Ages ago... 11 months to be precise (blush) I somehow managed to get diverted from a series of entries about our 1989 holiday in Cornwall, the south western bit of England that juts out into the Atlantic.
So for all you readers that have been waiting patiently for the next instalment - here it is.
Thursday 10 August 1989. We found ourselves in the gorgeous village of Polperro. It didn't come as much of a surprise because we had deliberately set out to go there...
Polperro, for anyone not familiar with it, is a village of ancient shops, inns and cottages clustered around the hills and cliffs surrounding the harbour and is reached down a long sloping road from the car park at the top of the hill. The only cars allowed down the hill are those of residents, whether permanent or tourists staying in accomodation in the village.
It has a tradition of smuggling in the past. In the 17th to 19th centuries this place was full of short bow-legged swarthy men in black and white striped t-shirts with barrels of illicit port and rum over one shoulder and a parrot on the other. They probably had a pipe in the corner of their mouths and only one eye. Or was that Popeye I'm thinking of...?
Fran and Gill have a look at the smallest shop in England. Didn't take long... The place is full of inns, fascinating nooks and crannies, inns, tea shops, inns, boats bobbing in the harbour, inns...
It's a wonder the inhabitants were ever able to go down to the sea to do a bit of smuggling - they must have been permanently three sheets to the wind... Well I suppose they had to do something with all that smuggled brandy...
Oh, and scrumpy of course! From Wikipedia: "Scrumpy" is a term often used for ciders made in South West England. Scrumpy can be dry or sweet, however tends to be stronger in alcohol and more tannic than most commercial ciders.
The modern equivalent of a barrel isn't anything to write home about, however the nautical nature of the village is well captured here! Buy a gallon of Dead Dick's Scrumpy! Drink a gallon and join Dead Dick...
The Old Forge no longer fires up the bellows, but instead forms the entrance to the Model Village. This isn't your ordinary collection of model houses which starts as the gentleman of the house's way of justifying his outdoor model train set, but a faithful recreation of the entire village of Polperro in miniature. Worth seeing, if only for the model of the model village... seriously...
There are two harbours at Polperro - an inner and an outer, which leads to the sea. We see the outer harbour above with boats to take tourists for a half hour cruise along the rocky coast. (Don't get on the wrong one, you'll find yourself expected to help carry brandy barrels up a winding cliff pathway...)
The inner harbour has a fish landing stage and a house which has a lifeboat hanging from davits over the harbour! Not that the house has ever had to be abandoned that way as far as I know... But if it did ever sink in a storm, the inhabitants could rest easy in the knowledge that they'd be able to get out safely!
The Pottery Shop has a novel sign above the doorway! Polperro also throngs with artists during the summer. You will find plenty of them slapping Dulux onto canvas boards. Whilst I only started my own sketching efforts the year after this trip, I have returned to do a few pencil sketches which you can find in articles from the Sketching and Artwork Index on the blog.
Did I mention there were inns? Here's one that advertised a Childrens' Room on the first floor. I nipped up to look at the sad sight of all those 5 and 6 year olds, sleeping off the effects of a half pint tankard of Dead Dick's Scrumpy...
There was a shout... Fran and Gill had climbed onto a horse-drawn bus which would take them back up the hill to the car park. I had to trot along behind them wearing my legs out (no wonder they are short!) and taking pictures to prove their laziness...
No comments:
Post a Comment
All comments must be passed by moderator before appearing on this post.