in a holiday cottage than Dollie Takes Charge. It has been our constant companion for many weeks of summer jollity and I was pleased to find that she is still serving her original useful purpose when I visited today. They tell us that a novel should be judged by its ability to grab you from the first moment and there can be few greater openings than this:

"I wonder?" Dollie said.
 And as she said it, all her dimples showed.
There was no one to look at her, as she sat bunched in what she called "the window box" of her own private den beneath the gable. If there had been, they would most likely have guessed Dollie as "sixteen - a rather young sixteen." She wore an old grey ulster, into which she had slipped for warmth; the day was mid-December, and though her "den" possessed a stove, Dollie was spairing in her use of it. Over her shoulder fell a glorious rope of plaited golden hair, which she was wont to "let down for a rest," at times of safe seclusion like the present.

With what style Queenie Scott Hopper introduces us to her heroine; with what economy of phrasing; with what idosynchratic punctuation: one is left to wonder what the Booker judges would make of such prose if they were faced with it today. Truly a masterpiece. Eat your heart out Charles Dickens.

Prussia Cove

Another walk on the cliff top: this time at Prussia Cove on a bitterly cold Sunday morning when snow was lying in the fields on the way to Helston and icicles hung off the cliff face.

But we had a warm welcome and lunch from the tenants of Seaview after a short visit to the Victoria in Perranuthnoe.

Autumn walks

Autumn is a time for taking walks at weekends, when it is not raining that is. In almost successive weekends we have 'done' Gurnard's Head, Carn Brae and finally St Agnes Head. Each was bracing - no need for the old adage about not having it a degree warmer - and thankfully free of holidaymakers or, indeed, of other people.

It was hard to beat today's walk: a trip to Homebase, a walk along a stunning cliff path, a pub and a quick visit to Sainsbury's on the way home.

Click here for the Autumn photo album

Parental inspection

It was very good to see the most senior members of the family this weekend and to reminisce about life in the Mediterranean. They looked hale and hearty and were keen to accompany me on a walk around the town. 

Edinburgh clan gathering

A gathering in Edinburgh to celebrate 'Uncle Patrick's' important birthday brings nineteen of the Roberts/Tyler relations together for a ceilidh with half the Gordon clan.

Here is our team (minus two who were too young to attend). The instructions were to wear 'sparkly' and guess who won hands-down for his e-bay shirt.

Edinburgh never disappoints. More photos here - ignore the first 25 if you just want the party pictures.

An October walk

A beautiful October day allows us to get out to 'real' Cornwall, out of sight of any modern elements in the landscape. The discovery of a new fogou - well, new to us - at Porthmeor and a walk along to Gurnard's Head is sheer heaven. The sea is flat calm, the sun is hot and our lungs are filled with fresh air.

Harvest festival

We are sure that you are both getting very bored of apples partly because it has been a bumper crop for everyone this year but also because we have been going on and on about our own harvest. Here is the last apple picture of the year: the windfalls from our mature little tree collected over two days last weekend.

Enjoy ... as we did the apples.

Marooned

A 5.7m high tide caused a small amount of confusion this week especially as it occurred round about commuting time. We were cut off for about half an hour each time.

A neighbour's dog and various small children enjoyed it.

Sailing at last

The tide was high, the sun was (almost) out, the wind was light. At last we were able to get out on the water in Curlew of Mylor for a picnic off lighthouse beach. The combination of new sails and a well-adjusted centreplate means that she handled like a proper boat at last.

The winter lay-up is not far off.

See more here

A Swiss weekend

A wonderfully sunny weekend in Switzerland to celebrate Caspar and Karine's weddding outside Neuchatel.

So many images crowd the mind: travelling in a boat on Lac Leman; the high quality of hospitality; the wedding and riotous reception; the Ecole Hotelier de Lausanne (and Professeur Angela Fall); a great niece and nephew; and the chalet looking out towards Mont Blanc. See more images here

September

Autumn is beginning to creep in. The weather remains gentle with occasionally stunning still warm days. Across the back field we see a double rainbow lighting up the remnants of the potato crop.

While in the garden, the Virginia Creeper on the garage is beginning to turn a vibrant red as a backdrop to a birthday present bird table (one family of sparrows raised this year).

Table cloth

One must be selective about one's table cloths. Here, two members of the clan celebrate the arrival of a red  one, newly arrived from the same shop in George (RSA) as a blue one purchased on a gap year visit thirteen years earlier.

It is just as well we do not get through too many of them as the cost would be astronomic.

Gwern Offeriaid

Another wonderful weekend in deepest Wales where bonfires need building, paths making and barbecue areas preparing. Good company and conversations ranging over B&Bs, greeting guests on arrival, spirits of places (and fillets of plaice), vowels and phonics (Welsh excluded), al fresco dining; accompanied by a highly competitive game of snooker and a wonderful evening of chamber music made this another memorable visit.

Given our ages, refreshment takes the form of cake, roasted marshmallows and bucks fizz by the fireside. Ah, such decadence!  See more here.

