'Our fourteen acres stretched along the rim of Mount’s Bay, glorious meadows tilting towards the sea where we could stand and marvel at the fishing boats below us as they hurried busily east to Newlyn and west toward Lands End. And beyond the cargo boats and Atlantic liners sailing across the horizon from the Wolf Rock to the Lizard.'
I read this as I scanned the same horizon from Sennen and walked the same cliffs round to the bays of Nanjizal and Porthcurno and beyond to the cliff meadows that the Tangyes cultivate. I picked the book up at the flea market in Penzance after hearing the name from a variety of sources. And what a find !
It is a life affirming read that captures the essence of the rural dream. I assume it set the bar as a pre-cursor to the glut of lifestyle change books with similar titles such as ‘A Parrot in the Pepper Tree’ where the ex-drummer from Genesis escapes to Andalucia to shear sheep. Derek Tangye and his wife Jeannie leave a glamorous life in London to run a flower farm on the hills by Lamorna Cove in West Penwith. This episode in their adventure, written in 1963, comes as they are battling the elements and the market for flowers in a changing world and tells of their relationship with a variety of animals and birds and two local teenagers who come to work for them. ‘We were escapists , but we were not escapists to idleness. We had to earn a living out of our personal endeavours.’ Hubert the ageing gull finds refuge on their roof in his final years and the two helpers, Jane and Shelagh, are wild pagan spirits who delight in being able to work in the sea air, playing pranks on their earnest boss amongst the flowers, in a land they seem to inhabit with native ease. I wondered if the absence of their own children allowed him to speak so lyrically about the young women and wondered if the enterprise would ever have been embarked upon or indeed ,would he have had time to write about it, if they had children of their own. The descriptions of this challenging but idyllic lifestyle are touching and sensitive without being cloying and hint at a passing style of the English gentleman who can appreciate his lot and the freedoms such a lifestyle affords. This may be considered eccentric but it is the determination to follow a dream which so many now hanker for to create their own magical slice of rural bliss in harmony with the wild natural landscape that endures. This is the dream that would be hard to realise now in a land of overpriced second homes and the highly commercialised world of big farming but the dream still shines as a beacon to all romantics with a desire to lit out for the territories. The eternal optimism is a testament to the human spirit to overcome adversity to achieve a sense of peace and harmony. ‘I was pursuing the age old formula of sacrificing the present for the ephemeral future.’
Moments of sagacity and self awareness, possibly heightened by the ability to ponder the meaning of life in such splendid isolation punctuate the narrative.
‘But the wonder of our life was that we never wished to shift its base. There in the lonely cottage where the sea murmured through the windows, we had the exquisite knowledge that if the map of the world had been open to us and we could go where we chose, money no object we would have lived nowhere else. We were the lucky ones. We had an environment which cushioned us against the worries which burrow and sap confidence. We were living the life of our choice and Minack was our armour. We were not looking out to the horizon like others, searching for a life that is beyond reach. We did not have to say wew would find happiness if we did this or did that, having to brighten the greyness of the passing years by praying that one day a dream would be fulfilled. We had our dream around us.
It’s a love story, two people coupled with each other and bonded in their pursuit of their own dream and the land they come to love. Mortality seems to be felt much keener on the margins of society away from the bustle of the city where days are spent in pursuit of artificial goals. The book is a real boon for those trying to justify a similar will to pursue goals away from the mainstream and the pressures and prying eyes of convention. This sense of time passing for the reader is heightened by the knowledge that neither are any longer with us but must have made their most of their time and in sharing their life through these literary gifts they must have provided inspiration to many.
Further exploration amongst the wise and wordly of West Penwith found that he is a local legend feted by ‘The Minack Society’ who meet at Lamorna Pottery café to, presumably share their own affections for his timeless classics which still touch the heart of visitors and locals alike who can appreciate his love for the varying moods of this rugged coastline. I read part of the book on the train and found two people eager to tell me more about the books which they remembered from their childhood. It seems to be a book that touches the hearts of those who read it and not only am I eager to find other much sought after copies of the series I have had a real desire to pass the book on to another who can share the same uplifting of the spirit I felt throughout the read. A rare find indeed.
