Cap'n Jasp'rs Plymouth, Lostwithial and Golant revisited

The Lido and Smeatons tower

The Hoe

 The Indian Summer blazes on in Devon today so Helen and Me choose the promenade walk along Plymouth Hoe and a coffee at Captain Jaspers where the upgrade to this iconic bikers cafe sees a revamped exterior with new Teak trimmings but the same quirky interior fitments and decor retained.The coffee is good at just £1 per cup minus a refundable 20p on return of the mug.

Fire engine was pumped by hand

At Lostwithial we visit the little museum and meet the curator ex bandsman who played the french horn in the army and showed us old photos of himself and friends, The exhibits are unusual to be sure and a lower floor reveals much of interest.  The 250 years old Nuttall Fire Engine was donated by the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe in 1761.

Antique shops predominate of one sort and another. including one with particularly distressed furniture and objects of curiosity at greatly inflated prices. Wandering on through the narrow street a busy sale room displayes a sign outside "Sale now on", however we are quickly recognised as paupers and my bum bag without a fist sized bulge fails to impress. It is quickly pointed out that the rooms are under preparation and that we might care to re-visit on sale day.   Perhaps we barged-in uninvited to some sort of preview. 

 Further down the lane we buy a coffee and cornish carrot cake to be consumed beside the river Foy.  

Heading now back on the road for a revisit to Golant and the secluded 15th Century church of St Sampson. Perched on a secluded hillside above the Foy estuary this charming little place is brightly lit inside, with the sun streaming in and added to, by spotlights attached to the carved roof timbers.

One bright interior with interesting barrel roof timbers.

Carving about the pulpit

St Sampson Church

Abandoned and all but forgotten

Another decaying hulk

Surely not sold as Bio Degradable 

Looked after I hope to preserve the Mog for several more years

Dinghy Racing v Morgan Pootles - The two passions.

Saturday's Regatta event began at 9am and continued with three races back to back on the Teign Estuary in a 12 mph breeze from the sea. A beautiful morning with the Kriiyyeee of Arctic Terns in the air. Sundays three races were sailed in a force 3/4 and some long beats and several capsizes for the unwary.

Aching legs from the efforts laid me low for the rest of the weekend but Sea Bass for tea caught by Max should replenish the spent muscle.

If anything beats a pootle in the Mog its the combat of dinghy racing, being tested or bested by friends and rivals in this glorious indian summer.

Moored up in St Ives

Tuesday sees me fully recovered from the weekend and Helen and me take ourselves down to Exmouth for mushrooms on toast at the harbourside cafe and a brief shop for new wet suit booties.

Looking back, feeling fortunate to have arrived just here.
Born 1943 in Bristol with bombs  falling round about; to a mother whose nursing job was retrieval of metal swarf from the eyes of factory workers.
A "blue" baby discarded as non-viable until breathed upon by my mother, not before a good chilling on a cold marble slab. My surveyor father was on the other side of the country and coupons were saved to buy dried egg and bananas. A milk allergy and much vomiting resulted in umbilical hernia. Aged four, my tonsils were removed but shortly after, I was hastily ferried back to hospital due to blood loss.
At 18 wrote off a mini (very silly of me). At 50 my heart missed a few beats. Faltering attempts to keep up in the surf at Porthmeor was the earliest indication of heart block. I was later paced with a battery.  Circumstances then conspired in a perfect storm to send me through two harrowing episodes of despondency. At 55 some nasal polyps required the surgeon's knife,

 At 70 three hemorrhoids led to another minor surgical procedure and a slightly uncomfortable week (one tiny rubber band recovered - two  lost).
Helen will not approve of this disclosure but for what its worth I marvel at the extraordinary medical advances that improve the quality of life.

I treated myself to a second hand sewing machine some months ago and so far have made cushions, roman blinds, bunting, 1 rabbit toy, 3 soft elephants, penguin, squid, 1 nessie,  2 whales, 1 quilt and a sail (for the pram dinghy), 

With orders for more bunting and cushions I shall soon be paying  another visit to the Heathcote Mill at Tiverton.

Lamp newly completed

Geevor-Zennor-Sennen : Magical Cornwall

 A clue to the appeal of Cornwall lies in the evocative place names.

It is here that St Just and Pendeen, Botallack and Morvah, Geevor tin mine, old engine houses, granite tors, sea cliffs and ancient farmsteads on medieval fields meet the Atlantic. No wind or solar energy farms to blot the landscape; planners well aware how detrimental that would be.

To reach these little gems  I join the A30 near Exeter. Its an early start, 6.00 with an ETA of 8.30 at Zennor where I want to be in the 4/4. Oil checked, tyre pressures checked, screen washed, GPS set. Skirting north of Dartmoor and Oakhampton, past Launceston, across Bodmin Moor, by-passing  St Ives;  I now follow the coast and breathe the lovely sea fresh air. This is the  B3306. running through an area of outstanding natural beauty. 

The sea state and light is forever changing but even on a foggy day the shades of grey just add to the magic. At other times the clouds may cover 9/10th of the sky and the sun tracks over the landscape in spotlights viz the images above.

The back-packers hostel at Zennor is good for a coffee break with off road parking.

Happy memories at Porthmeor beach-café (St Ives) of our children wave riding the surf all day long and serving them bacon butties and coffee.

St Just is one of those places all too easily passed by;  I seek out a couple of narrow lanes that head towards the sea and discover Ballowall Barrow. A century ago this area was as devastated as any of the smokey grey industrial wastelands of the north. I dare say many of the locals from these parts never dream of wandering abroad, why choose Italian Pasta over Cornish Pasty.

Necessity is the mother of invention it is said and invention certainly happened here in abundance. Pioneers of mining, engineering, navigation, fishing and agriculture all flourished.

There is no doubt the Morgan will endure but how I would love to add my two penneth of minor modifications - a guide rail to the rack and pinion such that it is no longer subjected to twisting loads from the track rod ends.  Linkage of the rear leaf springs using bronze trunnions instead of primitive shackles. Recall the fold flat windscreen, a feature so very much enjoyed on every one of my old MGs. Also an exposed exhaust manifold in stainless flexitube would add great charisma as exemplified in this Mercedes.

Health update / Birthday surprise

By way of a post script to "Health Warning" (8th August) I am delighted to say all went well on my birthday at the RD&E with reference to my minor op involving a video camera !

I will NOT be posting the video here as it might deter my Morgan motorist friends from re-visiting these pages ... I am pleased to report that I now have little recollection of the event due to the degree of sedation used.