The Sennen Cove Diary
December 4th - Thursday
There must have been a bit of breeze last night. Two of the trees on the railings opposite had suffered damage overnight. The small plastic one was on its side and the decorations on the main tree had blown away making it look lopsided. There is always some fine tuning to be done each year and at least the trees are still there.
I was up early doors to wait for the freezer delivery. They told me that we would be the first job, so I was expecting them much earlier than the gone nine o’clock that they actually arrived. I was a little suspicious that they had arrived in a standard panel van, but I was happy to give them the benefit of the doubt. They are professionals, after all.
I had not seen them at first and by the time I got down there they had already removed the unit from the back of the van. I told them that unless it was inflatable or telescopic in some way and also transformed itself from being a fridge to a freezer, it was almost certainly the wrong unit. I agreed with them that it was somewhat disappointing having come all this way but at least I could now have my breakfast that I had been putting off while they went to fetch the correct unit.
The morning had thus far been spent wondering if I would miss their arrival by doing things such as running about on the beach – the girls, that is, I watch. I need not have worried, clearly, and now that I knew they would be an hour or so, I was able to have my breakfast without watching the clock.
The Missus had started much earlier today than she had yesterday. There was no option about overrunning as proceedings, Santy and his helpers at first, were due to start at four o’clock. She set to with the trees and enlisted the help of various Lifeboat crew who scurried about setting up the gazebo, moving tables and chairs and so forth. Disappointingly, the temperature had dropped again and was not helped by the wind going around to the west where it was a little more noticeable than before. There were also sharp showers blowing through, making the final setting up more uncomfortable than it should have been.
The freezer boys turned up while the Missus was in full swing. I joined the melee and directed the exchange of freezers, given that they had turned up with the correct one this time. Part of the preparation was moving the mat at the entrance to the shop so that it did not snag as the freezers were moved in and out. I should have known better but underneath there was the usual puddle of dirty water lurking. There was no time to clear it up and the process of treading through it and dragging a freezer through it as well, spread it around the shop quite effectively.
There was just about time to sweep the collected detritus of more than 20 years from the floor where the old freezer had sat unmoved for all that time. It was considerable as you might imagine. I swept it out into the food aisle as a temporary measure and got to grips with it later, when they had gone.
It is a monster unit. Of course, I knew the dimensions when I ordered it but seeing it before me, it was quite astounding. We moved the pasty fridge (sorry, MS) across to make more room and when the new one was in place, I realised that we had trapped the power cable for the fridge in behind. It took a little jigging around so that it was in the optimum position and I could still get to and operate the power sockets now masked off by the new freezer’s bulk.
I took the paperwork that came with it in a zip lock bag upstairs to peruse later. The boys had turned it on before they went but with plenty to do for Carols in the Cove, I left it all until later.
It did not take the Missus long to repair the overnight damage and to put out a second of the five small, plastic trees. She left it there, which was sensible, as there was so much more to do in preparation for the main event including a meeting in the crew room to make sure everyone knew what they were doing. I had a few jobs to do including mopping up the shop floor which took a little time. I am still finding that I have a reserve of around an hour before I have to collapse in a heap through lack of energy. I am no longer on drugs – other that the ones that keep me vaguely alive day to day – so I must presume it is that everything is being diverted to healing my knee. It is either that or I am so out of condition that is all that I can muster. So, after completing my few minor tasks, I went and fell in a heap on the sofa.
While I was there, for the want of anything better to do, I had a look at the paperwork that came with the freezer. It told me that the little plastic device in the bag must be inserted in the drain at the base of the freezer before switching it on. Oops. It was a very good example of RTFM, which translated means Read The Manual. It is not always so clear cut. I also read that to set the temperature I should press the up-arrow button but first I should unlock the keypad by pressing the P button and up-arrow simultaneously for five seconds to unlock the panel. I tried that later when I went down to insert the bung, but I had no luck at all.
Time passed remarkable speedily. I had run the girls out a couple of times since the freezer delivery, skilfully avoiding the showers that were blowing through The Cove on an increasingly chilly wind. All the while more things were happening and more bodies were running around doing them. When I had suitably recovered and with time expiring rapidly, I made a dash up to The Farm to find and collect the paper cups, coffee and hot chocolate that were excess to requirements last year.
I followed that up by taking the girls out for the last run before the fun started and darkness descended. In the meanwhile, Santy had arrived and was chatting with a member of the very excellent Shore Crew. You hear a lot about the fellow dashing here and there on the big day itself but it quite remarkable how ordinary he is in real life. And, I am sure that not many people know this, he comes from Camborne not the North Pole. It is probably something to do with climate change and socioeconomics that Camborne is slightly less inhospitable than the North Pole at this time of year.
My pal from yesteryear came and joined the party ahead of the show starting properly. There were already some visitors queuing up to see Santy. As I stood waiting for my pal, Mother headed back from her visit to the big man. She came back clutching a bottle of gin and a bottle of wine that Santy had determined were at her heart’s desire without her even having to ask. It is the magic of Christmas, I am certain.
