Although Boscastle wasn't on my itinerary, after we arrived in Port Isaac we heard of it several times ... people saying to go there. So one day we took the bus from Port Isaac (at the top of the steep hill) to the quaint, small village of Boscastle that was also a cove.
I took photos of the drive through the bus windows, and even had the 'flaming' driver on the way back that we'd had returning from Tintagel earlier in the week. Only this time he had pink fingernails whereas before they were ruby red. :) He lives in Tintagel, a very entertaining and informative driver. Nice guy, someone that would be fun to know.
At The Riverside Inn (owners - Peter and Margaret Templar), we had lunch at the hotel restaurant/tearoom & Garden overlooking the River Valency (we call them creeks here) in Boscastle. We met the proprietor, Peter, a really nice man. His son also works there. In fact I took a pic of Peter as we were leaving while he was on the phone. Wonderful food, wonderful relaxing restaurant with lovely ambiance.
There's also a pic of the owner of The Leather Shop in Boscastle holding up a handmade journal, his wife made the paper and the fabric of the cover. I bought it, the last of its kind, she won't be making any more. Now she only makes dolls, first collection (more to come) called The Woodland Collection . . .
"Inspiration for this collection is drawn from the magical woodlands of North Cornwall incorporating the textures and hues that mirror its natural beauty. THE BRACKEN have been individually created using embellished handmade fabrics. Their characters and personalties develop in the making with time and care taken to ensure each one is unique. All THE BRACKEN have a name carefully chosen to be in harmony with the woodland and its surroundings. They are all numbered and are part of a Limited Edition of 250 with their own Certificate of Authenticity." www.thebracken.com
Trish bought one of the dolls - Shamrock, I believe is her name.
We didn't meet the artist, only her husband, he makes the leather goods in "The Leather Shop" at "The Old Mill". Very interesting afternoon we spent in Boscastle, regardless of the rain.
You'll also see the back alleyway that actually fronts cottages and houses along the 'river' that empties into the sea. An afternoon well spent. Glad we went.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Charming Port Isaac!
I think the best way to encapsulate a description of Port Isaac is ... one of the most charming seacoast villages in England, set in a cove stretching up the enbankment, peaceful with cobblestone alleyways (streets), shops, pubs, and holiday cottages. The perfect place to get away from it all and settle in to write, rest, eat and drink.
I could live there, easily, except for the steep climb to the CoOp (grocery store) and lack of medical facilities and drug store. For medical treatment one has to travel to another town if you need more than aspirin and simple cold remedies. But that's easy, just have to plan in advance for all of that. As well as grocery. We would take the hike up the hill maybe every other day to get what we needed at the grocery, I was always bringing up the rear of course, since I'm not good on uphill hikes. And we could only carry a lightly packed bag of goods at a time. So we planned our purchases carefully. There were always the pubs and cafes in which to dine, too, so if one wanted to eat out all the time, no problem. But I'm a finger food sort of person, sometimes cheese and bread is enough for me in a meal. I was hooked on the beet root, ate several packages of that while there with my cheese and bread. Yum yum.
We would build a nightly fire in the fireplace, in fact in some of the Port Isaac photos to the left you will see the smoke rising from our chimney, the light is on in the living room ... cozy, huh? Trish was in the cottage while I was down in the cove taking pics. We stayed in the White House Cottage to the left of the White House which is to the left of 'Doc Martin's' brick dwelling used in the TV series. Ironic that a series with a doctor is set in a village that doesn't have any doctors. And the candy store is used as a pharmacy in the series, no pharmacy in Port Isaac. lol lol Interesting.
The photo of the four men that you'll see as you watch the slide show, are the 2 husbands of the gals that I wrote of in the previous post who helped me plot a novel (the two men on the left). That was a fun evening with those four guys at the Slipway, before and after the wives returned. Hilarious, actually. They were calling me Jessica ... of Murder She Wrote. The two on the right were visiting the cove from the Midlands - wild and crazy guys - dentists. Where were they when I lost a cap the last day we were there?
