Onwards and upwards, further up and further in. What’s the phrase that Aslan keeps using at the end of the Narnia books after everyone’s died and Narnia’s reinvented even more real than it was before? Anyway, Cornwall’s a lot like Narnia. Full of Fauns and Dryads.
Actually that’s Mark and Carla, 2 of the people I was down in Polruan (tell me that’s not the name of a place in Narnia!) in Cornwall with, at, to. Grammar huh? We stayed with the lovely Jo and lovely John in their lovely holiday cottage on the lovely waterfront. Shades of Bergerac there, but lovely it all was. Saw the New Year in first in a pub, then down on the beach with champagne and candles for midnight, then a bit more pub for the watching of some very rocking guitar music played by local band. Then things go a little more hazy but possibly involved going back to the cottage for some more wine and then bed. Or being abducted by aliens and being shown new and wonderful technologies which would end war and human suffering on this planet forever and allow us to take our place alongside the rest of the peaceful species on the Galactic Council having been shown how to instantly travel to anywhere in the universe at will.
I forget.
Anyway, a few days pottering about in Polruan, catching up on entire series’s’s’s of Spaced and Black Books, both works of comedic bliss. A few trips across the estuary…
…on the ferry…
Look I’m sorry but try telling me that this place wasn’t invented by C. S. Lewis. Christmas trees on gaily painted ferry boats? I ask ya!
Driven back ably by John via a lovely pub somewhere in the middle of nowhere that made the best gnocchi dish I’ve tasted so far ever. Kind of normal Gnocchi then pan fried a bit so it had a slight crunch to it then put with some roasted peppers, pesto and rocket with some shaved parmesan. If you want me to love you, cook me that. Follow it up with the lemon tart I had for desert and I will be your slave…
What else? Back in Epsom again for a week or so am I now. What the hell’s happened to my sentence structure? Too much lager poured on it in Islington last night I suspect. You think lager turns you into Yoda?
Back in ’83 I laughed at my Uncle (Hi Geoff!) one Christmas for betting me that Boy George was a girl when we saw him on TV. What’s that got to do with the price of Turkish delight you may ask… Well I found out the other night through the medium of watching television that the singer of The Delays (rather fabulous pop music purveyors) is actually a bloke rather than the feisty woman type person I had envisaged from hearing him. That was a little bit of a surprise and now makes listening to the album that I listened to a lot last year a bit of an odd experience. Anyway Geoff, you can now laugh at me for being uncool.