Lunch with the Rothschilds

The recent passing of Dorothy Turner, the last of mothers brothers wives, the other five brothers having passed some years ago, saw us attending her funeral in Wokingham.

We had travelled up with Joy-Anne who was to spend the night with us at Trevor and Janice's in Rickmansworth for the Friday night. She would continue on to Sophies at Basildon on the Saturday to spend time with her daughter and we would take lunch at Waddesdon.

This Grade I listed house was built in the Neo-Renaissance style of a French château between 1874 and 1889 for Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild (1839–1898) as a weekend residence for grand entertaining and as a setting for his collection. The last member of the Rothschild family to own Waddesdon was James de Rothschild (1878–1957). He bequeathed the house and its contents to the National Trust. It is now managed by the Rothschild Foundation chaired by Jacob Rothschild, 4th Baron Rothschild. It is one of the National Trust's most visited properties, with over 390,000 visitors annually.

Despite an adequate lunch we managed to book a table at The Bricklayers Arms, Hogpits Bottom, Flaunden for dinner. Voted Hertfordshire's Gastro pub of the year. We are fortunate enough to have eaten here on a few occasions now. The grub is always to a high standard.

To Perranporth

Friday 9^th March 2018

The met had promised change and they were correct. A sea mist had enveloped us and when this cleared it turned to drizzle. Jackie went off for a shower.

This site despite having some great views was in my opinion not much more than a field with some bushes planted in random fashion and the odd power pole. There were also one or two gravelled hard stands. Mother nature was fighting to reclaim these and was to an extent winning. There were two ablution blocks. One was closed we were told due to the recent winter storms and needed repairs. The other was a series of medium sized wooden sheds. Two ‘family rooms’, with a shower, wc, wash basin, all free hot water, a separate ladies W.C. with one small shower. A  pot wash area and a small launderette. £4 a spin. They were clean inside having I suspect been recently painted for the coming season. For these facilities and the ‘field’ with a view we paid £19 a night included electricity.

Compare this with Helligan Woods at Mevagissey. State of the art reception area, clean warm welcoming, lounge chairs, well laid out information area. Immaculate grounds well-tended, flowers growing amongst numerous species of flora. Well gravelled pitches also good views and a degree of privacy between many. £11 pn inc electricity. How do they do it. Economy of scale perhaps?

The weather had taken a decidedly turn for the worse. As it was now 1100hrs it was in theory time to vacate. Although off season as we were, hardly any site owners monitor your off time. In any case you could barely see across the field due to the sea mist and rain, so how would they know. We drove out. Not a soul to be seen anywhere.

We were headed for the King Harry Ferry. This crosses the River Fal just below the National Trust house of Trelissick. It will save you considerable time, fuel, wear and tear if you’re travelling from the Roseland Peninsular to Falmouth or even Truro. It costs £6 single. We had intended to park up and visit the house but it was hammering down by now as so we thought we would press on towards St Agnes and the Driftwood Spar Hotel and pub at Trevaunance  Cove and take lunch. I had recced this route on Google earth a week or so ago and had reservations about the entry to their car park. It looked narrow. It  was also a slightly awkward turn in but managed it with just a kiss of the rear bumper bar. Which incidentally I also did with the exit as well.

 The Spars in the Driftwood relate to the huge beams or spars that keep the Driftwood standing. They were salvaged from shipwrecks along the coast and were utilised to build the Driftwood in the 1650s. The building itself offers a wealth of history having been converted from a tin mining warehouse, chandlery, sail making loft and fish cellar over the years to a hotel with bar in the early 1900’s and a public bar in the 1940’s.

We walked in and to us it was as dark as the proverbial but eventually ours eyes adjusted to the gloom. History oozed from the walls and beams. It was certainly original in all aspects. We logged in with the bar the fact we were parked in their carpark and bought lunch. This gave us free access. The place was very busy considering it was somewhat off the beaten track but the 'beer festival' helped. This was held in an adjoining room. This area was spacious light and airy. Most music functions seemed to be held here. Lunch over we took a very short stroll down to the beach. It was raining again and so we upped anchor and made our way to Perranporth.