As you'll see, the streets are narrow and winding between the dwellings and other buildings and although looking grey and dismal, there is a tranquil, joyous feeling amidst them. I always feel that way in England wherever I am. One reason I'm drawn back to it time and time again. And in that tranquility, I am always inspired in my quiet thoughts. So much so that I look forward to time alone with my thoughts. But then I'm the same at home, even here in Arizona or wherever I call home.
More later ...
I could live there, easily, except for the steep climb to the CoOp (grocery store) and lack of medical facilities and drug store. For medical treatment one has to travel to another town if you need more than aspirin and simple cold remedies. But that's easy, just have to plan in advance for all of that. As well as grocery. We would take the hike up the hill maybe every other day to get what we needed at the grocery, I was always bringing up the rear of course, since I'm not good on uphill hikes. And we could only carry a lightly packed bag of goods at a time. So we planned our purchases carefully. There were always the pubs and cafes in which to dine, too, so if one wanted to eat out all the time, no problem. But I'm a finger food sort of person, sometimes cheese and bread is enough for me in a meal. I was hooked on the beet root, ate several packages of that while there with my cheese and bread. Yum yum.
We would build a nightly fire in the fireplace, in fact in some of the Port Isaac photos to the left you will see the smoke rising from our chimney, the light is on in the living room ... cozy, huh? Trish was in the cottage while I was down in the cove taking pics. We stayed in the White House Cottage to the left of the White House which is to the left of 'Doc Martin's' brick dwelling used in the TV series. Ironic that a series with a doctor is set in a village that doesn't have any doctors. And the candy store is used as a pharmacy in the series, no pharmacy in Port Isaac. lol lol Interesting.
The photo of the four men that you'll see as you watch the slide show, are the 2 husbands of the gals that I wrote of in the previous post who helped me plot a novel (the two men on the left). That was a fun evening with those four guys at the Slipway, before and after the wives returned. Hilarious, actually. They were calling me Jessica ... of Murder She Wrote. The two on the right were visiting the cove from the Midlands - wild and crazy guys - dentists. Where were they when I lost a cap the last day we were there?
As you'll see, the streets are narrow and winding between the dwellings and other buildings and although looking grey and dismal, there is a tranquil, joyous feeling amidst them. I always feel that way in England wherever I am. One reason I'm drawn back to it time and time again. And in that tranquility, I am always inspired in my quiet thoughts. So much so that I look forward to time alone with my thoughts. But then I'm the same at home, even here in Arizona or wherever I call home.
More later ...
Monday, October 31, 2011
Northwest Coast of Cornwall
Here I am, at last, in Port Isaac, Cornwall. And here I've been dredging my imagination inspired by this incredible fishing village to come up with an idea and a story for a new novel. A novel not part of my 'Midnight' series. A complete stand-alone. But still a contemporary romantic suspense novel, but the first one without my character Rachel O'Neill.
So, I've been thinking and thinking and thinking, making notes about possibilities, scrutinizing my surroundings with the purpose of creating the backdrop for my story, focusing my every waking thought on it ... until last night. Last night I met up with a couple gals and their husbands who we'd met the first night Trish and I arrived in Port Isaac. Fun people. And last night I put a question to the gals ... why would my protagonist be in Port Isaac, hiding out, living in a cottage she purchased without her husband of six months knowing, while he's back in New York City not knowing where she is? Why is she here? Why did she disappear?
Well, then the story unfolded. Between the three of us, we came up with a wonderful plot. At least a starting point with possible plot points ... and it was a fabulous brain-storming session. So now I'm eager to get to the writing of it.
After leaving them, I went for dinner at The Mote - crispy salmon, spinach, potatoes, and salad - then I walked back up the hill to our cottage in the rain, feeling the night had been totally productive and exhilarating. Trish stayed in for the evening, had been out walking all day while I worked - publishing stuff.
