Angels of the Sky

Another dangerous pursuit but more graceful. Very appealing although clear risks of death involved so will never do it. I was going to pretend that was me, top of the food chain, master of the skies, hanging tough, but someone has to observe and take photos. This is increasingly popular on sunny days as they use the thermals to swoop and dive nonchalantly as the beach goers stare in awe. Maybe that is the real buzz of these things, getting people to stand and stare open mouthed. Vain pursuits by macho alpha males, a bit like writing a blog but more dangerous. It looks easy but I wonder how the first flight goes. It's not the fear of falling its the fear of jumping off...

Lug Worms

Marazion beach is quite muddy and the worms who make great bait for fishermen love it. Unfortunately the bait diggers cause unsightly holes in their search for these luscious lugworms. Lord St Levan who owns the Mount and probably thinks he owns the sea, roped in his farmer friends to plough up the beach as the piles were ruining his view. I am surmising, of course, as my skills of investigative journalism run as deep as a tabloid hack and this would be my front page news with associated superlatives and puns. 'Lug OFF' 'Lug Less' 'Worms', I am sure you can do better ! According to the Yorkshireman digging for bait, who makes £20 a bucket, they have done it in sheer spite to ward off the diggers. He felt they had killed an acre of beach by destroying the bio-diversity. All the worms would be dead or eaten by gulls. Who knows what the truth is, and I certainly don't, but I will always be on the side of the diggers and the levellers !

'Stand up now Digger's all !'

Air , sea rescue

Drama in the Cove as the climbers who favour the dramatic Maen Cliff hotspot decided to fall off. They are pretty steep and I have watched them thinking that it is one of of the few things I would never like to try. Savage amusement, hanging from a rope trying to haul my weight up a sheer cliff with complete faith placed in the person at the other end of the line. The Culdrose chopper got the call and stretchered the bodies away. They had to fly in close to the cliff, impressing the hordes who gathered to watch the horror unfold. The sky bird seems to be the favoured method of saving people, rendering the lifeboats who get all the money from RNLI contributions rather quiet.

RIP Rusty

Rusty bit the dust and has gone to meet his maker at the scrap heap. A grand's worth of welding due to being left on a salty cliffside for 6 months was a diagnosis too far. Many fond memories of Hay, Latitude and Big Chill festivals and weekends away. Also a lot of stressful driving as he didn't like hills and was cutting out whenever he felt like it at the end. Rusty got me to Cornwall and found his spiritual home. RIP Rusty van, you will be missed. Especially when I am in a tent from Tuesday !! Expect an insiders account on Cornwall's best and worst, definitely the cheapest, campsites and farmers' fields.

Trewidden Gardens

The Princess Royal visited Penwith College today to offer the royal seal of approval to our new buildings although what her brother would have made of them I am not sure. She then went on to The National Trust gardens at Trengwainton and then to these hidden gardens at Trewidden which are a real wonder. As they are more private, I had the gardens to myself when I visited and the magnolias and camellias were in full bloom. As the climate is mild and these gardens are protected by Mounts Bay there are a number of sub tropical plants and wonders brought from the far edges of the world by intrepid explorers of families made rich on empire and dubious plundering of peoples and resources, including their own Cornish subjects. Trewidden was owned by the Bolitho family whose name is everywhere in Penwith as Edward was the MP for St Ives in the nineteenth century and bequeathed a private school carrying his name which closed at Christmas only to be miraculously saved by a far eastern syndicate betting that private schools may reap dividends further down the line.

The tree fern pit is one of many oases of calm. Ferns like the pungas that are found in New Zealand were planted in an old open cast tin mine and the moist humid conditions have allowed them to thrive. The woods were carpeted in fallen petals from camellias and the vibrant reds and oranges blazed amongst the maze of walkways. As the visitor bimbles aimlessly around it is wish to give yourself over to the rhythms of the garden and chill and hug the trees. The walk was like meditation and I did spend rather too long staring at a redwood tree with its gnarled trunk twisted around a perpendicular spine. A little more imagination and it would come to life, an animators dream and a great children's playground. I left with a profound sense of peace. I wonder if Princess Anne could ever have quite the same experience with her retinue of hangers on and security. Simple pleasures the vulgar herd could never understand.

Hubert the Gull

Derek Tangye wrote about a gull that lived on his roof for a few years on his flower farm near Lamorna. Apparently injured or elderly gulls find solace in human company having been abandoned by their cruel brethren. Darwin felt that Seagulls were the perfect design, particularly their wings and I have seen enough to say they can hold their own in any food chain. I now have my own Hubert who looks at me in the evening as the sun goes down beyond the cottage in front of Cliffside. I know I shouldn't feed the seagulls, anyone who has been to St Ives and dared to eat a pasty or feed their kids sandwiches on the beach will attest to this, but Hubert is special and we have a bond. He only has one leg and knows he can wangle a crust if he stares at me long enough. He also likes old disposable barbecue coals which I tend to leave out to find ravaged in the morning.

Mazy Day

This is the big day of the year in Penzance when the pagan spirits rise for midsummer and chaos and revelry run riot in the streets. There are processions and dances throughout the day led by the Golowan band and a master of ceremonies who is a local legend called Roger White, a cross between the voodoo priest from live and let die and David Koresh, cult leader and man of many wives. A calmer maritime festival takes over on Sunday after the excesses of Mazy eve and the big day which saw blazing sunshine this year. The pubs were in full swing taking over Chapel Street with stalls all over the town selling tat and expensive balloons for guilty dads. Our five pound horse balloon escaped later to much consternation but the sight of pegasus flying out over the cliffside and up over the beach away to Cape Cornwall and beyond proved a source of wonder and quite possibly amazement to the pilots flying to the Scilly Isles. Mazy Isla had fun and I spent the day queuing for face painting or, eventually, hand painting, checking out my student Shay's stall and eating garlic mussels and cornish new potatoes. Will have to give myself over to full Mazy madness next year and let the spirits rise...