I 'regret' to say - the 'regret' bit being in quotes, since it's a case of where else would
I go, being the ever-so-typical struggling s/e translator/interpreter, working in a niche business
in today's climate - that I am one of those forty-somethings who still lives at home with their
'par-uhnts'. However, over the last two decades or so I have largely been independent on the
holidays front, the last holiday I had with Mum and Dad being back at Easter 1980 - to my Aunt's
place in Sidmouth - well, that was a situation that obtained until just before Easter 2000, when
Mum at the time rather nervously suggested that I might go with them for a week on one of their
usual trips down to our friends' place in Kilkhampton, North Cornwall - I think she thought I
needed a break! In the event it went off OK, even though the experience was at first a strange
one after all those years. So, three years down the line, we opined that we'd give it another go
and this time I thought I'd take notes, which I have now turned into my first Weblog.
I don't intend to make blogging a habit. I don't think I could keep that up. However, I do
hope that anybody 'out there' who happens to come across this enjoys the read and maybe might
be inspired to take a trip to the area themselves - a trip that took me back two decades
in more ways than one.
Our first visit was to Sandymouth Bay. It was a dry start with heavy showers coming in from the Atlantic. I found hundreds of shellfish and the obligatory cuttlefish egg-case on the beach and also some 'Panorama'-joke-style 'spaghetti' seaweed. We were largely alone until towards the end of our time there there appeared a whole load of school-children (from Kent), which rather livened things up a bit. It dried up for a little while and we went on to Bude, where I showed Mum and Dad a part of the town they didn't know and I did, which seemed rather incredible to me. I bought Mum a present in the shape of an air-mail writing pad so she could write to Mary-Beth. We went on to the cliffs above Widemouth Bay where it rained heavily while we were in the car having a drink, but brightened up for the whole of the rest of the day. Dad went a bit close to the edge, which rather alarmed Mum, (he always does!) Our next stop was Week St. Mary where Mum posted some post-cards. We found a public conveniences there, which was unexpected for such a small community away from the main tourist area. Back in Kilkhampton in the evening, I had an evening stroll along the road towards Stibb, expecting to return along what I call 'the bank', but I took a wrong turning. However, I did make it back for not too much longer after nine.
There was a problem with Dad's car, (the exhaust), in the morning. Therefore I spent much of the early morning mooching semi-aimlessly around the village, (which asserts very strongly that it is a town!), planning my big day out in Holsworthy on the next day, while Dad disappeared off to Bude to have something done with the exhaust.
We eventually spent the rest of the day on a short excursion towards Bideford via the Hartland Point area. At Hartland Quay there were some dramatic cliffs and an above-average small museum which included telling the story of the development of coastal canyons, which was a real throw-back to a past life for a Geography graduate who had been on a field-trip down south-west. When I ascended the steps to the main body of the museum I felt a distinct change in atmosphere from the visitors at the top, the reason becoming obvious a little later when I came to sign the visitors' book. I was wearing my 'authentic sixties-style' Norwich City training top and there was a whole load of people from Ipswich that had obviously just signed the book (uh oh!) In fact I was in such a state of shock about this that I forgot actually to sign the book!
Our next stop was Westward Ho! where there was an excellent illustration of the way in which the big 'Atlantic draw' pushes the tides up the Bristol Channel area. The sea seemed to come in by circa twenty yards in not much more than five minutes, much to the benefit of some surfers there gathered. We had some chips of extraordinarily good quality for a mid-afternoon snack. By the way, we gave Clovelly a miss on the way, since it was far too expensive just to get into the village for our purposes at the time.
On our return to Kilkhampton in he evening I finally sorted out the bus times for Wednesday. although the post-mistress at Kilkhampton Post Office seemed rather confused by the lay-out of the time-table at first. I eventually made sense of it with Christine, though.
Before I go any further, I think I must now issue an urgent 'health warning' (ie. an it-doesn't-get-any-better-than-this-alert).
Mum and Dad disappeared with Christine to visit a former gardener who grew up near Kiel during the war, called Karin, while I disappeared off on the weekly market bus to Holsworthy, accompanied by a whole load of broadly-spoken farmers whom I had a great deal of difficulty understanding what they were saying – as became humorously obvious later on. I found it a very reasonable fare for a twenty-mile return journey (£2.49). On arriving in Holsworthy I at first got lost trying to re-trace my steps to a coffee morning/jumble sale going on in an obviously Art Deco public hall, which of course attracted my attention and ended up lost in the playing fields of a local school. Fortunately I made my way back to the centre of town in quite short order, where I continued 'casing the joint'. I was somewhat disappointed to find that there was no vinyl on offer at any of the market stalls – rather the usual dispiriting selection of 'greatest hits'-type CD's. However, my attention had been drawn to a charity shop supporting a local project to re-house stray German Shepherd Dogs, which I thought might be a good candidate for good, old vinyl – and boy was it good!