Harvest festival

Returning from a wonderful weekend in North Wales ... we drove across the middle of the Principality in bright sunshine. The roads were empty and the hills were alive with the sound of maa-ing. We emerged into civilisation at Tretower and Crickhowell before crossing into England. We wondered why anyone thinks it ever rains there.

Eventually we returned to the Duchy where we found a positive harvest of vegetables awaiting us. Some people put such things into local village competitions but we will just settle in for healthy meal of ... hmmm! ... I hope we can find some serious protein somewhere.

Krakow and Slovakia holiday

A fabulous two weeks in Central Europe with more heat than anyone could ask for.

Krakow: packed with tourists enjoying evening entertainment and cafe culture but nothing can destroy the wonder of that city.

The Tatra mountains with a bunch of good friends: wonderful scenery and some tough walking over rocky terrain but worth every drop of sweat. (Next time I see travel notes that say 'take a thick jacket as walking in mountains can be cold', remind me to ignore it). The city of Poprad haunts you in the same way as does Didcot power station on the Ridgeway.

Levoca: to see the works of Master Paul, Gothic sculptor, and Spis castle (World Heritage Sites)

Piestany: for a mud wrap to put right the damage caused by the walk.

Bratislava: to enjoy the city and see friends.

The rain in Cornwall is soft, barely visible and yet uniquely comforting after all the heat.

See the link for photos.

Griffin

One does not wish to become obsessed about such things, but this lonely fellow was snapped by a chum who stayed at a B&B just outside Ipswich. She seems a very unhappy girl who reminds me of a furry four-footed black and white creature when she had been caught trying to eat a chicken bone. Just look at those swept-back ears indicative of an animal that knows it is in trouble.

Why on earth did they not turn her round 90 degrees clockwise so that she could keep guard properly instead of resting her head on the red brick wall?

Sadly the chum did not think to rescue her so that she could come and live with the Cornish community who, since you ask, are doing very well and ensuring that no hawkers or miscreants get into the garden.

Frere Jacques

Talking of Estonians, I was also able to add another language to my collection of European versions of the well-known Frere Jacques. I stumbled over this by accident many years ago at a multi-national barbecue and have been collecting ever since. I was quite pleased with myself until I looked on Wikipedia where the possible origins of the song are suggested. If it is a taunt at Martin Luther then this might explain why protestant England does not have a version in its own language. Alternatively it could be a British stiff-upper lip not wishing to suggest that Brother Jack is in any way sleeping longer than he should.

Wikipedia also has many different versions with translations, easily out-scoring my collection. The range must put it up there just behind Happy Birthday as one of the most ubiquitous tunes in the world.

Although the thrust is the same in most languages - someone sleeping when the bells are ringing - the person varies between John/Jacob and Martin, and the clocks or bells make a charming variety of sounds, like French farm animals. The Estonian version, to complete the loop, has smiths.

I shall carry on collecting ...

The Origins of English

I was chatting late at night on a stalled train with my favourite Estonian friend - actually my only Estonian friend - discussing our languages. As with many smaller European peoples who were for years treated as serfs, her language had only been codified in the 19th century. 'When was yours developed?' she asked. I tried to explain and dredged my memory for Chaucer's Prologue. This set me thinking.

It would be bold to say that Beowulf (between 8th and 11th century) was the moment as it hardly looks or sounds like English:
Hwæt! We Gardena in geardagum,
þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon,
hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon.
... which may mean something like:
Lo, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!

Chaucer's Canterbury Tales (14th century), on the other hand, is familiar to anyone who did GCE 'O' Level English and can surely be claimed as something of a defining moment for such discussions:
Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

... and is a joy in Coghill's translation.
When in April the sweet showers fall
And pierce the drought of March to root, and all
The veins are bathed in liquor of such power
As brings about the engendering of the flower,

She had, she thought, seen a Shakespeare (16/17th century) play in translation. I still find it quite incredible than anyone can translate his plays which are undeniably English. Just slip this into Estonian, would you:
To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd.   

Where the late 19th century romantics codified these European languages; L'udovit Stur did it for Slovak. We had Dr Samuel Johnson in the 18th. Should we look to him as the defining moment? How does one answer such questions fairly and without boasting about the Bard? It would be like a German not mentioning Bach when talking of music.

Nature's wonder

Millennia have passed. In deepest jungles genes have been exchanged; the fight for survival has taken its course and each generation has been better fitted to survive than the last (fundamentalists look away now). Insects and birds have done their job under the watchful gaze of the blind watchmaker until something perfect and balanced has emerged: the humble cheeseplant.

Man arrives and takes the humble plant into captivity, constraining her in pots which are never the right size, sticking individuals into the corners of cafeterias, foyers, staircases, lobbies, offices, sitting rooms and then treating them as pieces of furniture, giving them no food, no water, no care. Our neglected hero magically exists - growing would be too strong a word - for ever reaching out to any light and following nature's instinct to reach for the sky. As she grows we tie her to a stake and wrap her tendrils around a dead branch to prevent her reaching out too far. Another escape foiled.

