The Helford

 

First of all, welcome to blogland to Himself (finally up and running!) and This Painting Life – a very talented painter friend of mine - see links on RHS.

The above picture was taken the other afternoon when Himself came with me (and Moll, of course) on a A Long Walk (for Himself) – an hour and a half’s steep walk through woods down to a secluded (dog friendly) beach, then along the coast to Mawnan Church and back along the road.

It was a good afternoon of eavesdropping as the path seemed to be littered with elderly walkers, the beach with young mums with children and dogs. The best conversation, though, goes to an elderly American whose voice preceded his brand new walking boots on a particularly steep part of cliff.

‘I keep tripping over my feet,’ said the disembodied voice rounding the corner. ‘And I mean, literally. My feet have – kinda – a mind of their own, and I trip right over them.’

‘Oh dear,’ said his friend who’d just come into view. He had that exhausted, defeated look of wishing he’d never suggested a walk with the loud voiced American and was looking wistfully over the cliffs to see how far down it was to the rocks below…