Porthlevan

5th August 2020

18th July 2020

Porthlevan

It's misty this morning, so we won't be rushing off anywhere too soon. Time to catch up with journal and Peter gets his guitar out.

The wind whirled a symphony through the awning during the night, keeping me awake , so I'm happy with the slow start.

And, I'm really miffed that there seem to be no churches open in this part of the world, but we do get Mass online. We miss our usual routine of making visits to churches and getting Holy Mass as often as possible. It's all a little surreal and a bit disturbing that we can't go into churches. We manage our time of prayer every morning , though. 

Soon the sun shines and the sea in Falmouth Bay glints like a mirror. The campers who obstructed our view have now left and we get to enjoy it without moving while eating breakfast.

 

Today we join Jo, Paul and some of his family at  Porthlevan Harbour, calling at a big Tesco's first as we need some supplies. Going to any supermarket just now is not easy, with the queuing and everything. We wait at least ten minutes to actually get into the store, after which the shopping  takes only five minutes, but then we have to queue again, another fifteen minutes to get to the till.

Porthlevan is a typical Cornish fishing village, with boats in the small harbour, very pretty. 

Paul takes Molly for a boat ride, no not in the harbour, but in a lake, on a large swanboat 

While they're gone we take a stroll around the village, following the small cottages up the cliff path. Looking out to sea from here I am overcome with gratitude for my life, my family and especially my husband. I slip my hand into his and squeeze gently. Without even breaking the flow of his story he reciprocates.

Back at the harbour we sit on the wall we sit and chat. Over the next hour or so there are little purchases at the quaint shops lining the 

round the rest of us sit on the wall and chat, eat Cornish pasties, cake fudge and  ice cream..

In the evening we find a small cove Pordhu, with a beach , so Molly can go for a swim. She loves the water that girl. Raphie finds a stream that runs into the sea . He and George, the dog, run in and out of this shallow water , both delighted to be allowed to scamper freely. 

The day comes to and end. It's been a good one , and before setting off for the campsite,  because the camper is nestled in a lovely area in the dunes we stay and eat dinner here, left over chilli, I think. 

Falmouth

3rd August 2020

16th July 2020

Falmouth

I have to say I'm not sorry to be leaving Perranporth today. Not saying I haven't loved it, but can't wait to get to the south coast and explore the small coves and fishing villages. 

After breakfast and prayer, we pack up the awning - in the wind. We need to get used to our awning, which we completely under utilised on maiden voyage. As We pack it away, I try to think how we can use it better. For instance, a table and chairs and storage boxes with extra items in to make the holiday easier ( not sure what they might be). We'd have to curtail the wild camping, which we love to do. Anyway, lots of food for thought. 

 We're not hurried, although we do, theoretically have to be off the campsite by 11.00 am or was it ten? No matter.

We meet Jo at the gate an say our goodbyes, them off in the direction of Mullion and us heading towards Falmouth. 

"I'll text you. We can still meet up. WE won't be that far from each other ." We hug. We get funny looks from other campers wandering into the shop. Bloody corona virus, giving people the freedom to judge how each other behaves. Somewhere along the way I feel freedoms have been lost.

Our next campsite are insisting we have the correct amount of cash in a sealed envelope ready to hand over to them. Another result of Covid times. It means we have to work out how where we get it. 

Ah, that's the answer, go buy some petrol, we need some anyway and all petrol stations have ATMs, don't they? That'll be a no. Now we have petrol but no cash.

However, we don't actually need it till tomorrow. We will find cash later when we find the shops. Tonight we'll be wild camping. 

As we drive towards Falmouth the view of the river and boats catch my eye and I wonder just where will we be tonight. 

I ask the Lord to help us  find somewhere without too much difficulty.

Oh my word, we love the picture before us.

We park a mile or so outside the town (which we din't know at the time),  next to the River Fal and feast our eyes on the loveliness as we near the harbour, the deepest natural harbour in Western Europe, apparently. 

We slow or stop every now and then to take it all in. Peter particularly likes the boats , and there are so many of them. 

The town is quaint, with narrow streets.

Fortunately the high street is blocked to traffic between the hours of 11.00 am and 16.00 pm, which is just as well with so many people visiting. It looks as if it's part of their safety in this pandemic time. 

But even with no cars it's difficult to keep distanced from others especially when some, mostly the young, I have to admit, don't give a fig.