Today we went to Tintagel a few miles from here - the Camelot Castle Hotel and the village that was a complete surprise (the village is not portrayed well on the Internet, it's terrific). And as we traveled the bus ride to and from Tintagel, my mind continued writing this new novel ... working title JESSICA. (Oh, our busdriver on the return trip was a flaming queen - ruby red nail polish and all. He was a riot, entertained us all the way back. Lots of laughter.)
By the way this was the first time I've discussed a possible plot with anybody else. And it's strange how it all came about. It only goes to show that wherever and whenever you can come up with a story, and with whomever, do it. They were very helpful. Both Brits. And I truly thank them.
So, I've been thinking and thinking and thinking, making notes about possibilities, scrutinizing my surroundings with the purpose of creating the backdrop for my story, focusing my every waking thought on it ... until last night. Last night I met up with a couple gals and their husbands who we'd met the first night Trish and I arrived in Port Isaac. Fun people. And last night I put a question to the gals ... why would my protagonist be in Port Isaac, hiding out, living in a cottage she purchased without her husband of six months knowing, while he's back in New York City not knowing where she is? Why is she here? Why did she disappear?
Well, then the story unfolded. Between the three of us, we came up with a wonderful plot. At least a starting point with possible plot points ... and it was a fabulous brain-storming session. So now I'm eager to get to the writing of it.
After leaving them, I went for dinner at The Mote - crispy salmon, spinach, potatoes, and salad - then I walked back up the hill to our cottage in the rain, feeling the night had been totally productive and exhilarating. Trish stayed in for the evening, had been out walking all day while I worked - publishing stuff.
Today we went to Tintagel a few miles from here - the Camelot Castle Hotel and the village that was a complete surprise (the village is not portrayed well on the Internet, it's terrific). And as we traveled the bus ride to and from Tintagel, my mind continued writing this new novel ... working title JESSICA. (Oh, our busdriver on the return trip was a flaming queen - ruby red nail polish and all. He was a riot, entertained us all the way back. Lots of laughter.)
By the way this was the first time I've discussed a possible plot with anybody else. And it's strange how it all came about. It only goes to show that wherever and whenever you can come up with a story, and with whomever, do it. They were very helpful. Both Brits. And I truly thank them.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
OH TO LIVE IN ABBOTSBURY!
Yes, Trish and I both agree ... we would love to live in Abbotsbury. Such a quaint little village, lovely cottages and tea rooms ... perfect. And with the gardens and the swannery, so beautiful. If we would need to go to a larger town, Weymouth is just a few minutes down the road to the sea, and Dorchester is a few minutes to the east. Bridport, another sea town is just a few minutes to the north. So Abbotsbury is perfectly situated.
I've uploaded a few slide shows of the trip thusfar, to the left, so take a look. If you click on them you'll be taken to the site where the photos are located and you can see them in larger versions, if you wish.
In fact I'll let the photos speak for themselves of Abbotsbury.
I've uploaded a few slide shows of the trip thusfar, to the left, so take a look. If you click on them you'll be taken to the site where the photos are located and you can see them in larger versions, if you wish.
In fact I'll let the photos speak for themselves of Abbotsbury.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
SUNDAY LUNCH AT THE COVE HOUSE - CHESIL BEACH
Something I didn't know till recently is that Chesil Beach or Chesil Bank as it is sometimes referred to is one of three shingle structures in Britain. And the size of the chert and flint shingle varies from pea sized to orange sized from one end of the beach to the other stretching 18 miles to the Abbotsbury swannery (going to the swannery tomorrow). It is said that "the beach provides shelter from the prevailing winds and waves for the town of Weymouth and the village of Chiswell, which would otherwise probably not exist."
Anywho ... we boarded a local bus to Portland and to The Cove House (circled in black) for Sunday lunch - a very special place on Chesil Beach.
