Monday 5 August 1996. Grey skies this morning and the weathermen warned of thunder! But we had decided on Polperro and we set off despite the weather forecast.
Like many places in Cornwall, Polperro has a car park requiring a fairly long walk downhill along a single narrow road with buildings either side towering over you on ever increasingly tall hills. It eventually reaches - as they all do - the most beautiful cove and harbour, where one house at least seems to have a lifeboat, just in case!
Some towns become known for shoemaking. Others for an annual festival, or a well-loved foodstuff. Polperro is famous for not only its beauty, but its past associations with smuggling.
The harbour is divided into an inner and outer harbour as it has an L-shape and a wall further narrows the gap where it turns so that boats in the inner harbour are protected from heavy seas as much as possible. I did a drawing of the corner of the dividing wall and a couple of boats.
An old man asked if I'd let him watch. Sometimes I hate that - it's ok when things are going alright but if you make a mess of it you feel like an idiot ! Anyway, it was looking alright so I talked to him for a bit. He was a nice chap but his family were obviously embarrassed that he should talk to a stranger (and they don't come much stranger!) so he was dragged away. This was still in what I consider my early days of sketching, it's a bit fast and loose with the detail. In fact it's a bit totally missing the detail...
Next to where I was standing was a seafood stall with huge crabs displayed in tubs of ice. I couldn't help noticing the way the woman in charge of the stall just ripped the massive crabs apart, cracking the shell by breaking it in both hands.
The outer half of the harbour and the crowds on the harbour wall. You have to be quick to find somewhere to sit at Polperro. It's a very popular place and gets crowded very quickly.
For those who don't fancy walking back up the hill there are a couple of alternatives. One is the horse-drawn bus. A couple of women on the bus were wishing they could have a go instead of the horse I think. I definately heard one of them say, "he could pull me any day..."
We drove across Bodmin Moor to have tea at the Jamaica Inn at Bolventor. Dad had decided to leave his car for the week and Mum and Dad were travelling in Frank's car, being a bit worried at the way Frank seemed to ignore my brake lights until the last minute. Luckily the lanes were so narrow and twisty that I was concentrating on looking forward and I didn't notice how close he was getting! Jamaica Inn had become self-service and there was a grump of a witch behind the counter. As friendly as a cornered rat...
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