Half hour of fame

Last Thursday was a Bit Of A Day, as they say. In the morning I had a meeting about being sailing correspondent for Cornwall Today, and we planned the first six months to include a monthly column and a piece on boats, mostly by me but some are in the bag. That was very exciting and we’re both really looking forward to it.

I left there feeling drained, to various texts of encouragement, and shot home, ate vast amounts of food and had a lie down. Luckily the Radio Cornwall presenter was delayed as she was filming elsewhere, so I had a bit of time to collect myself and Moll and drove off to Carn Marth.

There I discovered that the representatives from the Carn Marth Trust were all friends from another of Claire’s choirs, and Miranda, who I’d been emailing, was a member of a barbershop choir that we both sang in years ago. And we all had dogs – in fact we ended up with Millie, Mollie and Miranda.

I really enjoyed the broadcast, though there were a couple of moments when I knew Mr B would be creasing himself. The first was when I was asked what the trig point was for. Now, I knew Mr B had told me something about this some time ago but could I remember it? I couldn’t really ask to dial a friend, 771 feet above sea level, with a microphone thrust in my face, so I muttered something about it being to do with measurements for OS maps. (Where are men when you need them, eh?)
Alan said I sounded very knowledgeable but I think he was probably being kind.

The next one was when I had to describe the view. Mr B well knows that I have no sense of direction. We were walking Moll on the cliffs at Bude once when I pointed to the cliffs in front of us. “Where’s that?” I said. “Is it Plymouth?”
He turned to me in astonishment. “PLYMOUTH?” he cried. “That’s on the opposite coast, and miles away.” We looked at each other, then started laughing till the tears ran down our faces. Since then Plymouth has become a byword….

So when I had to describe the view from the top of Carn Marth, I waved my arms around (as he knows well) and said arily, “Well, Falmouth’s over there,” (big sweep), “and “Bodmin Moor’s sort of over there,” (another sweep), “and Carn Brae’s over there!” (triumphantly, as I could actually see Carn Brae.)

So that was my half hour of fame which I thoroughly enjoyed. Shame about the sense of direction, but you can’t have everything in life.

Oh, and I heard I've been shortlisted for a worldwide poetry competition. MY!!!

Next week is Falmouth Regatta Week which means crewing in races. I am excited and terrified in equal measures.