2017 Day Two

Summer time…and the livin’ is easy…

Ella Fitzgerald nailed it, and it’s bliss.  We’ve landed in England’s weather glory days.  Thoughts of winter are banished in the morning’s bright light, summer berries and fields of wildflowers.  I’m sure (hope) my brain will catch up soon.  It’s a little disorienting at first.

The morning is spent stocking the motorhome with summer goodies and local produce.  And most importantly, getting back on line.  Data! Yay! It’s rather horrifying how dependent we are on it. 

We’re keeping the hire car while we’re in Cornwall, best to tackle the teeny tiny village roads, designed for horse and cart rather than 5 tonne motorhomes.  All the best to explore you with, as the wolf said.  Well not quite, but I’m sure you follow.  

Afternoon brings a sojourn to Falmouth.  We’ve been here before, to Rick Stein’s fish and chippery, but not explored the town.  It’s abuzz – there’s a festival in town and the place is packed. 

 An international food market greets us and as we wander along the main street and port, we’re treated to music, singers, barbershop quartets, larger groups, all in good voice. Many dressed as pirates.   Curiouser and curiouser…  Have the good people of Falmouth awoken to find themselves hostage to musical theatre?    

The music brings the final clue, songs of the high seas, adventures in the Jolly Roger, and ponderings on what one might do with a drunken sailor…it’s the International Sea Shanty festival.

  People have indeed come from far and wide and Falmouth is bursting at the seams.  You’ve got to hand it to the English, when the sun shines, they’re out in force, enjoying every moment of it.

The harbour sparkles a deep blue as a backdrop, as we climb the length and breadth of festivities.  There’s nothing like a hill climb to remind you that you spend a lot of time sitting at a desk.  *Sigh*

Pirated out, we head back.  Chris has in mind cooking to stock the freezer, and a book beckons me.  I’m reading Caitlyn Jenner’s story and it’s caught my attention.  Honest to the point of harrowing, a rare glimpse of a life spent in turmoil, at peace at last.  

Dinner at the local pub in Truro rounds out the day.  Am genuinely starting to wind down, but thoughts of blogs unwritten keep intruding. A job for tomorrow, me thinks. 

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