Friday, 26 June 2009
Marazion, Inspiration and Alkatraz
Himself took this photo on Monday when I was interviewing a limner (someone who paints miniatures) in Marazion. The weather was perfect, and on the way down it was so still and clear that the two tankers out in Mounts Bay seemed to be suspended in the sky - a truly unforgettable sight (and one alas not recorded on camera).
Two dog walking friends of ours have recently lost their dogs which is always very sad. The first, Maggie, has at least got another, younger dog to keep her company which is some comfort. But Margaret, an indomitable Scot of hardy breeding and great cheer, greeted us the other day minus dog and explained that she'd had to have her Dougie put down as he had bone cancer. We expressed commiserations (in my case, tears already starting to dribble down my face like unwanted snails) and she continued brightly, “I wasn't going to get another dog but my family have said I should, and so have The Girls.” (The Girls are aged 69 and 82.)
“Good idea,” said Himself. “And there are lots of dogs in need of a good home.”
“Yes,” Margaret continued. “I thought I'd go to the Cinnamon Trust and perhaps the Rescue Centre at Hayle and see what they've got – I want an older dog, that doesnt need too much exercise.” She paused and looked at me with her head on one side, like a robin. “The thing is,” she said, “I'm 89. The dog could well outlive me!”
On that note we parted, still reeling from her announcement of her fine age. To meet her, you'd think she was in her late 70s. But 89?
She is a true inspiration.
And on another note – we had our first night camping in the van last Saturday. On Sunday morning, desperate to buy something for a picnic, we found ourselves in the hinterland of Newquay and were forced to go to a Costcutter supermarket in the middle of a holiday park.
Neither of us had ever been to one of these places before and lurched round it with an increasing sense of panic and despair, dodging the Bar and Tavern, the train rides, the Bingo hall and somewhat unhygienic looking pool.
Having shopped, I was (as ever) desperate to find the public toilets which involved further negotiation of the site, Himself getting increasingly ill tempered.
“My God,” he breathed. “It's like Alcatraz. Do you think we'll get out of here alive?”
Thankfully, as you will have realised, we did.