The place is buzzing, definitely lots of holiday makers here. We find seats on the quay and I go and buy chips, one portion for us to share - £2.50. They were nice but I'm not sure they were worth that much. I'm trying to be more receptive to these spontaneous moments that my lovely hubby likes so much.

Getting over my reluctance to spend when we don't need to and just for the joy of it is still alien to me.

I'm hoping it will get less painful with time.

Taking a look at the parking on the quay, it looks as if we could possibly park here for the night. £1.50 after 5.0 o'clock and free from midnight till 9.00 am. There is nothing to say we can't stay for the night, but later we discover that all council car parks have a "no sleeping in your vehicle" policy. Shame, it would have been great to wake up in front of the harbour.

We find a terrific place in the end, right on the coast road out of Falmouth. Others are  already parked up and we think we've found the spot listed in park4night, though not sure.

After eating dinner earlier, sausages with all the left over salad, we're now ready to set up for the night, going incognito as Peter doesn't want us to look as if we're camping. To hide we have to put a screen, the purple blanket,  between the back and the front chairs, helping to make us look less suspicious. This , unfortunately has the disadvantage of making the inside of the camper hot, especially as we obviously don't have the top up.

We go to bed early and spend a long time listening to the conversations of the many passers by. Will we be moved on, we wonder.

  

Easter 2019 , 2020

15th April 2020

A bit of a Ramble

Life looks very different today than it did this time last year.

In April 2019 we visited my grandson in Brosely in Shropshire, wild camping for two nights in a car park near where they live and spending one night safely parked up in a campsite with static gipsy caravans and tent pods.
Mr McCarthy, the big, burly manager,  told us the site  didn't take camper vans. I had dragged him away from his dinner, some of which, probably bolognese, still stained his chin.
"Please," I looked him in the eyes, "we just need somewhere safe to park up."
 I offered him  £15 -  a little less than the going rate - and said we'd  be off  early in the morning. He looked us up and down, making me aware of my need for a change of clothes and a good hair wash. He  obviously  felt sorry for us and  let us pull up on some hard standing near the toilet block, a welcome bonus for  us. We filled up the water tank,  had hot showers and brought some hot water back to the camper to give it a bit of a clean. We had the best night sleep we'd had for weeks.
What a relief, especially after Ryan had informed us that wild camping was definitely illegal in their area. Apparently there are more than enough sites to accommodate campers.
The three days we had with them were punctuated with some special moments.
Walking with them all  in the woods, running with great grandchildren, Rose and Robin , hiding behind trees,making dens round same trees with sticks that we'd all collected,  feeding the ducks by the river - never mind that we were getting wet in the drizzle and  going to a cafe in Ironbridge.


                         



 I was able to catch up with both my grandson and my lovely granddaughter in law ( if that is, indeed, a thing). We chatted away, sharing many stories of mum moments and life's ups and downs, we laughed as we realised that not much changes between the generations.
We ate with them, went to Church ( Palm Sunday) with them and when it was time to go I hugged them tight, with an ache in my chest, gulping back tears that wanted to burst through my defenses. It made it even more difficult when little Rose didn't want to say goodbye to us either. I knew it would be another year or more before we would see them again.
The trip to Brosely was the homeward leg of a much longer journey. Before that we'd been to Northumberland to visit my cousin who had cancer. It was more than twenty years since I'd last made my way to Wooler. I'd forgotten how beautiful and peaceful it was. And the sheep , everywhere!
We even made  it to Edinburgh for a night, camping just outside the city and  to Lowfell near Newcastle, where my aunt lives.  I caught up with some cousins and some of their children. Why do I always leave it so long?
But the next stop after Shropshire was  Oxford to spend a few days with my daughter and her gorgeous family. With the camper, our bedroom,  parked on their drive, we enjoy another few days of family stories, wild games and always fun. My soul was  rejuvenated being  around the buzz of youth.There is a full house, with eight children still at home and also my daughter's mother in law living with them.


They showed us plans for the new house they were getting with a new granny annex which will make life much easier.
We left them in good spirits and headed home on the Wednesday to  make choir practice for the Easter services, which were to start with The Mass of the Lord's Supper the next evening.
I love the Easter Triduum - Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Saturday- it's the culmination of the whole year's liturgy.The joy is almost tangible.  And it was a great pleasure to have our grandaughter, Elouise, a keen singer, join the choir for all the services.