Tonight we were parked behind the Texaco petrol station. Now I know that doesn't sound too romantic but at a fiver a night, the price is right. No facilities but we are self contained.

We had made arrangements to meet Ben, a fellow traveller on last August's canoe trip to Sweden. He lived right centre of Perranporth. We would also have an opportunity to meet with his father Tony who, like Ben and ourselves was booked on this years trip to Sweden. More lake than river journey this time. The lakes are huge make no mistake. As a manager for the life guards he was positioned only yards from one of the busiest beaches in Cornwall. Today though he had to conduct interviews later that day in Torquay and could not join us for a pint that evening. After a chat and a mug of T we returned to the Ice Cream Lorry.


 

Maisie met up with us at 1800hrs and we walked through the drizzle to a Weatherspoons, The Green Parrot for some grub.

Jackie took great delight in ordering food and drink using her app which worked surprising well. The staff were quickly delivering our order.  Food finished we returned to Chez Texaco and at 2030hrs we bade Maisie farewell.

Tomorrow we were due to return home Tracey had organized an early dinner for us at The Miners Arms..

Thursday 9^th March 2018

Today we had a busy day scheduled. We were therefore away from the Ice Cream Lorry prompt. A short walk to Gerrans village to catch the bus into St Mawes. This was a twenty minute ride. There is no doubt the Roseland peninsular is beautiful even this early in the year. The only problem is if one wishes to get to Falmouth from this area it’s either an hour’s drive around or a slightly shorter journey using the King Harry Ferry over the Fal River or the passenger ferry from St Mawes. The pax ferry is a twenty minute journey and is not cheap. Ten pounds return. We made our way to the small harbour in St Mawes for embarkation but found we had time to kill.

Today was a bright blue sky with a little sea running and a fair breeze. It was damn cold. Fortunately, there on the harbour wall was a small tea/coffee shop which also sold pasties and fresh bread etc. In we popped, ordered some hot drinks and endeavoured to make friends with the crowd of builders and fishermen who were ensconced within. Most seemed to be from ‘up country’ By this I mean North country. The fisher folk were true Cornish. I knew this to be the case ‘cos they kept saying ‘dreckly and ‘are you going to have another coffee or no?’ We received veiled threats about ‘crib time’ and taking Tom’s seat. “He’ll stare at you like a mad conger” we were threatened, “We’re Devon stock, us don’t scare easy.” I replied. “ I can outstare a statue.”  I think they warmed to us slightly.

We walked to the end of the pier. The Road to Wigan Pier immediately pops into mind! Long time since I last read that. The wind is fresh. The ferry chugs into view. We board.  Jackie insisted on staying aloft, in the open.  It was a cold crossing. Quite a few sailing yachts were ‘running before the wind’ around Carrick Roads.

We landed on the Prince of Wales jetty and there before us was the memorial to Operation Chariot. The Allies attempt to deny the Normandie Dock at St Nazaire to the German battleships on the Western seaboard of France. If you scan back through this blog you will see our visit to St Nazaire France in June 2017.

Delightful as it was here in the sun on the jetty we needed to get on. We entered the cold sunless area that forms the main shopping street through Falmouth, running parallel to the river frontage. We popped into a few shops and managed to purchase matching boots, scarf and gloves for Jackie  to complement her new teal coloured Osprey bergan. Aren’t we lucky!

The next assault was upon the ‘mountain’ that forms the backdrop to Falmouth town. Tim’s Providore Resto is situated at the top. It was here we intended to take lunch.

The Providore Resto, Falmouth.

Falmouth is a warren of back alleys, passages and granite steps, steeper that a climb up Snowdon! Well after traipsing around shops all morning we arrived breathless and gasping for a G+T. Bev, Tim’s wife remembered us from our last visit, a breakfast, eggs benedict, delicious. It was on that occasion I made the gaff of suggesting that Tim had cooked a delightful breaky. Strewth! Bev very politely rounded upon me, with some justification I might add and made it clear that she cooked breakfast and lunch and Tim controlled the evening dinners. I scraped and crawled like Basil Fawlty.

