And just like that the rain has stopped. Juggling grandchildren and rain is one of the great unknowns of a British Summer. This slightly explains the erratic nature of blogging over July and August.
Not that rain is completely a bad thing, every morning a small bowl of garden strawberries is served to a happy 4 year old. This lunchtime the first red tomato was cut in half and shared as a snack.
The tomatoes in hanging baskets are behind in the colour stakes but ahead in fecundity.
Other jobs like recycling and rubbish removal into the outside world are infinitely more pleasant without rain.
But what has caused this sudden break in some truly shocking weather? Almost certainly the delivery of a really long Dryrobe for a small person apparently it will fit her from age 5 to 9. That is a really long dry spell if this coat really is the weather charm we hope for.
This is a sign of a good Saturday. The Saturday newspaper is still virtually unread on Sunday morning. My only print copy of the week when it remains unread until Sunday. If, by chance, it has been read fully on Saturday then a Sunday paper is purchased. I probably am a typical Guardian reader and am as comfortable with that as any other stereotype. Sometimes people I know personally are written about or contribute to the Guardian. In recent months two colleagues have been featured. One was Maggie Jenkin who does invaluable work solving human mysteries.
Today another colleague is in the spot light. Naming herself as Dr Biscuit.
I have had long letters to the letters page and had them published and art exhibitions reviewed in the pages of The Guardian.
The guardian also has an alternative Obituary service called Other Lives.
The obituaries are of notable but normal people. The Obituaries are written by friends, colleagues and family members. Far from sadness these essays on a life are life affirming. The power of being under the radar of celebrity and yet contributing massively to the positive aspects of society and culture.
I can’t link directly but should the lives of normal people inspire you just google – Other Lives The Guardian.
Let me be honest, the Sports pages get recycled with the pages unmoved in this house but Feast often feeds us for a week.
Other newspapers get read occasionally. Last week the Guardian was sold out so I slipped to the Dark- side and read a Rupert Murdoch product. The Times, it is no bad thing to sometimes go for change but the behaviour of News International Journalists and management makes the Times only a real emergency read. Not because it isn’t good because it is but my moral compass spins uncomfortably as I read it. Also the quality of their paper for their cooking pages is glossy and fragile, barely surviving one cooking moment in my kitchen. Feast goes on for years.
Just a little Saturday extra. I always treat myself to a print copy of a Saturday newspaper, The Guardian. My most regular shop is a Co-op in Devonport. I am blown away that humans have crossed this threshold for the last 233 years. Originally it was a Unitarian Chapel and the fashion for men and women of the time was as below.
My clothing today, while collecting the newspaper, more closely resembles the male style of dress, a pair of exercise leggings, a tight fitting under vest and a loose swinging top.
By 1801 the Chapel had fallen out of use, mostly because Unitarianism was considered disloyal in a town that was primarily a military and thus Royalist town. Unitarians were enthusiastic supporters of the French Revolution. In a Spiritual switch around the Chapel became a Wine Merchants and may possibly have been a short-lived pub called The George.
The building was previously considered to be in George Street Devonport. And now it is a convenience store without actually moving an inch,in Duke street which conveniently sells newspapers on a Saturday. One other shop related ponder. I bought a sequin top to make a mermaid outfit from a charity shop. The young, male, shop assistant looked at my purchase and said. ” We should all try to sparkle every day”
There is nothing set to excite the bobbers than a colour chart and samples of Hoodies for the winter bobbing season. Even in a very dull patch of an English summer the thought of snuggly jumpers in January fires the imagination.
Tranquility Bay was anything but tranquil as we made decisions about the sartorial style of Winter 23/24. We don’t even have to agree on a colour as the only common denominator is the word ‘Bobbers’ on the back. But 74 colours, 2 styles and 15 humans is a heady mix of indecision. Particularly when the endorphins and positive ions of a good cold water dip make us all a bit giddy at the best of times.
The day turned out to have two longer than planned walks and one of the scheduled activities fell off the days achievement list. This lovely feather greeted me after I had had a hair cut. Despite the drizzle we walked a local circuit and were rewarded with the beautiful scent of woodsmoke held close to the ground by morning mist.
Then after the second primping session of the day, a manicure,there were no busses to take me back into the City so I walked in and found some locally themed Street Art.