This year, 2020, we haven't been out, haven't seen any family except the two children living with us,  haven't been to celebrate Easter in our Church, although we've been joining online mass which has been something.
And at the moment, we are not even going for a walk, having had some Covid 19 symptoms. We have to stay in,  isolate ourselves.
Although there were only going to be four of us together for Easter, I bought a leg of lamb. I would rather have not had meat , but  my son and daughter wanted to do a traditional lunch and as things are difficult enough...I mean, Peter has just had an operation and then an infection, and has been quite poorly.
 I wanted to create a special time for us together.
Now, what do they sat about making plans?
On Friday I started coughing ( well, that's when I noticed) and my chest was sore.
What to do?
 Shall I just keep quiet and not tell them ? The next day It's obvious I'm not well so I have to tell them.
What to do?
I decide , after checking best advice to self isolate in the small bedroom. I feel guilty. After all, I'm still needed to nurse my husband, aren't I?
That's when my daughter stepped in and took over.
On the Sunday, Easter Day, they brought me dinner in my room and I didn't much care what it was or how they'd cooked it, which, for me, a control freak in my own kitchen,  was telling.
This was a very different day to 2019 when we spent the day with my daughter in Whitstable, with her husband , her six children and her husbands family. Their other grandma organized  an egg hunt, the sun shone, the dinner was a banquet, which fed more than twenty people.

The world is very different today.

But there is a wonderful life that we are hopefully edging back to.

Octpowrimo 31 Water

1st Nov 2017

So, we come to the end of October and the end of the octpowrimo challenge. I have enjoyed ot so much and looking back on the month I can see that some of my random words might be worthy of a revisit , so that'll keep me busy.

So here is my last offering

My theme for these two poems

Water

I am the river
travelling
sometimes strong, fierce,
sometimes a trickle, almost
gone
I am the river,
wide, winding,  full
then rushing, gushing,
down from the
mountain
I am the river
many lives depend on me
I am the river


Clouds, close can almost touch
white wisps blotting blue
or, slate grey and green.
Down the scree a waterfall steps
depositing pools in plateaus
dropping in sheets - six,
seven metres
filling the air with whooshing
background sound
Along valley floor
flows the water
it snakes its way more slowly till
departing, disappearing behind
A mountain

Camper days

13th Feb 2020

We seem to always like being near the water. Can't wait to go off again in the camper.  We're thinking it might be the summer in Cornwall this year.

16th Sept.2017

It seems such a long time now since our trip to France and Spain with our camper. The memories, though , are still fresh in my mind and like new bread the aroma of them wafts over me sometimes. So today I searched out a photo of those warmer days. 

I had to stop to take this picture when we were driving  up through the mountains on the coast of France before crossing the border into Spain. My husband is standing next  to the sheer drop of hundreds of feet that are on his right. Notice her isn't leaning on the red railing , or looking down at the view - a bit scared of heights. In front of him there are more mountains to climb. This was an exquisitely beautiful part of our journey. But again the photo doesn't do it justice at all.

Not sure what bridge I am on in this picture but I think it's a good example of the many lovely places we stopped at. Not that we took as many pictures as we might have done, because everywhere was just amazing.

And this is another take on the same river . Ahh, I remember now, it was a little town we passed through and stopped for a while because it was "pretty" . My husband peered into this river for ages watching the fish . He grew more determined as time went on that he would buy a fishing rod to take on our adventures. I'm happy with that as long as we can eat the catch.
He has now bought a rod and is waiting to use it.


I hope you like the pictures.

Found

22nd May 2017

The birds are making a racket but I love it and am thankful. I don't think I can get to TTOT today ( Ten Things Of Thankfulness) 

One more though - I did do a book review for a magazine this morning and sent it off.

That'll do for now. 

A little story from the prompt "found". 

Found...

Sally rolled out of bed, stretched, took her pink dressing gown from behind the door and slowly put it on taking time to tie a neat bow at the front.  She loved its softness against her skin and hugged herself as she went to open the curtains.  The bright sunlight that entered the bedroom, showed up dust and untidiness, which she hated, so she set about making the bed and clearing the clothes from the floor, taking extra care with her husband’s things, folding everything neatly and putting them in his drawers. 

