Hanging with Kings, Witches and Criminals (literally)

I asked ManpanionTM to name this 
essential item of breakfast tableware - 
he said "It's a Toast Comb"
He's not wrong, is he?

Time to relax into being a complete tourist today.  The plan was to focus on two of the classic touristy highlights of the north Cornish coast - a trip to see King Arthur's Castle in Tintagel, followed by one of my all time favorite spots, Boscastle Harbor.  We had a tasty breakfast at the hotel (robust sourdough toast this morning) and I spent a bit of time blogging, while ManpanionTM caught up on some work email (I remember those - heh heh).  The castle didn't open until 10am and is about a half hour's drive from Bodmin, so we enjoyed a nice leisurely start to the day.

The weather was still being ridiculously cooperative - just as well, as doing the Castle in shitty weather would be No Fun At All.  I remembered Tintagel as total tourist heaven, full of tacky gift shops and ice-cream places - and I'm happy to report it hasn't changed at all!!  Still as cheesy and unapologetically touristy as ever.  As it is still the offseason in Cornwall - and it was a Tuesday morning - the traffic was not bad at all and we found a parking space no problem.  I recall how completely gridlocked it could become in the summer - it could take you 10 mins just to wait for a break in the traffic to cross the road!  And the traffic chaos that just one caravan could cause?? Don't get me started...

Anyway, I'd already pre-booked our tickets for our visit to the castle, so it was easy to find the entrance and start the walk down the slope towards the entrance to the site.  It was so steep, you had to lean backwards by at least 30 degrees otherwise you would just topple over forwards!  Again, ManpanionTM expressed gratitude that we were not attempting to do this visit in the rain.  Me too.  My 51yr old knees were already starting to squawk a little, so I was also grateful to not have to worry about slipping on my ass to the mix too.

So up until this point, everything I've revisited on this trip as an adult has been smaller than my childhood memory's recollection.  Not so, Tintagel Castle.  The whole site was way, way bigger than I remembered!  I don't know if I was just a lazy sod when I visited as a kid and only did the "main" part of the castle, but there was a big loop up on the clifftop that I didn't remember at all.  There was a new bridge that had been opened up a couple of years ago which meant that now you no longer have to take the hazardous (and lung-busting) stairs down - and back up the other side again!  I do remember going down to the beach and exploring the cave on the left hand side - I was always mildly terrified that we would lose track of time and get cut off by the incoming tide (of course, that never happened).  I also didn't really remember the views being so spectacular - but I think that is also a function of getting older and developing more of an appreciation of natural beauty, as well as just not taking it for granted anymore cos you live there.  Clearly, moving away from Cornwall for the last 30yrs has led me to develop a new-found appreciation for just how stunning the scenery is - it really is very very lovely indeed.  

Just part of the whole castle complex

well, well, well....

Very impressed how committed these
guys were to getting the perfect selfie..

Stunning views from the top

Obligatory selfie

As well as the photo of me taking a photo

We spent about an hour wandering about, enjoying the views and the warm sunshine, before starting the trek back to the car park.  Using the excuse of "its a new experience!", I convinced ManpanionTM to opt for the Landrover option, vs slogging there on shank's pony.  It took just a couple of mins and felt like a Very Good Call, by the time we made it to the top.  

We had no shame at taking this option back up the 
crazy steep hill. A solid way to spend 2.50GBP.

The Olde Post Office

A light lunch

After Tintagel (saying hello to the Old Post Office on our way back to the Car Park), it was time to drive over to Boscastle - both for a planned lunch stop at the Cobweb Inn as well as a visit to the Witchcraft Museum.  We effed up the GPS directions a bit so ended up approaching the harbor by a very backroad route where the roads were soooooooo narrow - it was ridiculous!!  But we eventually made it (slowly, slowly) and didn't hit anything, so parked up and headed into the Cobweb Inn for lunch.  After asking the barmaid for recommendations, we opted for the steak and ale pie and the fish & chips - so two light, healthy choices!  Both were deeeelicious but holy shit - the portions were INSANE!  Each plate could have fed a family of four!  

Just THINK of all the dusting!  Bottles hanging from 
the ceiling in the Cobweb Inn - oh wait... I guess they 
chose that name for a reason....