Anywho ... we boarded a local bus to Portland and to The Cove House (circled in black) for Sunday lunch - a very special place on Chesil Beach.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Monday - Off to Dorchester - Hardyland
A rainy day in Dorset land ... but it's only to ignore. Which is what we did. Off on a bus ride to Dorcester with our umbrellas and warm outer coverings and this time a small roller bag. We figured it out, how to make ourselves more comfy while walking without a heavy shoulder purse or bag to tote. A roller bag, small but spacious enough to carry our purses and whatever 'stuff' we collect along the way. Worked perfect. We each found the proper one, same, but I painted the emblem on mine with a tad of nail polish to differintiate between the two, which belongs to which. So now no more heaviness on the shoulders and arms.
So, I'm packing a few items I'm not using that I brought along, and will ship them home in the carryon luggage that is too heavy to carry through bus and train stations. I'll send them back to the U.S. before we leave Weymouth on Friday. That will leave a lightened load for my check-in bag, making it easier to manuever, and this small roller bag will replace the one I'm shipping home. Much better.
What it amounts to is a purse on rollers and a check-in bag that I'll be left with, both easy to lift. Works for me.
Alright, back to Dorcester ...
But before that, I was up shampooing and doing my nails this morning at 3:30 a.m., could not get to sleep. Had fallen asleep yesterday afternoon (Sunday) after our day out to Portland and the Cove House on Chesil Beach. Haven't posted that day yet, but will ... am behind on my writing.
Today we bused it to Dorcester, like I said, and had a very pleasant late lunch at Nappers Mite, a cafe in a 17th century alms house. Very small and crowded, but interesting nevertheless. Made of stone as most places are, hand hewn beams in the ceiling, wooden planks and stone floors, low doorways. The people in those times were much shorter than they are now. I would imagine you know all about that ... the evolution of the short of yesteryear to the tall of today. It's very evident in the cottages and buildings of England. I had a cheese & onion panini and Trish had a quiche.
After lunch we headed for the Thomas Hardy section in the Dorset Museum, which was the object of my interest. Then we went into the church next door, St. Peters, I believe it is. It was quaint, small, beautiful stained glass windows. I took pictures which I'll upload soon, as well as other pics thusfar.
Then it really began to rain, so we decided to come back to Weymouth, caught the bus, and here we are again. After a brief rest, though, we're off again to have a nice Italian dinner downtown by the drawbridge. So more later, gator . . .
So, I'm packing a few items I'm not using that I brought along, and will ship them home in the carryon luggage that is too heavy to carry through bus and train stations. I'll send them back to the U.S. before we leave Weymouth on Friday. That will leave a lightened load for my check-in bag, making it easier to manuever, and this small roller bag will replace the one I'm shipping home. Much better.
What it amounts to is a purse on rollers and a check-in bag that I'll be left with, both easy to lift. Works for me.
Alright, back to Dorcester ...
But before that, I was up shampooing and doing my nails this morning at 3:30 a.m., could not get to sleep. Had fallen asleep yesterday afternoon (Sunday) after our day out to Portland and the Cove House on Chesil Beach. Haven't posted that day yet, but will ... am behind on my writing.
Today we bused it to Dorcester, like I said, and had a very pleasant late lunch at Nappers Mite, a cafe in a 17th century alms house. Very small and crowded, but interesting nevertheless. Made of stone as most places are, hand hewn beams in the ceiling, wooden planks and stone floors, low doorways. The people in those times were much shorter than they are now. I would imagine you know all about that ... the evolution of the short of yesteryear to the tall of today. It's very evident in the cottages and buildings of England. I had a cheese & onion panini and Trish had a quiche.
After lunch we headed for the Thomas Hardy section in the Dorset Museum, which was the object of my interest. Then we went into the church next door, St. Peters, I believe it is. It was quaint, small, beautiful stained glass windows. I took pictures which I'll upload soon, as well as other pics thusfar.
Then it really began to rain, so we decided to come back to Weymouth, caught the bus, and here we are again. After a brief rest, though, we're off again to have a nice Italian dinner downtown by the drawbridge. So more later, gator . . .
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