She arranged the items on his bedside table as she liked them:  the lamp with movable head so he could read in bed, the photo of him with a lump of rock - apparently a particularly important find.  She spat on it, then polished it with her sleeve and placed it back with delicate precision.  Lastly she picked up the book he’d been reading for over a week now, “Reading The Rocks” by Marcia Bjormerud, a present from her the previous Christmas.  

Instead of putting it back she took it with her downstairs to the kitchen, where, after filling the kettle, she sat and opened it.  On the inside of the cover she had written-

To my dear husband with much love.

Hope this gives you many rocky moments to remember.

Happy Christmas,

Sal

Rocky moments - she thought he would find that amusing, but, as with most things, he wasn’t moved at all. Apart from seeing him reading the book avidly night after night she would never have known if he appreciated it or not.

She flicked through a few pages aimlessly, then threw it down on the table and went to make herself a cup of coffee, switching on the radio as she went by.

And now the news where you are. – she pours water into the mug  - Early this morning the  body of a man was found in the  River Colne, three miles north of Watford.  – she puts sugar in, one, two, three, stirs, takes her cup and sits at the table -  The police haven’t released his name but say they are asking for witnesses and think it may be suicide. There have been two other deaths in the past year in this stretch of the river, both of which turned out to be suicides.  

Sally sips her coffee.

 

  

Shameful

                                                                                 14th Oct 2016


The story of our walk today in a double acrostic.



                                            Shameful

   Stroll along bank of river on soft grasS, 

Hear birds sing in low branches and in the distance, fading, cars. Take PatH

Across orchard  - apples red, hanging heavy, ready , waiting -ah hA.

March freely on footpath- well worn- fallow fields on either side - and dreaM,

End at style - markers giving two choices , which one to takE

Follow  route that leads to historic church in village, through narrow lanes oF

Udulating clod , weaving your way until you spy the bridge over the river and yoU

Lean over and watch  fish trying to swim upstream, and there be stilL 

Tokaido Road

26th May 2020


Five Years Ago. 

26th May 2015

Hello all my lovely followers.
Just taking a rest from all the packing and cleaning and sorting and dumping and worrying that I've been manically steeped in this last week or so. Soon we are to move, days now.
In the meantime,  let me tell you about a wonderful evening we had last Saturday at the Gulbenkian Theatre in Canterbury.
We went along with friends to a modern day opera, yes, you read that right, an opera. Not normally my thing - all those soprano voices singing in a language I don't understand.
But this was nothing like that. We were prepared for it by having a presentation evening at Beach Creative to tell us about this unique performance. The inspiration for the production was The Tokaido Road in Japan, or rather a set of prints by Hiroshige, an artist who did fifty three wood block paintings of the stations on the road.
Nancy Gaffield, a poet became inspired by the prints she discovered when on a visit to Japan and wrote poems in response to the pictures. ( Tokaido Road by Nancy Gaffield, in case you're interested.)
Putting these two elements together and joining with musicians and other creative people an opera was written.
What a wonderful experience it was, especially as we knew some of the history.
Add to that the meeting of friends and a glass of wine .... well you get the idea...
This is my response to it:

 Tokaido Road

We step into the picture,
From Nihonbashi we accompany Hiro,
Along Tokaido Road.
A road from our dreams.
We cross the bridge.,
Slowly, serenely, absorbed in the scene.
Enchanted, enraptured, we listen to music,
as it  resonates, reverberates,
In our subconscious  recesses,
a reeling rhythm of life.
Music brings joy and pain
Freedom and confinement,
Throwing us onto the way of the road.
Images present themselves,
Without being asked,
A waterfall, windy roads,
Animals  scurrying, birds in flight.
Kites held by anonymous hands,
Escape.
Trees sway gently over the banks of,
The river.
The river that divides,
With fingers that spread across the plain,
That takes to itself,
That has it's story to tell.

We,  in monotonous pilgrimage,
Put one foot in front of another,
Encounter steep slopes,
And mountain pines.
At the summit,
cherry blossom fills aching lungs,
In the heat of the day.
As travelers we continue
On the way,
With Hiro,
But long for release.
The path , at times impossible,
Against us,
Wind , rain, umbrellas taking on new form.
We continue with Hiro,
To the end.
And in the end the mystery,
We are not the same,
We, like Hiro,
Are changed.