How does the idea of virtually mint-condition copies of, variously, 'Music To Watch Birds By', by The Bob Crewe Generation, orchestrated by the great Hutch Davie – an almost unbelievably cool slice of sixties Mod Lounge Swing and 'The Paris Collection', by Dollar – possibly their greatest ever album – for the grand total of £1.00 grab you? All this coupled with an insert in the latter of the poster that originally came with the album, also in mint condition. Well, it can be done as long as you make your way to Holsworthy.
On the way back to the bus back to Kilkhampton, I bought a pack-up lunch from the market consisting of a local speciality (a pastry case filled with onions, vegetables and garlic, topped with melted grated cheese, whose name slips my mind), 'millionaire's shortbread', dates, apples and Ben Shaws' imitation of 'Irn Bru' to celebrate on the bus. I offered a date to one of the farmers also on the back seat, (me being there as a good back-seat 'hoolie' should be!), and got something incomprehensible in return including the word 'Christmas' in there somewhere! (So I left it at that!)
Inspired by things 1980 and Parisian I did a bit of blues harp practice back 'home' (now here's a huge, big, massive 'aside') - One of the most incredible trips of all time I have been on was when I was to Paris at Derby College of Further Education (09.80-06.82) at the turn of October to November 1980 with the French (my lot) and Art classes. The Arty people no doubt thought all us linguists would be a frightfully staid and suburban crowd. However, I put them right on that score by taking my blues harp along with me, an instrument that was big news at the time, thanks to the likes of Nine Below Zero, The Fabulous Thunderbirds and the "Ska 'N B" band, Bad Manners, charting at the time with one of the records featured in my "From 'Sweet Sixteen' to 'Twenty-One Today' Top Twenty", 'Special Brew', and (literally?) blowing them all away, variously on the train and ferry there and back and in the lounge of the Hotel Star, Avenue Émile Zola, with my renditions of all the 'oldies' from the mid-sixties Mod period I was discovering as a Mod revivalist, mostly Yardbirds, Rolling Stones and Beatles material (how were we to know that the Beatles were going to gain unwanted renewed interest barely more than a month later with the death of John Lennon?). Posing around the cafés of Paris in my Mod gear and laying down all those classics was just the most! Incidentally, in a feature on music teaching in schools on the telly in the last few months, it was reported that recorders are being replaced by harmonicas and that the children think they're pretty cool, so we could be in line for another great Blues explosion just like the late seventies/early eighties, you never know - I then continued on to Bude, also by bus (£1.50), to complete the day out by sending E-Mails from the excellent library to Bill and Alan Connor-Clark and then to lounge on Summerleaze Beach for a while (well, I was on holiday!) before returning to Kilkhampton. Disappointingly, since I was in the Mod gear, there weren't any fifty-strong gangs of drug-crazed bikers there so we could stage a beach-fight, with me taking them all on without loosening my tie. Actually, don't worry, I never got up to those sorts of goings-on in any case.
Alec very kindly let me use his vertical turntable machine to do a sound test in the evening that was a case of flying colours for both records. Not only that, they were indeed pretty good stuff. I don't believe that I spent twenty-three years of my life without the likes of 'The Paris Collection' – just because of ultimately stupid youthful hang-ups about cred. It's almost cruel that two such glam personalities should also be so talented as to turn out what is an almost perfect Pop LP – OK, so admittedly it all started out with me, (possibly in common with many young Mod Revivalists of the time), basically fantasising about getting off with Thereze Bazar, (and who could blame us!) after that 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand' video, which did the rounds of 'Top Of The Pops' at the turn of the seventies to the eighties - but now it definitely has gone way way beyond that! Well, everything's got to start somewhere! Furthermore, it is also amazing that that Bob Crewe Generation record – and that sixties 'Lounge Music' is absolutely hot property at the moment – I could see it going down a storm at a Mod club, say in a sort of chill-out room - was going so cheaply. I think that's what you call a day-and-a-half's vinyl collecting!
I nearly had a disaster at the beginning of the day when, in my attempt to go to the toilet, I locked myself out of the house and had to get Mum out of bed to let me back in again. It turned out that there was toilet paper in the inside toilet all the time and I think I panicked a bit. I think, considering that this was the nearest I got to something like a 'disaster', that this was a pretty good record by my usual standards! (Although note my attempt at alighting from a bus on my final day there) I played with Laddie and Jill (with the ball) for a short while before breakfast. Laddie is a bit of a 'one' with that ball. He just won't let it go and growls so violently when he is refusing to give it back to you and also attempts, (with little success!), to get the ball off Jill if she gets it first, which she almost invariably does!
We went into Bude to begin with to get advance tickets for the Eden Project, which was our target for the day, being as heavy rain was forecast and that's as good a place to go as any under those circumstances. The journey to and from the E.P. was indeed fairly 'moist' to say the least! My overall impression of the E.P., after having actually been there, is as follows:
Although the Humid/Tropical Biome is the bigger of the two 'greenhouses' the sense of scale was somewhat diminished by the sheer mass of vegetation.
One gets the exact opposite impression in the Arid/Mediterranean Biome, which I found the more pleasant of the two – not due to the most readily apparent reason of the micro-climate; rather that there was an overwhelming sense of over-crowding in the former, possibly due to the relative narrowness of the walkways there. This was, don't forget, in the middle of May. What it gets like in July/August is anybody's guess!
