Christmas Eve walk

A 'brisk' (aka freezing) walk on Chapel Porth and up to Wheal Coates is a good excuse for the cafe's wonderful croques messieurs. Wyl takes the fresh air thing to ridiculous extents.

See the Gallery for more photos.

Minor crisis averted

Staff shortages in the Museum at Christmas meant that a temporary volunteer had to be called in to help out reading The Lighthouse Keeper's Christmas Lunch to some passing children. We were all impressed by the stylish outfit.

2011 Annual Review

We spent last Christmas Day on top of Cornwall’s most westerly hill, eating our smoked salmon lunch in bright sunlight. We have continued to discover our county throughout the year and have welcomed guests large and small, from far and wide. Our ‘photo album’ is packed with pictures of blue skies and seas, of walking, paddling and crabbing expeditions, ice creams and tractors.

In April Kate satisfied her wanderlust by visiting Hong Kong with a group of girls from Truro High School; her first foray so far east. Jonathan was more conservative and in May took time out to show a Slovak and an Austrian friend around Cornwall’s gardens at their best. Their visit coincided with one of the highspots of the year for Peter at last asked Rebeka to marry him. Not one to do things the easy way, he tricked her into visiting the Minack theatre where they first met; walked her down the auditorium through soft Cornish rain to the overture of Iolanthe in which they had played the lead roles; got down on one knee and offered her a ring. Peter - who is now a director of a toys and games company - and Rebeka, a doctor, will be married in Marlow next September.

In amongst visits to and from our two lovely grandchildren we took a real holiday of our own, cycling from Vienna to Budapest. Friends and family will be surprised that we suddenly took to such an unfamiliar mode of transport but the going was easy: some might call it flat. We simply followed the Danube downstream and downhill dropping 55m in 250 km. The route took us through sleepy villages in three countries, into wonderful spas and museums and for lunch with friends in Bratislava.

Both of us continue to work full time, Kate teaching a medley of subjects – from French to 5 year olds to Latin to 15 year olds - and Jonathan doing what he can at the National Maritime Museum Cornwall. His patience is sometimes tried by people who have never experienced a recession talking about ‘issues around mosiac funding’; saying ‘that was then, this is now’; and preaching about ‘partnership’, ‘blue sky thinking’ and ‘thinking the unthinkable’. The advantage is that he can still play boats occasionally and we have done just that when the conditions have been right.

The main focus for the year was the family and we were visited regularly by our offspring and their bright, adventurous and growing children. Emma and Wyl live in Datchet – with Wyl teaching in Slough – and have a very camera-loving Alana (nearly 2) who has introduced her doting grandparents to the joys of Abney and Teal.

Claire and Nick live in Epsom and are both happily working in the public sector. Olly (now 2) is engaged in comprehensive research into the tractors and diggers of the UK which will no doubt lead to a book.

At the other end of the family, and the country, Jonathan’s parents are still going strong, propping up the local church in Suffolk. They have now met all their great-grandchildren.

We found time to indulge our love of music – regular concerts, Rusalka, Gianni Schicchi and La Boheme as well as singing a very bass pirate – sail Curlew and row a pilot gig. Jonathan was even called on to narrate a historical re-enactment to celebrate Falmouth’s 350th anniversary. The result was somewhere between a Horrible History and 1066 and All That: rather strange for a former pure physicist.

We were all looking forward to welcoming another grandchild to the family but sadly, a couple of weeks ago, Emma and Wyl lost their son Kit thirty-one weeks into the pregnancy. We are all mourning with them, confident of the future because of the love that surrounds them.

Another year is around the corner and we wish you all good fortune. Mylor Bridge continues to be open to all provided you do not mind stairgates, tractors, camping cots, a dolls’ house, coupled with wonderful Cornish skies, seas, beaches, boats, weather and a warm welcome.

Our love to all our friends. Kate and Jonathan

Christmas is coming

A wet weekend close to Christmas produces all kinds of things to do. First, you have to 'find the Christmas decorations' which means climbing into the loft, tripping over your children's precious droppings, exam papers and childhood toys, carefully categorised in crates and boxes which have never quite made their way to their owners' houses. Somewhere, in a dark corner, is a small box of obscure ornaments that one has never had the courage to throw away and which, if one did, would produce outcries from the same offspring along the lines 'but we always have the fairy on the mirror and then you forget to take it down until about Easter. It would not be the same without it.'