I had planned to meet some family members in The Box Gallery and Museum but the closest I got was to see The Box depicted in the Street Art.
I missed all the fun of the gallery.
But we met up just in time to explore Sainsbury with all the excitement of a four year old. Not a moment of the day wasted.
With the return of sharp summer sunshine my morning dog walks are illuminated by sharp shadows. Scaffolding is set up against many of the local houses. Casting abstract shapes on old walls. The air is full of the metallic sound of bolts being tightened by electric spanners and ratchets mixed with music from high up radios, the age and ethnicity of the builder/painter/roofer identified by their choice of music. Sometimes the men working highest up play the oldest music. Surely a reflection of skilled, artisanal roofers being nearer to their pensions than their youth. Even the local church has a mantle of boards and scaffolding poles. The accoustics of the bell tower reverberating with heavy metal and dance tracks. Possibly the most fun the tower has had in a long time as I have never heard a peep from a bell or anything else in the tower since moving here two years ago.
But back to the sharp shadows of early morning and an agapathas against a grey wall. Just fabulous.
Four days of campervan camping in the rain is not what we planned, but Weather Forecasts certainly prepared our pragmatic selves for such an event. We were not even an hour from home so the ultimate sanction on the weather was to return to Stonehouse. Living in a confined space in bad weather is not as bad as it could be. Two weekend newspapers and a book read is a huge bonus. We also think about refinements to the van and life in general.
Now we are home the sun is out. We have been the busiest of bees drying out our awning and getting the campervan ready for the next adventure.
Time to wrap up our extended, long weekend of camping. In a world of constantly changing plans we decided to stick with our hastily organised camping trip. Regardless of how things turned out it would be a good location to test out our accessory camping kit, stuff that has not been used since before Covid.
Puddles in rocks, above, is a photograph taken on our only trip to Talland Bay. A beautiful beach close to our camp site. We popped there yesterday in a rare moment without torrential rain.
The focus of our trip was our 4 year old granddaughter. She loves the theory and practice of campervanning.
The weekends rain and the lack of beach time failed to dent her pleasure in the simple act of camping. In many ways her experience was enhanced. Book reading and playing was all we could do. We visited her Aunty Shelley in her caravan where we read books and played and sorted through charity shop jewellery. After 24 hours she was returned to her dad and granddad ready for a Sunday Roast. Perfection for a small person has such different goals to adult aspiration and rain really is of no consequence.
In a week of unexpected journeys this one took us to Mounts Bay this morning. Scene of the 2024 Prostate Charity swim. Today the destination where we returned Miss VV to her dad after a day and night of campervanning excitement for a four year old. On that time we learned that a local cutprice megastore was actually a World of Honey and that car journeys are measured by increments known as Penguin Rocks.
Never has Trago Mills been so romantically named and a measure of a Penguin Rock is 7 minutes. These small revelations happen when you only get to see a grandchild once or twice a year. She doesn’t know that we find Trago to be a bit of a chore. We don’t know what Penguin Rock is. We have all gained something today.
A ladybird sought sanctuary from a sea holly, initially from the sun but ultimately from another heavy rain storm.
We sought sanctuary at a cafe called Hoxton Special, promising life changing coffee.
Of course we have no way of knowing if this coffee changed our lives. We drank 1 and a half cups each and left the cafe.
Having avoided the storm, fully caffeinated up we set about the rest of our day. Which decisions were coffee related and which were not is one of lifes great unknowns. But like many good cafes they provided something to consider.
Hope your Sunday was as eventful or not as you required. More next week.
We’ve set up a tent extension to our campervan for the first time since before Covid. Summer plans have been somewhat changed due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control. Some things however must be squeezed into the itinerary no matter what. Camping with a small but important granddaughter who has loved our campervan since she was first able to walk. It is the campervan she loves, not the location. Last year she was hugely disappointed that we moved on from a supermarket car park where she had happily started her camping weekend while we shopped for food essentials.
For many reasons we have set up a day before she arrives. Everything apart from the weather is good to go.
We have a corner plot and a beautiful hydrangea next to the van.
No filters, all these blooms on one bush.
So now we await the V I (s) P. Fairy lights are in position. Last night there was a small fairy light crisis. A whole string fell on Lola. Worse things happen.
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