Tuesday, 26 August 2014
We just need Mr B's knee to recover (it isn't on its own but he is one of those men that believes that injuries right themselves. I was married to someone who believed that too. No comment. Just don't mention "physician heal thyself" or I will scream).
This is the view looking up the rigging of the Tall Ship Mercedes when we sailed on her last Easter (2013).
Now, Falmouth is gearing itself up for Tall Ships 2014 - let's hope the weather cheers up a bit as the sight of all those magnificent ships in Falmouth Bay is not to be missed. You'll be able to get on board the ships from Thursday to Saturday, then the grand Parade of Sail will be on Sunday from 11 till 2pm before they head off up the coast, up towards Greenwich.
So anyone who's in Cornwall over this coming weekend, head for Falmouth. It is truly the most wonderful sight - even if you don't like boats. You won't be disappointed!
And onto other matters - on Wednesday I have a medical MOT day. Gynae clinic in the morning and an hour's hygienist appointment in the afternoon. Luckily we're having a girls night after that - I'll need it!
Tuesday, 12 August 2014
The best laid - or is that made? - plans and all that…
This week is Falmouth Regatta Week which I’ve been looking forward to all year. I even organised my surgery so I could sail this week.
But one way and another it doesn’t look very promising. First of all, Al came down but the boat took longer to get ready than we’d anticipated, and when we finally set off for a sail last Friday, there was no wind.We had to be towed out, then paddle back - this boat has no engine. So that scuppered that. I was so disappointed I cried (quietly, where I hoped Al couldn’t see) so Mr B took me out in Echo instead. Which wasn't the same but better than nothing.
The following day Mr B went out with the others in the boat for a shake down as he knows much more about the technical side of things that I do, so I ground my teeth as I waved them off….
On Sunday, the first day of racing, Bertha hit Cornwall so all racing was cancelled.
Yesterday it was blowing a hoolie and chucking it down with rain so I wasn't sorry not to race and they had a hard time of it and broke a backstay.
That was fixed but today they went out and broke both backstays -lucky the mast stayed up - so once again the boat is being fixed.
I’ve got to the point of being Philosophical now. If I don’t race this year, it’s not the end of the world. It felt like it the other day, looked forward to it for a long time, but like all things, there’s a reason. And you certainly can’t argue with the weather.
The good news is that I had a phone call from a friend I haven’t seen for about 20 years who’s staying down at Mylor. We met up and it was just like old times. We took Moll for a walk and caught up and might even go on holiday together.
Just think, if I’d been racing I might not have seen her.
Wednesday, 6 August 2014
This was us singing in the Field of Loss - the poppy field - at Heligan last Sunday.
Last Friday my dear friend Av and I went to see West Side Story at Plymouth’s Theatre Royal - a most wonderful production with a fabulous cast. Av had organised the whole event brilliantly, so our Travelodge was next door and car park near to that. Even better, we had plenty of eateries nearby so that sorted our food problem. All in all, a wonderful evening, then the next morning we had a guided tour round the theatre which was fascinating - seeing the orchestra pit, going on stage, and the dressing rooms.
Unfortunately my train was cancelled on the way back, then the next train was late, so I got in nearly 2 hours late, which involved endless phone calls mostly to organise Moll being picked up at a different time -but all was sorted.
Then the next day we set off for Mevagissey, then Heligan, to take part in 100: The Day the World Changed. Nearly 80 of us singers, plus a few friends, came along in 3 coaches, and we started off at Mevagissey town quay where the St Austell band played, then the re-enactment of the local men who went to war a hundred years ago, and how their women and children were affected.
It was incredibly moving and it was impossible not to cry at some point in the day - for me when we sang Soldiers Farewell to the impossibly young looking men - boys - who were about to walk off to war, thinking that they’d be home by Christmas.
The re-enactment lasted all day - we sang for a lot of it - to over 5,000 people and ended up in the Field of Loss - a field planted with poppies - as the names of all those who had died in the surrounding parishes were read out.
We walked miles, sang our hearts out, and it really brought home the horrors of what everyone had to live through - and are still doing so for those who have loved ones still fighting.
It was a real privilege to be part of this production, and our thanks go to all those who worked so hard to make it happen. Our wonderful Musical Director, Claire Ingleheart, deserves so many thanks for all her hard work. We are so very proud of her.
Wednesday, 30 July 2014
I replied, “Yes! Whatever it is, throw it this way (she said rashly)”.
Then there was silence so I presumed nothing was going to happen, but then she rang and said she was sadly too busy to do the interview, would I like to? You bet - and anyway, when an editor asks you if you’d like to do any interview, let alone one of the most famous writers of women’s contemporary fiction, the answer is never a negative.
So Mr B drove me round Falmouth, on the hunt for The Shell Seekers, or any other book by her. Nothing in the library. Nothing in my friend Tash’s bookshop. As I had to do the interview early this week, there was no time to order anything online. Kirstie had a copy so I was going to drive to Truro to get it when I was stricken by a really horrible tummy bug so that laid me up for a few days. I had read all of Mrs Pilcher’s books before, but it would have been good to refresh my memory.
Anyway, by Monday morning, when I’d scheduled the interview, I was sick with nerves. I’m not usually that nervous, but then I don’t usually interview authors of such calibre. I had to force down a few mouthfuls of toast, and took Moll for a walk, trying to work off my extreme nerves.
