Since then he's been right. So I got out for a three hour wall which is the only thing that settles the bs down in my addled brain. Didn't take camera as I wanted to get some brisk exercise. Started up Crean Hill past Pride the horse who seems to be chewing up the hawthorn hedge as nothing much else to eat. Still don't know the name of his companion the little bay mare. Was she really abandoned in the field, just left there? My skin was tingling in a light breeze, a boost of oxygen and the smell of the sea, all smelling so good and fresh and alive. I did say a little internal thank you for being able to have this time, when most folks are toiling away in some stale office building somewhere. I need this kind of refreshment.
Saw a few locals, had a few laughs, gave some carrots to the beautiful little strawberry roan pony, bumped into Ann, then Duncan appeared with a bunch of daffs. Ann gives me a long complicated story about all her illnesses. I say probably having the ponies to look after is her lifeline. Her face seems to have calmed down, she had some awful red marks. Has a lot of problems. I eventually suggested 'Why don't you see if Cassandra, the St Buryan Wise Woman/ witch could do something for you? She must know something about herbs and what's good and some of those natural plants are very powerful. We have so much around us that we just don't see.'
"You know,' she said, 'I might just do that. I went into the Buryan on New Year's Eve and Cassandra was there.'
'Did you ask her?' I said.
'No but I'm thinking about it."
'Well there's nothing to lose is there? I mean what do they want you to have, steroids?'
Ann explained how an Ophthalmologist up at Treliske, the main Cornish Hospital in Truro, that
she said was probably a Pakistani, but I doubt whether she would no the difference, that he wanted to inject some kind of slow release into her eye. She was stopped taking Warfarin and now has a blood clot behind
her eye.
"Whatever you do, get a few other opinions won't you? Don't forget that they are only 'practising' medicine, you know that's what they are General Practitioners, practising medicine. You never can know it all, they only
do their best within limits to diagnose, when every case is totally different, its often a case of shifting goal posts and definitions I'd say.'
Don't know whether Ann thought any of this was worth hearing. She might try some complementary herbal cures or something like that.
'See if you can get comp medicine on the NHS. I mean if it cures you it saves them money in the end.
Duncan appeared with a big bunch of daffs.
'Are you going to give me a bunch Duncan,' I said. He smiled enigmatically. Strangely Ann thinks she's also an enigma, Good name for a horse I think.
I said 'Come on you miserable buggar, give us a bunch of daffs, you Cornish honestly.'
He smile again. Ann smiled and said 'Oooooh Maggie.'
He started to walk over, I started to smile. Thinking there were some for me.
'These are for Ann,' he said calling my bluff.
Then he laughed and gave me a bunch. I went over and gave him a little peck on the cheek. He really is a sweet
person but it's taken me ages to get a few flowers out of him.
'Better than just picking them,' I said as he ran off to his car. Quite a nice one actually.
I know I shouldn't kid around but I love seeing Duncan smile and Ann too. There seems to be some
curiosity about where I'm staying when I usually stay at Fen's. I'm at Charlies this year I say and don't say
anymore.
Soon as he left Ann started whispering.
'He'd make a lovely husband, he would.'
'Oh we shouldn't just start talking about him, he probably knows we will.'
'Oh, he won't mind. He wanted to marry Gill, Arthur's daughter but then Kevin Hall
came along and that was that. The Hall's own Treen Farm, the car park, the tennis courts and
I suppose are what you might call a 'good' family a good prospect down here. Gill's family didn't have
a farm or anything like that. Arthur always worked in the Cable Station. Gill was the local beauty and could
have the pick of the crop. Duncan is a very sweet, shy man. He has land and grows flowers and vegetables and
has a nice house. Not sure if he still lives with his mother, but why not. He sometimes has seemed a little
prickly if I'm not as aware as I should be about his land. I don't know if the Hall's own the farm or are tenants.