Tim was today at a food trade fair in Wadebridge so we missed him. We must call again for dinner and catch up long before our next scheduled meet in Sweden canoeing! Lunch was Kati, a type of Indian wrap/ chapati with chillies, cauli, yogurt and mint. Quite delicious but the chillies caught both Jackie and I. Thank goodness I was on a Cobra beer. Jackie could not resist some home made carrot cake for dessert and we washed all this down with a Turmeric Latte and Brazilian ground bean espresso. The staff here are always so friendly they are a joy. We bade farewell to Bev and made our
way downhill towards The National Maritime Museum.


There was we felt insufficient time to allow a ‘proper’ visit to the museum as the ferry and bus connections were critical. Late for one meant missing the other and this would then be a taxi ride as the distance was too far to tab given Jackie’s recent twisted knee issues. We reconciled ourselves with a wander around the Gift shop area which surprisingly was not filled with the usual amount of tat. This also gave us some breathing space to save for our entry fees on our next visit.

We walked slowly back through town. Browsing various shops, mostly hippy gear it seemed, usual holiday gifts featuring plastic mackerel and pictures and mugs from the Poldark series recently shown on TV. Jackie was unable to pass an Italian Ice Cream shop without buying a ‘lick lick’ as Poppy would say. Now back at the Prince of Wales jetty we had thirty minutes or so to kill. There was a Rowes pasty and café shop on the corner. We ducked inside and found some very nice comfortable arm chairs and had a coffee to pass the time. Somebody also had a slice of millionaire shortbread.

We were soon back on the ferry for a rather lumpy crossing, spray falling upon the open deck below. There had been a suggestion of Dolphins but none showed today. Arriving back at St Mawes harbour we marched smartly to the bus turn point and made it with a few minutes to spare. We sat at the rear of the single decker, our backs to the engine compartment and were once again toasty warm. We alighted at Gerran beside the church and within half a mile we were soon back at ‘The Lorry’.

 Time for a brew, put our feet up and got stuck into our books.

Tuesday 6^th March 2018

Our destination for tonight’s camp was Helligan Woods Camp site. This was as one might surmise next door to the famous Lost Gardens of Helligan. Indeed a gate in the hedge took you into Helligan Gardens which was not on our to do list today. We intended walking into Mevagissey this afternoon but a mid morning start after dropping Callum to school then a stop over at Asda for fuel and rations at St Austell and a Rowe’s pasty from the concession inside Asda had us running a bit late. Not that we had to be anywhere by any time as such.

The staff at Helligan Woods greeted us like long lost friends, were business like and directed us to our internet booked site. No sooner had we dropped anchor so to speak and I had plugged us into the power supply than Jackie had the G+T’s ready. “I thought we were tabbing into Mevagissey”?  I asked? “My knees playing me up.” Was the reply. True Jackie had twisted her knee this last week and it didn’t make much sense to walk to far on it just yet and aggravate it. We spent the afternoon, or what remained of it ‘on board’ and read our books.

Wednesday 8^th March 2018

We awoke after a great nights sleep, warm as toast to brilliant sunshine and a cloudless sky. Breakfast was a simple affair, Weetabix with mixed fresh fruit. We were on our way by 1100hrs.

Jackie plotted a course for Trewortha and we immediately set off cross country. Well if I thought that was narrow, the last few miles to Dave’s house was super tight. We had followed his directions, the signage was also correct, we stopped, checked the map, yes that was right. Despite this we, I, had taken the ‘wrong’ turning. “Sorry” said Dave when we told him of our route in “Even I don’t go that way, it’s too narrow.” “Tell us about it” we chorused. “I wouldn’t have taken a Landrover down there. Thank goodness no one was coming in the opposite direction”. “Yes, I should have said the second turning”.