I knew I’d be all right once we got going, and I was, but the Before is always nerve racking. But she was a delight. An incredibly sharp mind - she’ll be 90 in September - and with an incredibly clear memory. She’s also a wicked mimic and has an endearingly rich gurgle of a laugh.
We wrapped up the interview and I felt really blessed to have talked to her. Shame we couldn’t meet in person, but what a privilege that was.
Read all about it in September’s issue of Cornwall Today!
And on Sunday we are singing at Heligan Gardens, taking part in the Wildworks Production of 100: The Day Our World Changed. This will be a unique day of remembrance and commemoration to mark the outbreak of World War 1. The day will re-tell and re-live the lives of the brave men who went to war and the families they left behind. It’s a day for the community, about the community and involving as much of the community as possible.
So come along if you can - from 1030 at Mevagissey Harbour and ending at 7pm at Heligan Gardens.
Wednesday, 23 July 2014
Typically, in the midst of all this amazing weather I am land locked. Well, maybe not locked exactly, but unable to get on the water.
This is partly because my sailing mates are absent, and also on dry land, but also because last week I gave two talks at the Penzance Literary Festival, which has grown since its inception 5 years ago to a really fabulous festival with so much going on it is wonderful - and not just literature but arts, music, and plenty for children.
Talk No 1 was about my exploits sailing and how I came to write about it. Mr B had rehearsed me I don’t know how many times, which was very helpful, and also meant I wasn’t quite so nervous, but I was still pretty wobbly beforehand. Unfortunately we got there to find there was no laptop. Luckily Tony had brought his as well as the stick with all my images on, so all was not lost.
The audience was smaller than I would have liked but very appreciative which was encouraging, so I felt less nervous about the next talk which was about the role of independent publishers - a Q&A session with myself and another friend as authors, and two publishers.
We started off well but lost direction somewhere in the middle, and I was dismayed to find that the two publishers who were there were at pains to say how much they do for their authors, whereas I have to do all my own marketing and selling which is very hard work.
So that was a bit dispiriting. But the best bit of the day was a swim off Battery Rocks in Penzance. The water was crystal clear and felt silky and cool to my overheated skin.
As I write, Al, who owns Snap, the lovely Dragon we crew, has just arrived with the boat, so we will get out on the water soon, and Mr B is on a train hurtling back towards Cornwall after a short absence. They will shortly all be safely gathered in - I hope…..
Wednesday, 16 July 2014
The other day I received a phone call which said Private Number. Usually these calls are from the hospital, or the doctor, so I answered it cautiously. A male voice said, “Is that Mrs B?”
“Who’s calling?” I said, rather tentatively.
It turned out to be the marine repair people - we’d taken the outboard in to be fixed and Mr B can never remember his number, so we gave mine instead. So that solved that mystery.
Then last night I rang my mum and she said, “I had the most vivid dream last night. You danced in saying you were getting married to Roger Federer!”
She told her carer in the morning, adding, “I’m not sure about the age gap” (over 20 years). Her carer laughed and pointed out, “to say nothing of the fact that he has a wife and four children.”
Mr B groaned when I told him. “I’ve got enough competition,” he said, “without adding Roger bloody Federer. I think I’d better have a word with your mum.”
So watch out Mum. Expect an irate call from Mr B asking if you can dream about slightly less high profile men in future where your daughter’s concerned.
“I’m not doing too badly,” I said cheerfully. “I was married to you yesterday, now I’m about to be married to Roger Federer. Who next?”
Mr B turned even paler (it wasn’t helping his hangover, nor the fact that I was about to put him on the train for a week’s absence). “I don’t think I’ll go away ever again,” he muttered. “I don’t know what’s going to happen by the time I get back.”
Though something tells me he doesn’t have to worry too much about Roger turning up on my doorstep. Not in the next week, anyway……
And on another note - I'm giving two talks at the Penzance Literary Festival. One tomorrow, Thursday 17th from 4-5pm at Penlee Coach House, on Sailing around Cornwall, and another on Sunday from 230 - 330 on getting published by an independent publisher. Come along if you can or keep your fingers crossed if you can't!
Wednesday, 9 July 2014
I’ve been so desperate to get out sailing, and so resenting the halt in progress I made last year, that doubts started to creep in about my abilities. In the company of others who had sailed all their lives, I felt woefully aware of my inexperience.
“Nonsense,” said Mr B. “You’re a natural.” But the doubts persisted, not helped by an outing a few weeks ago when someone whose boat I was on assumed that I didn’t know much about sailing and told me to sit out of the way in the corner.
Last Wednesday the forecast was good, so Mr B and I decided to go for my first sail on Piran. I was nervous, to say the least, as it’s 10 months since we last sailed her, and I was convinced that my mind would stay blank once we got on board.
Admittedly rigging her made my brain spin a bit - Mr B looked at me at one point and said, “Where does this go?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” I replied, and we both laughed.
But from the moment we stepped on board I felt fine. It all came back, as naturally as breathing. I tacked smoothly and without upset, and I couldn't believe it.
There was a nasty moment when the shoe came undone half way up the mast, and Mr B had to stand on deck and reach up the mast to tie it on - actually that happened twice - while I tried to keep the boat steady with gusty winds and a group of lasers setting off racing. But we managed it and had a wonderful sail to St Just and back.
Which just goes to show that having a go at things you’re terrified of is a Good Thing. My confidence has gone up several notches. And we’re hoping to go out this afternoon…..