What we did on our holidays

 

It’s been a busy and hectic few weeks. The highlight has to be 10 days holiday in Cornwall with ‘Team Powell.' Of course, we went to the usual place, Clovelly. In fact Higher Clovelly, a sub area of which rejoices in the unfortunate name of Slerra, which always sounds like slurry to me. It has the enormous advantage  over the rest of Clovelly in having easy car access and the village hall over the road provides safe parking. The cottage itself is small and old and suffers from having been unsympathetically modernised. I must have been there 22 or 23 times over the years and spend some of the time musing over what I would do to rescue it. Put back the plaster on the grim beach-boulder walls for a start. Make the fireplace a much more congenial by installing a red light behind the beam over the woodburner, re-design the garden for some privacy, etc etc.

Its potential is such that once I had the lunatic idea of entering into a part-ownership of the place with its then owner, who was an old school friend of Cherry’s. I had visions of weekends away from the hurly-burly of Southeast England, and our developing nautical interests by keeping a boat down in the harbour and getting in with the locals.  My academic career being all about boats, it seemed to make sense. Cherry, thankfully, put her foot down, knowing that a combination of my incompetence with anything to do with DIY and lack of money would mean that the proposed rescue would take decades, absorb huge amounts of money and time and probably fail in the end. Even more to the point, it would mean our always going to Clovelly with our free time instead of engaging in the globe-trotting we both wanted to do, and that we in fact did. As a clincher, she would brutally remind me of how often I got sea-sick. Fortunately wisdom prevailed.

The compromise was that whenever we didn’t have somewhere more exciting to go, we would consider Clovelly, hence the large number of shortish visits over the years. And let’s face it, Clovelly and the surrounding area is really beautiful.  The village itself with its steep narrow cobble streets which can only be used by people and donkeys is so picturesque that it’s been used as a backdrop to countless films and tv series – the  most recent being the charming ‘Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie’ Society.’ Then there’s the glorious coastline and a  wonderful variety of coves and surfing beaches. Despite being uncertain about heights I did some great coastal walks when briefly there on my own. There’s a sheer drop on the right in this pic, which I was very glad to pass ! Hartland Point lighthouse is pretty stunning too.

We got to know the area well. In fact some of our most important family events and/or decisions got to be made there. We very nearly gave our No 3 a second name of ‘Shipload’ because that was where he was conceived - as an idea, I hasten to say, not a product. The following year a heavily pregnant Cherry led the party down the long steep and perilous path to the beach to show Shipload bay that we meant what we said ! Since then the path has collapsed and abseiling via the roots of bracken is the only way of getting down there and very rarely attempted.

Over the years, we essentially compiled a list of attractions we just had to see or do, whenever we went there. It became a habit that has certainly continued into the second generation. Accordingly , this time, all the usual places and activities were revisited or done- and, despite indifferent weather, very satisfactorily. In fact for the first three days I was there on my own and investigated the possibility of redoing something we had only done once, decades ago- namely to drive to Speke’s Mill mouth and its famous waterfall along an unmarked mile-and-a-bit back-track. I walked it this time. Frankly I couldn’t believe that we had done that with an old estate car packed with three kids, enormous amounts of beach paraphernalia, surfboards, picnic stuff and a Grandma. I concluded that since then I have got a lot less adventurous and/or stupid. 

 This time there was a rowing regatta in Clovelly which was interesting. Team Powell swims regardless of the weather and developed a nice line in beach barbecue breakfasts, complete with fried eggs after early morning surfs. When a frying pan and fish slice was brought out of the bag in the drizzle became one of the trip's major memories for me, 

Another was a a major success in the beach-combing which is one of

my favourite activities in remote parts of any beach. I was very pleased to come back with a buoy and lots of rope. A buoy will stop the pond freezing over and rope always comes in handy ! Anyhow in our various ways all members of the party had a great time - and the weather wasn't quite as dreadful as some of these pictures might suggest.  

Other than that it’s been a continuous story of catching up from the past five years of partial neglect of house and garden, not helped of course by having been away in the midst of the growing season for ten days. Its harvest time as well and taking in all the produce and doing something with its before eating or, mainly, consigning it to the freezer has taken up a lot of time and effort. I keep hoping that it must be good for me.

Academics have slipped down in, but not disappeared from,  the priority list. Things, including a few invitations are still coming in and proving quite hard to resist. I’ve realised over the years the extent to which what I have been able to achieve in that line was actually due to the fact that Cherry did so much underway support and replenishment despite her own career. Having to do everything myself now explains why I so frequently seem to be running out of time for everything, and worryingly apt to miss things, because I forget to keep sufficient note of commitments or even look in the diary. Quite sobering actually. I must ensure I don’t degenerate into a stereotypical absent-minded professor, and can definitely see the prospect looming on the horizon.