As an educational resource for school trips and the like the E.P. is, if it isn't second to none, certainly second to a very few similar resources. However, I would be forced to recommend it only with reservations as a straightforward, out-and-out tourist attraction, since I don't think that the broad mass of visitors could take it all in.
It probably goes without saying that the Outdoor Biome was off-limits on the occasion of our particular visit, so I'll pass on passing judgement on that.
In summary, although preconceptions are, almost by definition, a dangerous matter, I would say that I was impressed. However, I was not as awe-struck as I thought I might have been. However, the weather – inclement as it was to put it mildly – may lead us to adopt perhaps a more charitable stance vis-à-vis the E.P., since it hardly helped the general frame of mind. As a parting shot, as a translator by trade I was unimpressed with the lack of information at the displays in foreign languages, especially if the E.P. is attempting to sell itself on the international stage. Maybe there's some work for me there, (I hope!)
On the final day, we had a late start (10.50 am) on another rather 'moist' morning. Once again, played with Laddie and Jill in the morning, before we departed. Laddie had his usual nightmare start, but improved and was much better behaved on this occasion! I put comments in Alec and Christine's visitors' book regarding my 'disc-overy', with the comments, inspired by the television programme 'Reborn In The USA', 'Dollar: Reborn In Holsworthy'.
The tour on the last day was a sort of tootle along the coast via Widemouth Bay, Boscastle, Tintagel, Port Isaac and Port Gaverne. On approaching Boscastle it became obvious that the weather wasn't going to be anywhere nearly as inclement as it had at first threatened to be. In fact, until we got to Port Gaverne it didn't really cloud back over, so we got away with it, as it were. In Boscastle, we met a couple from Wales which caused Dad to recall his Welsh sports master at Worcester College. I wasn't really sure if it meant a great deal to them, though! There were superb rock formations in the cliffs, (shale shot with granite) and ample opportunities to engage in a favourite activity of mine – German number-plate spotting, including a 'WAF' (Warendorf – near Osnabrück), 'IZ' (Itzehoe, near Kiel) and 'SHA' (Schwäbisch-Hall). We stopped for lunch near the King Arthur's Castle Hotel (or was it The Camelot Hotel? – it depends on which sign you believe!) in Tintagel, where we met another couple, this time from Grimsby. In my conversation with them it transpired that the place had gone downhill since I was there on a rail trip back in the Spring of 1992. Some of 'Mum's' goldfinches put in an appearance, although I wasn't sure if it was the same 'charm' as Mum saw there several months back! Port Isaac was a case of 'just passing through', but we stopped at Port Gaverne for coffee and the last encounter with the sea (for Mum and Dad – I had another brief one to go) and quite dramatic it was too – water crashing against the rocks in fairly grand fashion – then it was off on the last lap (for Mum and Dad) and the penultimate one for me. I was dropped off in Bude to catch the bus to Kilkhampton at length. This was my last go at the library. I sent a message to Alan Connor-Clark regarding my sound test, subject-lined 'Dollar: Reborn In Holsworthy', inspired by my remarks in the visitors' book. I also had an opportunity to pick up some 'Cornwall Rock' for 'The Family' and to get some socks from the 'famous' discount shop (seven pairs for £4.25 in total!). I had a brief glance at the sea at Summerleaze Beach for one last time before catching the bus back to Kilkhampton. I was amazed to see, on the bus journey back, mist shrouding the hills around Poughill and Stibb – totally different from most of the rest of the day. I did have another slight mishap as I was alighting from the bus when the door shot open back into the body of the bus as I was bending my head down, (being a fairly tall thing!), to go down the steps and was cracked on the head. Fortunately, it wasn't too bad and I was soon back in the land of the living. It could have been a lot worse – just like the whole of the rest of a pretty successful expedition for me in the event!
Since my return from Cornwall - this is being written on 19.06.2003 - the 'stand-outs' I
have especially picked out on 'The Paris Collection' are the opening track, 'Radio', which has
a Doo-Wop-style intro and another similar passage in a sort of false ending - real 'up my street'
music for a bit of a Doo-Wop aficionado like me, 'Young Love'; a near-solo performance from
Thereza (the name-spelling changed some time in 1980, as far as I can tell, in case anybody
picks out any discrepancies) which calls to mind the early Madonna some half a decade later,
with a similarly magnificently sexy, 'breaky' delivery and 'Ebony', a sort of sixties Motown
meets the Bay City Rollers' 'Bye Bye Baby'; really deliciously danceable fare.
On 'Music To Watch Birds By' the track that really grabs me is 'Streetcar'. It's almost
Psychedelic and a real trip.
I also seem to be hitting a golden seam on the blues harp playing - even managing to match
(well, sort of!) Mark Feltham's oral fireworks on 'Riding On The L & N', from Nine Below
Zero's 'Live At The Marquee' album - another 1980 classic - just the other night. My lips were
bleeding afterwards - but hey, this is the Blues and you've just got to
spill blood for it - literally!