The imminent arrival of mobile grandchildren also an effect on our quiet ordered life. Evenings and weekends have been filled with visits to jumble sales for suitable toys, on line searches for travel cots, the installation of stair gates and fire guards, and a full health and safety assessment in the knowledge that anything movable will be moved. One is allowed a last lingering look at the television zapper as episodes of In the Night Garden and Abney and Teal are squeezed onto the digibox, taking up space for unwatched but reasonable adult viewing such as Downton Abbey and David Attenborough’s latest spectacular. The zapper will surely be hidden under cushions, beneath armchairs or lost in the doll’s house before long.

Then there are the Christmas lights. These seem to work first time which is a major step forward on the ones we bought all those years ago which just about lasted one Christmas and mysteriously lost the will to twinkle when stored in a loft. Now the challenge is to get the timer device to work the right way round and not turn the lights on at midnight and off again at teatime the following day.

Finally there is the Christmas letter which has to be cleared by three inveterate and literate editors, each of whom objects to what has been said/not said about them/their brother/sister. But for the result of that work, you will have to wait a week or so.

Confused?

I know that we are having an unusually mild autumn which is bringing some plants into bud or even flower at the 'wrong' time of year, but can one of you horticultural experts explain why an azalea has come out before our early camellias?

When you have done that, can you explain how our bulbs are going to make their ways out past this tub on the patio? It is not June, you know. 

A princess comes to stay

With oodles of help from a wonderful brother and sister-in-law, Princess May (a.k.a. Princess Mary of Teck) has been tracked down, purchased at auction, dispatched from Edinburgh and installed as a permanent resident of our home.

The original sculpture was by William Henry Tyler, great-grandfather to Kate, and was produced as an engagement present on behalf of a member of the royal family. The original, in white marble, is in Osborne House on the Isle of Wight. It appears that William Henry produced versions in bronze although it is not known how many. The wider (Tyler) family now posesses four: two in bronze and two in porcelain.

She stands about 30cm tall including her marble stand and is signed by the artist. She joins great-grandmother Isabella (as Hesitation) in our collection of William Henry's work. If you come across a full-size version of his sculptures of W.G.Grace - the original is in Lord's - or Cecil Rhodes, either of which would fill most of the sitting room, then do let us know.

The griffins live in the garden.

A blonde bombshell

The house is taken over by a little blonde bombshell - all curls, big eyes and long eyelashes - who paddles around the house moving anything movable, completely unconcerned at visiting strangers and devoted to Pock Pocks and Piplings (get with you it you lot). No biscuit is safe.

October sunshine

A sudden burst of gloriously hot, sunny weather coupled to a spring tide gives us the chance to get a last gentle sail and take Curlew around for her winter lay-up.

September walks

So excited were we with our latest addition that we have been off the radar for a few weeks. Fresh air has been taken: at Kennal Vale on a damp day and  the Lizard in a Near Gale. No cobwebs are left undisturbed.

New arrival

After a very formal and dignified ceremony on a blustery day we can at last tell which way the wind is blowing. The added value is that malicious birds will be kept in check by our well-placed look-out. Special thanks to George and Derryth for their massive contributions.

Summer invasion 2

The summer continues with even more guests. They range from the small but very mobile, via his parents, to his 'wicked' uncle and the Daughter-in-Law Elect.

Despite what you read on the Met Office site, it did not rain continuously, was not cold and did not involve huddling in corners on frozen beaches wondering whether it might be a degree warmer.

It did involve lots of tractors, diggers, visitor attractions and - two new discoveries for one member of the party  - ice creams and blackberries.

New boat?

Rumours that we have bought a new boat are unfounded.

Summer invasion 1

The summer invasion starts with some young people who have real personalities and lots of charm, doing the sorts of things children do in Cornwall. See below or here.

Cycling the Danube

Two old folks who should know better have done it again. This year's activity holiday took us by bicycle from the banks of the Donau in Vienna and the Dunai in Bratislava to the Moson Duna and then Duna in Budapest. Some 413km (258 miles) according to the on-bike odometers.

