Lucky Knickers

The above picture is of my dear mate Viv cuddling Molls on one of our walks for Cornwall Today, taken at Roundwood Quay.

I’m not a superstitious person but where I do look for help is from my knickers and jewellery. That could be entirely misconstrued so stop snorting. I’m referring to the colour – or patterns – of those items of undergarments, to bring me luck or strength.

I have a favourite pair which is (or should that be ‘are’?) red with black spots and are used for occasions when I know I will be tested and need some courage. For instance, on the day I knew would be Pip’s last. The day of his service and last party. When going to interview Bill Bryson. No, actually I was wearing lemon coloured trousers so I had to wear white ones for those. But I wore my red spotty ones for a busy day with meetings and then giving a talk at Penzance Literary Festival. Or when I just have those wobbly days when I need a bit of secret support.

I also have some lucky jewellery – a lovely swan pendant that Pip made; some of his lovely Cornish tin pendants, and a lovely ring of my grandmother’s that I didn’t wear for ages as I was worried about losing it. Then a friend said, “Seems a shame not to wear it. Why not put it on when you go out?” So that’s what I do, and it means that wherever I go, she can come too.

Talking of superstitions, I don’t actually walk under ladders right now. Don’t want to tempt any more bad luck.

Any else have any superstitions?

Summer Solstice and on

On Monday we decided to take advantage of this glorious weather and headed over to St Agnes to see the sun go down for the summer solstice. As you can see, it did us proud: this is two of my friends having a quiet moment, watching the last of the sun's rays disappear. It really was very special and I was glad that for once I had the camera.

On Sunday we had a picnic over at Polly Joke on the north coast, one of our favourite places, and had to get home in time to go and see Fisherman's Friends. On the way back, we passed a lonely young figure plodding along the road (no pavements) and stopped to give him a lift.

It turned out the poor fellow had been camping in Newquay, been for a swim that morning and had his phone and money stolen. Further more, he had just started working at a fish and chip shop and was supposed to be there by 12 noon – when we picked him up it was already nearly 2pm and of course he couldn't contact them as he'd had his phone taken.

We went home via Truro (not exactly on our way but we couldn't let the poor fellow be even later) and headed off to see Fisherman's Friends. A great gathering at the sea shanty festival and hundreds of people enjoying the good weather. We topped that off with a drink in the pub on the way home, and had a mighty fine day.

Yesterday I said goodbye to the editor of Cornwall Today going on maternity leave and met the new editor. Then Molls and I went down to Helford and I had my first swim of the year.

Bliss!

Ch-ch-ch-changes....

As sung by the immortal David Bowie (for those of you young enough not to have grown up with his music) – changes are afoot here.

Firstly the result of Himself's coughing appears to have been by the drugs he's been taking for his prostate cancer. Oh, great. So he's been told to come off those straight away and have a month to clear his system before they put him on something else for the cancer.

I really hope to god it does help his breathing. It's exhausting, frustrating and debilitating for him to cough all the time, and for me it's incredibly difficult living with a cough like that that threatens to take over our lives. So fingers crossed on that one.

The second thing is that Kirstie Newton, the editor of Cornwall Today, goes on maternity leave at the end of this month, and Alex Wade, a highly respected journalist and writer, takes over the reins as acting editor over the next year. While I will miss Kirstie, I'm looking forward to working with Alex who sounds a fascinating character.

Thirdly, for any of you feeling a bit down, or in need of a change – try singing. I don't belong to a choir – that's a bit formal to describe us – but we are called The Suitcase Singers, and sing every Thursday for a couple of hours. The more I sing with Claire Ingleheart, our musical director, the more I enjoy it.

Last Saturday we had a gig in Flushing in the evening. Claire had done a workshop that afternoon with over 20 people and many of them stayed on for the gig. From there we went to the pub, relaxed with a drink for half an hour, and started singing again, sitting outside the pub.

It was a real example of singing crossing all kinds of boundaries. We sing a-capella (without music), and Claire chose several rounds that are easy for bystanders to learn but sound fabulous. We had a stag party that joined in (as she said, that could have gone either way but they joined in and had a wonderful time) and everyone who was in the pub came out and joined us, and gradually doors opened in the village and more and more people came to listen and join in.

It was a night I shall never forget. Hearing the melodies rise out over the sea, watching faces light up with the pure joy of the music, and a lightened atmosphere of sheer enjoyment. Claire is not only an incredibly talented musician, she is a great leader and knows how to manage large groups of people, which is vital in these instances.

It really was a night with a touch of pure magic.