Or whether Duncan owns his or is a tenant. A lot of the houses and cottages round about, especially down in Penberth, come with land attached, since in the past the people had to be quite self sufficient, growing early crops on the sunny, sheltered terraces. Potatoes, brocolli, cauliflower, maize, potatoes, turnips and most people tending chickens of their own and maybe a cow and a pony. Indeed Arthur told me on the tapes I did
that they had a pony and a jingle (trap). With fresh local fish that the locals also could catch, the diet was pretty good. Arthur said they never went without during the war,while everywhere else had rationing. You would work according to the weather. If the wind and weather was good you would take the boat out, other days do some farm work. In the winter you would make lobster pots. Indeed Jaqueline Chapple's husband drew a whole series of sketches to show how it was done. They would use local red willow and also made baskets for wood and those big rectangular ones that sit on the shoulders for carrying potatoes. 'Taffy' Richard Mathews, told me his Mother, a large, strong woman, used to climb down from the field behind Fen's cottage, Robin's Cottage, with a huge harvest of potatoes and walk down to the cove with them on her back for them to be taken away to market.
With flowers also, such as narcissus, jonquil, ten varieties of daffodil, anemone, crimson pink Kaffir lilies, Cornish people could also make a bit of money from early flowers, sent up to London and elsewhere in the days before the Dutch ruled the flower world. Mills were also abundant since there were several robust streams draining down to the sea. At the Mill the Valbaker's live in the mill wheel still turns. One wonders if any electricity or something could be generated by this hydro power. Seems a waste if not. There's a mill at Penberth, and in most hamlets round here and local wheat would also be grown.
Going to Trelawney's fish market yesterday, I asked Paula Higgin's x husband Theo, who lives in Verona, if the selection of fish was wider than in Verona. I didn't check my geograpy first though to see if it was on the sea coast or not. He said no, there was more here. The three or four shops that sell fresh wet fish are directly opposite the warehouses places where the fish are put in containers and shipped out, within yards of the sea where they were caught. There is some salmon and perhaps a few other fish not caught locally but most is. I hadn't noticed the local mussels and scallops also. I bought a large fillet of haddock, a packet of smoked salmon and a plain cured kipper that was not the awful unnatural bright orange/yellow so hopefully was without unnatural ingredients. I think northern folks like a good kipper, even though they stink the place down to cook them. Can't beat a nice kipper with fresh bread and butter. One imagines fresh Cornish butter, local grown wheat and local caught kippers. I cannot for the life of me understand why there isn't a queue of people going right out of the door of the shop on a Friday.
We just don't value our fish enough here and elsewhere. Other countries are only to happy to snap them up. And a restaurant would be wonderful, even just doing the basics, even at a push a fish and chip shop with fresh local caught fish. Seems like a business waiting to happen. Somehow Cornwall does not push itself anymore. Has it got depression?
Anyway I continued up past the nice white house, and on towards Tresidder Farm. Duncan advised me of the route some time ago. I now walk regularly past his flower fields. I surprise a couple of very white tailed bunnies that have a kind of rustic red tinge to them but it is probably sunset and the fading light giving them an added glow.
I still can' work out which of the houses on the Valbaker's property is the Pole House. I can't see anything that
looks like what I imagine a Pole House looks like. It's typical of people to assume you know what they mean just because they know. As I went past Trethewey and Polgigga past the Crean turn off, I noticed to wild blooming Narcissus, the tiny flowers blooming already. Winter might be wet, grey and windy down here but it doesn't last long. As long as we can get through January without ice and snow we will probably sail into February on the back of the wind.
That parsley is full or iron and Vit C. Also good for removing any bad breath you might have.I also went and bought four bunches of anemones and a big bunch of parsley from the stall near the Penberth
I read that the Greek word 'Anemone' means daughter of the wind and that anemones are also called windflowes. They are related to anticipation. The word 'Anemone' seems like a pretty name for a girl but happens to be extremely unpopular.
No comments:
Post a Comment