The going, much of it along the tops of flood defence dykes, was not what one could call hilly: it made Norfolk look mountainous and was ideal for people who just wanted to ride, look into others' gardens, stop and admire the scenery, visit spas and breathe. You had to like a scenery of sunflowers, sweetcorn and wheat. The sweetcorn harvest made the Hungarian national news but in what context we could not quite translate.

We started with a day in Vienna, visiting the old city, the Mozart house, the Kunsthistoriches Museum to admire half the 5thC Szilágysomlyó gold and generally admiring the Secessionist architecture. Then we set off. In summary:

• Day 1: we followed the river to Petronel-Carnuntum, where a roman villa or two have been artfully reconstructed and where gladiators were playing in an amphitheatre
• Day 2: through Hainburg and into Slovakia for lunch with chums in Bratislava; then on to Halaszi in Hungary, following the Moson Duna leg of the river
• Day 3: a brief stop for some health-giving relaxation at the Lipot spa (36 - 38 degrees of sheer bliss) and on to the town of Gyor
• Day 4: mostly along roads to Tata, a charming small historic town set beside a lake where we walked around a lake in the 'English Park'
• Day 5: an early train ride to Komarno in Slovakia to rejoin the main river and then along the north bank to Sturovo where we crossed back into Hungary and stayed the night at Esztergom with its over-large late 19thC basilica
• Day 6: the final leg using three ferries, down round the Danube bend and between some hills until we emerged in the Great Hungarian Plain and greeted Buda and Pest. Yippee!

A full day in Budapest allowed us to visit the Szechenyi spa to soothe our limbs, visit the National Museum to see the other half of the Szilágysomlyó treasure, cross the 'Marlow' chain bridge to Buda castle and Palace and have a final goulash before flying home.

There is more about the treasure on the Kunsthistorisches site and our pictures are on Picasa.

Picnic on the Helford

It does not get much better than a bright sunny day and a force 2 SE wind to take you over to the Helford, past moored tankers and through some gigantic waves; a picnic off Porth Saxon and then home again on one tack, sailing all the way back up the creek. Life is tough at times.

No gardening, no painting, no car-washing, no work ...




Although, as she read her Style magazine, Mrs G spotted that they had already got a picture of us on the back page. Now, let's see: which is the British couple enjoying British sunshine?

Fal River Walk

We achieved an ambition during the Fal River Festival: to walk around the Fal. Thanks to those helpful chappies and their ferries, we were able to walk around the Carrick Roads, bridging the creeks and rivers by boat. Or, we would have done if we had actually done the whole walk but it did seem awfully silly to drive all the way to Falmouth only to walk back on paths we have walked many times, past our own house. We therefore joined it from home at a sensible time to catch the next ferry.

It was a great walk - the full distance being 15 miles - which was conducted by some as though it were actually a race. One giant went past at a run, in his heavy walking boots, while others passed and re-passed each other with barely a grunt of recognition. This was more endurance, rather than social, event.

The moral of this picture, which appeared in the West Briton, is 'do not make silly gestures in the hope that the photographer will not use the image, particularly when the picture editor knows your name.' Keen observers will notice that Mrs G is the statutory couple of paces behind, far too embarrassed to admit any connections with the idiot in front.

Bicycle ride

The Bissoe Trail now has an extension past Twelveheads which takes you over to a wonderful circuit at the Great Flat Lode between Camborne and Redruth. But first you have to negotiate the black hole of Carharrack where the signposting is erratic and the hills unfairly steep (no comment on the map reader of course).

It was a glorious day today with sun and cloud and only a momenary spit of rain: just the day for a gentle cycle ride. We hitched on the new bike rack, hired another bike at Bissoe and set off.

We left Carharrack on a marked route which was not the right one as its gradient matched the south col.

Three hours later we had a puncture. We rested in a mine house from a brief shower of rain before starting out again. Half an hour later a minor crash dented an elbow and dug a few holes in a hand but no bones broken. 

The landscape was stunning: the best of unknown Cornwall with green valleys interspersed with engine houses and mine tailings. Wheal Francis - see photo - more resembled a small romanesque cathedral than a place of industry.