So we did our best and then staggered out, tum full, ready for a visit to the weird and wonderful Museum of Witchcraft and Magic - the largest such repository of magical artifacts and sumsuch in the world.  

The Witchcraft museum

Here's the link so you can check it out  https://museumofwitchcraftandmagic.co.uk/- it was as you'd probably expect - full of witchy paraphernalia as well as lots of stories of local Cornish witches and the various spells that could be cast to bring you either luck or misfortune.  It was really quite interesting - and lots of great outfits.  I think its really all about the fashion, tbh.  The golden circlets and feathered nature-themed headdresses?  *chef's kiss*

Scold's bridle - ManpanionTM was
very interested in this exhibit for some reason...

I dunno man - these all sound pretty
reasonable to me...

Of course we had to have a go...

ManpanionTM got Temperance

And I got the High Priestess

By the time we came out of the museum. the weather had started to turn just a little bit - the sun had disappeared behind thick cloud, so the temperature had dropped quite a bit and the wind had some bite to it.  We walked along the harbor front just a bit more, to see the harbor entrance and the boats moored up, before turning round and heading home.  We stopped at a bakery on the way back to the car park to buy some pasties for supper (and some scones and clotted cream -yey!) (dinner at the hotel was good - but not two nights in a row good).  We got back at 3.30pm, just in time for a quick power nap, before the prison tour that we had booked for 4pm.  

Now THIS is far more usual.  Add some sideways
rain, a bone-chilling wind and you've got a typical
summer's day

On the bridge on the river leading down to the harbor.
So pretty.

Charming way to use an old telephone box.

At just before 4pm, we headed down to reception to wait for our tour - we'd assumed (cos no-one told us otherwise) that it would be leaving from reception, led by some scholarly looking chap with a clipboard.  By 4.02pm, we thought we'd double check with the receptionist (the same one who had confirmed our place on the 4pm tour before we'd left for the day) and so NOW she tells us that it leaves from the "Bodmin Jail Experience" which is on the other side of the building!  FFS, lady!  You could have given us a heads- up in the morning!!!  When we finally got there (after a couple of false starts making our way through the building), it was locked up tight!!  WTF?!!!  It was 4.05pm so we were precisely 5mins late for a tour that was estimated to last for 90mins and it was already locked??  This would Just Not Do.  So I pounded on the door until someone came to open it up - I then explained the situation, calmly but firmly, until they relented and let us in (apparently we should have turned up at 3.50pm for a 4pm tour).  And we found out they DID have us on their list of booked guests (the only ones, I might add!) - so why they didn't call the hotel or something to see if we were coming was beyond us.  Crappy communication all round, tbh.

Anyway, whatever - we got in and started the tour.  The first bit was the "experience" - think London Dungeon style exhibits with story telling and models & sets that brought 1800's Bodmin to life.  It was a bit cheesy but actually really well-done, with no expense spared.  The heavy mist/spray when the ship was being deliberated run aground by pirates was a nice touch, as was the flayed corpse hung overhead in a metal cage.  All good, clean fun.

After the experience bit, the rest of the exhibit was through some of the original jail cells that had been preserved, with more stories of what life was like in the jail over the years, touching back on some of the character's stories we'd been introduced to previously.  Also mentioned was the Beast of Bodmin (real or imagined? you decide....) as well as all the various paranormal activities that have been reported in the jail.  It would have been interesting to learn more about the renovation and refurbishment of the decrepit derelict jail into its current iteration - but none of that information was included, which was a shame.  I guess I'm just nosy - just how much did it cost to knock down all those walls and install 50 or so bathrooms?  But it did finish up with fairly realistic dramatization of a hanging, so that was also entertaining.

After the museum, we headed back to our room to chill out for a bit until it was time to meet with Daniel for drinks and a catch-up.  Daniel was a contemporary of my sister's and was in the year ahead of me - we'[d kept in touch via Facebook and this blog (anyone else remember the bear swimsuit) but hadn't met IRL since I'd left Camelford for Bristol University, back in 1990.  He came on up to our room, after he arrived, as he was interested in the hotel renovation - and it was so fun to see him!  It was "hey there - so, what have you been up to for the last 30 years??".  We ended up shooting the breeze for a couple of hours, before he headed home and we went back to our room to enjoy a late night bed pasty picnic.  Tomorrow, we bid farewell to north Cornwall and head south - an area that I'm far less familiar with.  We have another couple of touristy places on the docket (neither of which I've been to before) so I'm looking forward to a fun, last day in Cornwall before heading off to Cambridge.  This trip is flying by fast!!