Dave introduced us to Pie the rabbit. ‘Chuckle’. Great sense of humour Dave, although Chloe his daughter had named it. It was still a brilliant day and we debated about coffee on the terrace or in the kitchen. The kitchen won. “ I have a new coffee percolator”.  said Dave with a grin on his face. The reference was to his and my attempt at making coffee in Sweden using a Kelly kettle or type thereof. Don’t  know what a Kelly  kettle is? Look it up. On that occasion it had taken ‘hours’ and he and  by association I, were the butt of many jokes for a few days.

Dave had suggested at our last camp in January that Les and I might wish to come and work on his land clearing away scrub and trees and generally tidying up the area. To this end Les and I had put three days aside later this month. I was keen on a recce and Dave was only to pleased to show the area in question. We walked the short distance to the wood and had a tour around. Dave outlined his plans for the future. Coppicing here, new hedge line there, planting Silver Birch and the construction of the all so important ‘Man Cave’. Now this would not be a cave but a wooden cabin constructed from local cut timber and packing/pallets. It was still an exciting challenge. Uncertain as to whether Les and I could live out of our vans nearby or whether we would pitch a tarp for the three days I made a mental note of the pros and cons and decided to speak to Les at Wednesday’s canoe session or Breakfast meet. The Met dictates both. Good weather we go canoeing. Bad, we go for breakfast. Last Wednesday we set out in good weather to The Holland Inn Hatt for breakfast but by the time we had finished we were all but snowed in!

Dave insisted upon giving us lunch and the afternoon started to run away. Still it was very pleasant. Chatting about, Munroes and Wainwrights, the Alps, Pyrenees etc. It was time to take our leave as Dave was away to collect Chloe from school. We agreed that we would meet up tomorrow about 1100hrs Dave would collect us and drive to Falmouth and we would take lunch at Tim’s Resto, The Provedore. Thus we drove off and soon found ourselves at Treloan Farm where we were directed to a lovely pitch overlooking the sea, Plymouth headland miles away in the distance, and thankfully a gravel hardstanding. Most of the ground we had walked over on our site recce with Peter the site owner was soft underfoot. Dave, in an earlier chat about his new all electric ‘Wind’ had been discussing tyres and suggested we might want to investigate a different tread pattern. This we might well do.

The Beast from the East and Storm Front Emma.

With supplies dwindling and no hope of rescue things seemed grim indeed. Thanks for our salvation is mainly due to Suzie's supply of Poire confiture. A jar was found in the darker recesses of the larder. This delicacy  spread liberally upon some home made scones brought us through.  Without this, with supplies running dangerously low we might not have made it.

Mike decided he would take advantage of the snow (in the garden) to go camping. So with Callum's help on the Wednesday afternoon, they were all off school, we set about making a shelter from some old bits of timber and polythene sheets. This 'camp' was guarded by Callum with a bow and arrow we had made. He assured me dinosaurs were prowling the area and even found footprints in the snow.

He seemed keen enough to camp out but Nanna, aka Jackie, forbade it. He was having a sleepover  with us and she was the responsible adult. I suggested we were the responsible adults but her reply was "How can that be us, when you are suggesting he sleeps out in something like -4' C" I sensed immediately I would get nowhere with the 'it'll be good for him argument' I tried the 'I've been promising to take him camping for ages' tack. "Yes" she said "at Piles Copse in the summer not in the middle of an Artic winter." I said no more.

However come my bedtime at 2200hrs, I picked up my sleeping bag and kissing she who must be obeyed goodnight made for the backdoor. "Where are you going?" Jackie asked

I'm going outside and I might be gone some time" was my reply.

Traipsing through the snow on a compass bearing for the bottom of the garden and the bivvy, I arrived not long after the lights downstairs had been switched off. Looking up at the rear bedroom window I could see a flicker of light from behind a curtain as it was parted. I flashed SOS on my head torch. Someone flicked me the bird!

Ah well. It wasn't really cold but it sure was stormy. The noise in the trees kept me awake more than the cold.