We even ran into a friend on a horse who kindly directed us to the top of Carn Marth, another of the High Spots of Cornwall and well worth the effort on a clear day with views as far as Trevose, Pendennis Castle and something which just could be St Ives.

Finally, exhausted after five hours in the saddle, we made our way down hill - it really is down hill - back to Bissoe and home for a hot bath.

In a few week's time we will be cycling on holiday and today's length will merely be a light Day 1 amble. But at least they do not have Carharrack in Central Europe; we hope.

Engagement!!

If the smiles don't tell you, then Rebeka's left hand might give you a hint. A really romantic proposal at a rain-swept Minack where they met introduces a daughter-in-law-elect to the family; properly; at last; hooray.

Love and best wishes to Peter and Rebs pour in all evening.

Easter approaches

As Easter approaches the swallows arrive to make the most of the Cornish sun. The first wave brings Olly who insists that the 'guck' is in pristine condition before his cousin arrives. Out comes a rag and he sets to work. One day he will understand the difference between a duck and a fine, distinguished griffin.

More photos here

Poor Pandora

Our (almost) local pub is no more after a vicious fire. Rebuild (for the second time), is the story but perish the thought that we might actually be able to stand at the bar.

Family tradition has it that a distant grandfather, when he was the owner, was the person who started the story that it was a 300 year old smuggler's haunt; a story which probably has no foundation in fact. A few years ago boat trips from St Mawes advertised trips to the '700 year old' Pandora Inn.

Where will we sail to on a summer's evening? More photos here.

Spring is springing

The sun has come out and, after a dry week, the garden is beginning to look as though it is alive. Our pots of bulbs are all in flower and there are buds on some of the shrubs that have survived the winter. Despite the cold, the losses do not look as bad as last year although the wind has seared the extremeties of several shrubs.

The 'new project' for spring is a new bed under the shadow of the merry hedge: extending the Cornish bed to give the smaller griffin something to look at and guard from marauding children.

More pictures here

Daphne

Dear Daphne, she is so loyal and is always first into bloom in the spring. Quite what she is doing in flower in February is anyone's guess, especially as she lives on the bottom terrace alongside the windy gully. We suspect that her sister on the top terrace has not made it through the winter. Here sister on the chestnut terrace, meanwhile, is showing no sign of life.

Party time

It was someone's birthday - no more special than any other - and so we celebrated with a party. Here we are towards its end, doing what one does at a party.

Not bad for, what are we, something over forty isn't it?

Farewell Aunt Nornie?

Today we bought a new colander, replacing the one that has travelled with us for nearly 35 years which, having lost one handle, is finally heading off to the re-cycling station. This is a deeply sensitive moment for the old one (shown here alongside its sparkling replacement) was inherited from gentle Great Aunt Nornie (Nora Edkins nee Tweedy) when we took over her flat and all its effects as impoverished newly weds in 1977. I think we finally finished up the powdered mustard a couple of years ago.

This was the same Great Aunt who walked out of her care home in Kent and made her way to the door of her niece's house in Liverpool in her bedroom slippers and with not a penny to her name 'because she wanted to be near her'.

We are pondering whether we have any other objects in regular use from the same period.  Had we not had a few throw-outs since then, we could probably produce the original bill of sale from Dickins and Jones which we suspected was her favourite store.

In another age, we would take the old one to the tinker who would no doubt rivet on another handle to see us through the next 35 years. Suggestions as to how we should use it around the house or garden would be welcomed.

PS: Aunt Nornie and her great niece shared a birthday (23 January). The digital factor of their ages was the same. When one was 7 the other was 61 (6+1=7).

New year's eve

The end of the year produced the usual spate of murders at Trevellan Towers. This time it was the sad loss of Mr Billy Bonka, that well-known chocolate manufacturer. One of this motley crew done it but whether it was the arnachist-favouring, artistic marchioness; the ruthless Belgian chocolate giant who was one of her former lovers; the Oxford-educated archaeologist expert on the Aztecs who had been having an affair with Mr Bonka; the psycho-analyst who turned out to be Mr Bonka's long-lost son; the famous pugilist from Noo York or the glamorous lady novelist who was another of his conquests; only we know. All that was needed was the application of zee leetle grey cells.

More photos here