All the Feels in Camelford

I wasn't sure how I was going to feel, returning to the small Cornish town in which I grew up, 30 some years ago.  Turns out, I was still fond of the old place.

And now I feel sad.

For a bit of background, we moved from a fairly posh London suburban town (Godalming, darling) when I was 6 yrs old to Camelford in Cornwall, where Mum ran a guest house called Kings Acre (ably assisted by our cousin, Janice) while Dad commuted back & forth to London as a Station Officer in the London Fire Brigade.  It made for a rather unique childhood, helping Mum to check guests in each week and building obstacle courses in the back garden (which was a least an acre... hence the name) for the more adventurous of our residents.   Like most things, it was a bit of a mixed bag - the fun bits of having a giant house as your entire playground, off season, plus that huge garden with trees to climb and explore (we kept two goats to keep the grass down).  Offset with the not so fun bits of having to move out of that giant house come the summer season plus a bunch of strangers taking your Mum's time and attention away from your Very Important 7yr Old's Needs.  We would decamp into one of the 3 caravans in the grounds - no plumbed in loos, so if you needed a wee in the middle of the night, it was either the Pee Bucket in the cupboard or you took your chances with stepping on giant, orange-frilled slugs on the path over to the house.  That sensation, of a slimy slug popping and schmearing underfoot, is one that is not easily forgotten.  Shudder.

As my sister and I got older and started secondary school, Mum wanted to spend more time with us so we sold the guest house when I was about 11 or 12, and moved into our place on Mill Lane, a regular house on a little, quiet cul-de-sac, built into a hill overlooking the town park, Enfield Park.  It was a lovely place and had the quirk of being an upside-down house where you entered the main living space from the front, then went downstairs to where all the bedrooms were. Built into and at the top of a hill, it also had a large back garden - this time, a little bit that was level, before the main part of it descending in a steep slope from the house, all the way down to the park.  It was pretty much wild and I remember hacking my way through chest high ferns (the ones with the little coppery nuggets on the back of the leaves) to get from our house, down to the little wooden sty gate right at the bottom, and into the park.  In that same steep garden is the tree I used to have to climb up to escape the psychotic goat, Billy (I know), that HATED my guts and used to charge at me, full pelt, from the top of the hill as soon as he saw me enter in the field at the bottom.  It was a race to the tree in the middle to see if I could get there first before he would headbutt the shit out of me.  Our loathing was mutual.  Even today, I hate all goats - and they hate me too.  Stupid goat.  But its OK.  I'm over it now.  Really. 

I left Cornwall at the age of 18 to go to University.  I'm sure I probably did come home a few times for holidays after that but by the time I started my PhD, I'd pretty much left for good (and soon after the rest of the family joined me in Cambridge, so that was that!).  So it's been a minute since I've been back and I was very curious to see what had changed and how I would feel about it all.

Nom nom nom.

We started the day with a full Cornish from the Scarlet Hotel to round out our very enjoyable experience there.  I'd booked a taxi to pick us up at 9.30am to take us back to the airport to collect our rental car for the next few days (yes - that does mean I have 2 car rentals running concurrently RN - bizarrely enough, it was actually cheaper to do it way!).  First decision point of the day - do I go with the smaller, manual transmission car (helpfully pre-scratched this time) or the larger automatic transmission SUV?  Two competing factors at play here - 1) the roads in Cornwall are even smaller, steeper and generally more AAARRGGHH than those we'd enjoyed so far on this trip.  2) I've been driving automatic cars for the last 20yrs since moving to the US, so was not sure how rusty my clutch control skillz were.  In the end, I plumped for the smaller car - and I'm glad I did.  My driving skills were just fine (I'm clearly tapping into my residual UK driving mojo) and the roads feel even narrower than I remember.  I've obviously been spoiled driving on fat American roads.