If plants ever do come alive it will not be triffids but the humble cheeseplant, or its companion ficus or ivy, that we torture as we do, reaching out to return to those jungle homes so far away. What is the mysterious attraction of such plants and was this really what evolution was all for?

Raised beds

With the help of a son-in-law, a new vegetable bed has been established at the back of the house. Vast sums have been spent on wood, on new topsoil - 20 wheelbarrow's worth - on plants, and on netting to keep the birds off. 'I should just buy the vegetables in the village shop' said a friendly but unhelpful local friend. He misunderstands this former urban-dweller's drive to return to the land and pretend for a few moments that, when the whole system breaks down, he will be able to feed his family.

If you visit in July then be warned: it will be lettuces with every meal.

Alana comes to stay

The newest member of the family has come to stay over the May bank holiday. A bright blue-eyed face simply smiles and smiles ... so far.

After Easter

A sudden burst of fine weather cheers up the garden and gets us all out in the open air. Some head for the beach, others get down to work in the garden or play with small boys who seem to need constant entertainment. 

One triumph is to stop playing, digging and mowing long enough to get a photo of four generations together in one place at one time.

Easter weekend

The long weekend brings the chance for some more bonding with the first grandchild. There is something faintly familiar about his looks and a comparison is made with his uncle at a similar age. In these photos, only the identity of the boy has changed.

We ought to add that his clever father has just picked up yet another MA.

Another new griffin

The family of griffins guarding the garden is growing at much the same rate as the human family. The larger, and senior, griffin arrived just after Christmas from a garden centre near Street in Somerset while its younger companion arrived recently from a garden centre in Sherborne. I do not know what it is about that part of the world: perhaps they are breeding in the area. More information please.

The younger has taken up residence by the decking at the side of the house, keeping a sharp eye on anyone attempting to attack the rhubarb while hiding behind a phlomis.

A flying welcome

A flying visit allows me personally to meet my newest girlfriend who now weighs in at nearly 6 lbs, is still not officially 'born'. She takes no notice of her grandfather and sleeps on my lap, twitching and smiling as she dreams of rounding a  buoy.

Flowers start to appear

After a cold winter and a prolonged period without any rain, it finally looks as though spring may be arriving. Cornwall, we are reliably informed, is behind the rest of the country and Mylor Bridge is behind the rest of Cornwall. The daffodils are at last coming out and those harbingers of colourful spring, the camellias, are bursting into sadly short-lived flowers. The daphne has almost been and gone.

At last we can get out into the garden without wearing thermals and set to work tidying up the twigs and leaves that have survived the winter.

See the link for more pictures

Welcome Alana

What could be more delightful than welcoming the latest member of the family into the world? Arriving early, lying with her hand near her head, and sleeping like a log: just as her mother did so many years ago.

I have six years to build her first boat. Then she will be able to have races with her big cousin.

Is this spring I see before me?

Spring does not burst into life, certainly not after the cold spell we have had this year, but there comes a time when one can feel that spring will come: when the first flowers appear. Snowdrops are evident in hidden corners and yesterday we saw the first wild daffodil near Greatwood.

As always, our garden is a bit behind others in the neighbourhood and the daffodils are little more than green stalks. However, the camelias are all in bud and one has had the bravery of opening up to greet the longer days and some bright sun. A quick inspection suggests that winter has not wreaked the havoc it did last year when we lost many different plants to the cold. Almost everything looks as if it may have made it through.

There will be more cold before we can finally wave goodbye to winter but it will be a minor irritant. Once the camelias are in flower it is downhill all the way. Damn! It also means we have to start weeding.

Gardening has started

A new apple chree arrived as a birthday present: a Cornish Aromatic. Here it is being lovingly planted at the bottom of the garden by the resident labourer. It will eventually grow to six metres or so.

A birthday weekend with friends

An 'official' birthday and and an actual one gave us the chance to spend time with old friends.

A fantastic walk from Praa Sands to the Victoria at Perranuthnoe and back on a wonderful sunny January day was only marred by a fractured leg after some mud-sliding.

A dinner performance of The Shipwrecked Daughter or the Mermaid Revealed allowed some of its authors at last to understand the intracies of the plot - or even to understand that there was a plot.

Much laughter at one birthday card ...

Don't miss the pictures on the right: Early 2010

A moral dilemma for our times

You are cleaning the interior of the car on 17 January removing large quantities of mud from Christmas walks, sweet papers, a baby's rattle, obscure CDs, 'L' plates and several bits of wrapping paper. In a dark corner you find your daughter's phone charger which she thinks she left behind at Christmas. You are embarrassed at being found out not having cleaned the car for three weeks. Do you:

• Throw it in the bin for fear that she finds out that you have not cleaned the car for three weeks?
• Hide it amongst her son's toys
• Hide it in the room she was sleeping in so that she can find it next time she comes?
• Add it to your immense collection of random chargers accumulated over the years
• Ring her and confess all?
  

The guardian of the fortress

A big welcome to the newest resident at the Towers who keeps an eye on passing hawkers and undesirables, ready at a moment's notice to leap into action and tear them limb from limb. So far he has not actually had to do anything but that is probably because the garden has been covered in snow.