August 2024
There are days when a sense of urgency doesn't kick in until nearly too late. I dozed through the alarm, engaged in a semi-wakeful dream, probably something about dentistry - guess what I have coming up...So after a slow, mildly traumatised start to the day, I suddenly had to dash out to catch the 9.15 train, couldn't find anywhere to park and then had to jog, feebly, to the station. Burst through the waiting room door to find the train was ... cancelled. 'Aaaff!' I exclaimed like a balloon expelling air. Deflated ... Only solution was to catch next train to Bodmin Parkway and then wait on the platform for an hour for the 4 minute journey back to Lostwithiel. I was due to meet a group of writers who had all been brought together in January in Plymouth for the Women Speak Volumes project, organised by Speaking Volumes and Literature Works. We had decided to keep meeting and this was the first gathering I had been able to attend and I was going to be late ...
It did mean that I caught the Edinburgh train and I thought of Connie, Neal and Coppice Theatre performing there. Part of me was tempted to stay on board!
Bodmin Station in the intermittant sunshine is really not a bad place to wait. Delicious coffee and pain au chocolat from the former signal box café. And then I was rewarded with the arrival of the Bodmin and Wenford steam train - steaming, tooting and shunting. Made me think of Anna's memories of hiding in the train with her brother as a child. I also remember visiting the railway yard, several years ago, manoeuvering around vast piles of coal and lake-like puddles, to enter the huge sheds where the engines are lovingly tended, mended and restored using the biggest spanners and hammers I've ever seen. The shed was populated with very happy volunteer teams of grease painted men in oily overalls.
Bodmin Parkway is some distance from the town; when it was built the horse transport businesses lobbied against the arrival of the railway in their town while the owners of Lanhydrock and Glynn Houses were more than keen to have the station on their land, giving them privileged access to the trains.
Lostwithiel by contrast has the station right in town, just a quick step across the beautiful medieval bridge spanning the River Fowey. Waiting for the level crossing gates to rise, I noticed a half built pedestrian bridge. This has apparently been at this stage of construction for 'the last ten years' and is the subject of much local conjecture, my informant said he would go and check on progress with the mayor ... Meanwhile, I sped off up Fore Street towards the Q Street Café, tripping down the step and lurching into the room of writers, at far greater speed than intended. Once seated, it was a really enjoyable two hours of sharing experiences, ideas, obstacles and how to overcome them, plus a tasty lunch. It is a real privilege to meet with such a committed, talented group. One outcome is that we will have a presence at the Looe Festival of Words on October 5th at the Book Fair https://looefestivalofwords.co.uk/
As if that wasn't enough stimulus for one day, I jumped back on the train but this time to Penzance. A young writer we know, Jamie Lock, had received funding from Film K & Screen Cornwall to make a short film in Cornish and we were invited to the crew, family and friends screening at the Newlyn Picture House (next showings are in London and Montreal). Our son, Benedict, had worked on this as Assistant Director. He hasn't seen it yet so we were his proud representatives!
As the train drew into Penzance, a creeping mist was casting its net over Mounts Bay, the seagulls were taking back their beach for the evening conflab, small horses were being exercised and a few hardy visitors still camped out. Two youngish men behind me, were giving off a nervous, sweary energy, strong London accents. I saw them as they got off walking fast, skinny, dressed in warm beanies and an anorak zipped up to the chin, with fake fur trim on the large hood. No luggage bar small rucksacks. Evidently not on holiday. I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover but something was up ... Then I lost them as they dodged through the suitcase-dragging, dawdling crowd.
I walked from the station to Newlyn along the prom. Very enjoyable. Met Tony at the cinema and then lots of friends arrived for the screening of Kordh (Clan). It is the story of a young transgender man who has grown up in the small community on the Isles of Scilly, where it was shot, and more broadly about young friendship. We really enjoyed a beautiful piece of pertinent storytelling; simple yet complex where so much was conveyed in such a short time against the stunning backdrop the cliffs of St Mary's. Well done/ Keslowena to the whole team. The aim of the fund is to encourage contemporary stories to be told using the Cornish language, with sub-titles. This really worked. And on a personal level, I was really pleased how much I could understand - it has paid off attending a beginner Cornish class for the second time, something is sticking, finally. Bryntin!
Later we walked along the beach at Marazion and St Michael's Mount had completely disappeared - you began to doubt if it had ever really been there ...
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