Today's itinerary was a bit loose, with a vague intention of exploring a bit of the North Cornish coast before heading over to Camelford at some point.  Driving up from Newquay, I decided first to take ManpanionTM to Polzeath, a lovely beach where we used to spent a lot of time in the summer as kids.  It was just as I remembered it - especially the bit where you park on the actual sands themselves, paying attention to the signs that urge you to make sure you get your car before the tide comes in or it might get washed away!  We also go to another beach next door called Daymer Bay - this one was smaller, less touristy and equally as lovely.  I'm not a huge beach fan (I don't like how the sand gets everywhere) but my sister was always in her element on the beach and in the water, so I have very happy memories of time spent at Polzeath and Daymer Bay (not forgetting the Mr Whippy ice-creams, of course).

Despite this, some idiots STILL get swept away.

Polzeath beach

Next up on my Childhood Reminiscence Tour was a stop at Port Isaac, an historic fishing village that has gained recognition more recently for appearing on the UK series Doc Martin.  We parked up at the main Car Park (4.50GBP to park!!) and walked down into the village.  Ay carumba!  This was ManpanionTM's first real exposure to the insane steepness of Cornish roads and a reminder for me!  It was SOOOOOOO steep!!!!  And ridiculously narrow!!!  Just brilliant.  ManpanionTM was in a bit of shock, I think as he kept saying "well, thank goodness it isn't raining..." - the combination of both verticality and slipperyness would have been too much for his little American legs!  

One of those stupidly named cars!  In the wild!!

Anyway, after only about 10mins, we reached the bottom and the lovely harbor - with all those attendant harbor smells.  The tide was out when we were there (it was about 11am at this point) so there were just two fishing trawlers lying beached in the harbor, anchored with big rusty looking chains.  I'm sure all the shops are different from my day, but otherwise, it didn't feel as if it had changed much.  There were quite a few visitors around and its now more of a tourist destination than active fishing port but it had a certain timelessness to it that I remember well.  I'm not sure why I used to like Port Isaac so much (or even how often I used to go there, tbh) - I think in my mind it was the quintessential Cornish Fishing Village, so it was emblematic in some way.  

Let's go!!  First stop on our 
coastal tour...

Oh yes.  Now I remember.
Cornish hills.  

ManpanionTM was getting increasingly
squeaky about the narrowness of these
streets

All the smells with the lobster pots

Tides out, sun's out.

View of Port Isaac harbor

Just loving the fish handshake logo!

We wandered about for a bit, enjoying the sights (and smells) before starting our slog back up the hill.  It really wasn't too bad (just one foot in front of the other) so it didn't take us too long to get back to the car.  Next to the car park was a recreation park, where some swarthy chaps were dismantling three red-striped pointy circus type tents - apparently we had just missed the Port Isaac Sea Shanty festival, which had taken place over the weekend.  Shame, really as that would have been an amazing experience for ManpanionTM.  But never mind.  By this point, it was coming up to lunchtime, so I decided to shift our intended visit to Boscastle and Tintagel to the next day and instead head for Camelford, to check out the place, maybe get some lunch in one of the pubs and then pay a visit to George & Pat, old friends of the family.

Look where we are, Mum!!!

It was kinda weird picking up the familiar road signs and places, so there was a LOT of squeaking from me as we got closer.  "OMG - DELABOLE!!!  The place with the HOLE!!"  "Wadebridge!"  "BODMIN!".  You get the idea.  As we start getting closer to Camelford, I turned to say to ManpanionTM "well, depending on which end of Camelford we are coming in, we should see Kings Acre on the left hand side".  No sooner had those words left my mouth, then I spotted twin peaked rooftops poking up above the trees on my left - and we were there! 

Hello, old friend!

It was quite surreal and I was pleasantly surprised by the fond feelings that the sight of the old place brought up.  In my memory, it had this rather stately air about it, standing proud and resolute - now, with it in front of me, it evoked those same impressions - but it did feel a little bit, well, smaller than it did when I was a kid. Not quite as imposing as I remember.  Some of it was the same - the main house, the garage next door that Dad had converted into a living/play space for me and my sister (but which we were a bit scared to use because of all the GIANT brown wolf spiders that stubbornly refused to leave) and the front garden.  

Moving round the back and sides of the property, though, it had all changed.  There were multiple new buildings and extensions and fences. The caravans we used to live in had all gone (understandably - they were a bit knackered when we lived in them) and the back acreage of land was unrecognizable from the wide open space that we used to play in and get chased by our goats.  The little raised bed garden that used to be off by the side of the house was no more - and I wondered whether they had discovered all the pets we had buried there (RIP Kimmy).  I didn't see the bank with the line of ash trees we used to climb in so I think they had been cut down - but the old well was still there.  Unfortunately, we didn't get to look round the main house but we did meet a lovely lady called Linda who had bought the place from the people we had sold it to.  So it was nice to reminisce with her a bit.

The back of Kings Acre - everything to the right of the 
fence (including the fence) was new

Converted garage that is undoubtedly STILL
full of giant child-eating spiders

So that was Kings Acre.  And then it was time to head into Camelford itself.   We made our way past my old school on the left ("there's Sir Jims!") and to the top of the high street, it all came flooding back.  I remembered these roads like the back of my hand.  No GPS required.  As the Co-Op at the top end of the high street came into view (past the village hall on the right) the first inkling that Something Wasn't Quite Right starting to surface.  I had spent a summer working at the Co-Op as a teenager on the check-out tills and stacking shelves (and also getting interviewed by the police after having been falsely suspected of theft - FUN) and while it was never as fancy as Waitrose (the UK version of Whole Foods), it was nice enough and always busy.  Now, driving past it, it looked downtrodden, a bit dirty and old.  As we continued to drive down the hill, through the town, it became apparent that a lot had changed in my 30 years away - namely, where are all the shops?  Where are all the people?  Where has the life in this town gone?  It was a Monday lunchtime and the town was dead.  Hardly anyone around and, of the few shops that remained, most were closed. 

Everywhere, boarded up shops and hardly any people.

I discovered then that I had more affection for the place that I realized as it was heartbreaking to look at what had been such a vibrant, lively town and see the hollowed-out husk of a place it had become.  The SPAR shop was still there - but inside it was now more like a service station or 7/11, rather than the proper little convenience grocery store it had once been.  It was symbolic that the largest, most prominent storefront on the whole high street was, in fact, an undertaker and funeral home.  Talk about depressing.  Also depressing was the state of our second house in Mill Lane - it wasn't super fancy before, but the street was nice and well kept when we lived there.  Now, the road was full of pot holes and all of the houses on our old street looked tired and a bit run down.  Our old house had weeds growing in the driveway, mildew on the walls and the amazing view of the valley and park below were obscured by an ugly brown fence.  That also made me feel sad.  The park was still nice, though - so that was something, at least.

Former site of many a great Pooh Stick battle.

In my childhood memory, this 
part of the river was a raging torrent.

Enfield Park is actually, genuinely really nice.  
Not sure who that weird creeper behind me is, though.

Back garden of our old house on Mill Lane (which you can 
just make out) - mid way up this tangled mess is the tree I used 
to seek refuge in.  Fucking Billy.

Our secret entrance to & from the park
as kids.  A woodland douche pass, as it were.

Do some fucking weeding you slobs!  Grrr.

My old school.  Didn't look around too much - but many happy 
memories playing badminton in the covered court with 
Mr Durham (aka the Pirate King)

We looked in vain for somewhere to have lunch but the two pubs I remember fondly (the Mason Arms and the Darlington) were now both shut.  Talking later with George and Pat, they gave us a breakdown of how the town started to die out after the three banks left, each within a few months of each other.  We ended up taking a short little trip out of town, to the Old Inn at St Breward, on the fringes of Bodmin Moor.  I had a sausage and egg bap and ManpanionTM had his first Ploughmans (with a side of chips fried in beef dripping - yum!).  I also bought him a pack of Scampi Fries to try later - so I'll let you know what he makes of that gastronomic experience.  

The weather was still glorious (THANK YOU, weather gods!) and after lunch we headed back into Camelford to visit with George and Pat for an hour.  It was so great to see them - we had spent many fun hours with the Brown family growing up (especially playing charades at New Year) and G&P were in the same house that I remembered, so it really was like stepping back in time 30yrs!!!  They were both doing great and we heard about what everyone was up to, so it was a really nice way to finish out our time in Camelford, reliving some fonder memories and offsetting the sadness of seeing the town's decline.

After our visit, it was time to head over to Bodmin where we were going to be spending the next two nights, and check into the Bodmin Jail Hotel!  I've stayed in many interesting and unusual places over the course of the years - but staying in a converted jail is going to be a new one for me!