After all that excitement and having given my friend a tour of the shop, we repaired to the flat to see out the rest of the evening. The church choir sadly had dwindled in numbers and had to be disbanded this year, so the gauntlet was taken up by the school choir instead. They drew quite a crowd and with hot chocolate, coffee and an abundance of mulled wine on offer, everyone had a jolly old time.
The choir was followed by Pendeen Silver Band. Unfortunately, the full force of the dulcet tones of their instruments was muffled by our very effective double glazing. The Missus popped up to see how we were doing at one stage and opened the window so that we might better appreciate the tunes. I sense that it must have been some effort to depart from scores of the movies prior to 1975 because after three of four carols, the theme from The Great Escape slipped in. Sadly, we were forced to close the window again immediately after the Missus went because it was letting in too much cold air.
Despite the Missus being unable to complete the Christmas decorations, the whole event went off swimmingly. It was well attended and miraculously stayed dry throughout. The band finished and people started to drift away at around eight o'clock and I can confidently say that it was another successful Carols in the Cove. Well done to the Missus and the Crew who put in so much effort to make it happen and the neighbours and various others who ran the refreshments and did the collecting. Now, relax, although Santy will be there for another three late afternoons.
I, along with pal and Mother had spent another enjoyable evening reliving the events of the past and discussing the events of the current. As my friend said, it was like we had pressed pause on our relationship so many years ago and just pressed play again. Nothing much had changed between us at all which is quite remarkable really, since we have been friends for more than 40 years. We both confessed to being rubbish at keeping in touch with anyone, me probably more so than he – he was here, after all. With the advent of things like WhatsApp, hopefully we can make some improvements – maybe, possibly.
Christmas lights and a fierce swell bashing about in Tribbens
December 3rd - Wednesday
Unsurprisingly, I was almost late getting out of bed this morning. I would have preferred to be later still, but the girls had other ideas. All it takes is for me to open one eye and one of them to notice. I need some more practise at this clandestine sleeping lark.
Mother was already up and scared the bejebbies out of me, silently sitting in the corner of the living room when I came out with the girls in tow. We did not tarry for any niceties, and it was straight out the door for first run of the day. Someone sent me a clip from the Harbour CCTV of some eld codger struggling with two dogs up the slip with aid of a walking stick. I wondered why they had bothered until I realised it was me.
It is the only time of the day now when there is any beach available to run around on, which is a little disappointing. There was plenty of beach too and the girls took full advantage, running about on most of it. We tend not to stop long in the mornings as I think the girls are keen to get back for their morning chew treats and to wake the Missus up. The remaining walks of the day would be around the block only.
Once we were back, I was able to settle into the morning routine with a cup of tea. Having done the dwindling amount of administration our closed season generates, I was able to chase up on matters arising. One of these was prompted by a discussion on Radio Pasty while I was out and about in the truck yesterday. They had interviews with a few publicans bemoaning the recent review in business rates. It seems that either establishments will close, or beer is about to get even more expensive. I thought that I had better follow up the business rate changes to see if we were affected.
In the autumn budget the Government announced that it is committed to supporting small businesses by introducing a range of measures to protect them from the Valuation Office’s revaluation of business premises across the nation. So committed are they that instead of paying a big fat zero pounds for the last so many years, from April next year, we will have to fork out around £1,000 per year.
We were the proud recipients of the Mandatory Rural Settlement Relief of 100 percent because our rateable value fell below the threshold of £8,500. Come April next year, our revaluation takes us to over £10,000. So, instead of increasing the threshold by the same average increases in business rates and maintaining the status quo, we will now, with thousands of other businesses, have to cough up payment for no appreciable return.
I am yet to investigate what other reliefs we may be eligible for or whether we have to rely on the Supporting Small Business Scheme which caps increases to £800. So not only has the Government introduced a new charge against our business, we must also spend a considerable amount of time trying to establish our position and options with the much maligned council. I think, on the whole, small businesses would have been much better pleased had the Government decided not to be committed to supporting small businesses at all.
The trauma of it all was far too much for the Missus who immersed herself in decorating the trees across the road. She started very late and was still at it when it went dark and she could no longer see what she was doing. By that time, she had dressed the two main trees and added one of the five mini, colour themed trees to the line-up. My role in the affair was to provide tea and coffee at irregular intervals during the day and take the girls around the block.
I had left it until late in the day before making an attempt to clear the shop floor ahead of the freezer delivery tomorrow. I did not want to do it earlier lest I move something that the Missus was needing. I will not paint the detail of the scene that would ensue if she went to find some tinsel or other decoration and it was not where she expected to find it. There was still some risk when I started when I did, but I explained what I was doing and hoped for the best.
Keen to make some contribution, I unloaded the drier and put away the contents. I then decanted the contents of the washing machine into the drier and set it going. Very often, by crossing the delicate demarcation between roles, I am lambasted for getting it wrong no matter how good the intention. Today, I was thanked, which means I got it right, I think. I will have to watch that because if I get it right too often, I might be asked to do it permanently.
Halfway through the evening, I found that I was tiring rapidly. I have not late night partied since I had long hair, or more accurately, had hair. It was thoroughly enjoyable at the time but now I am ruined, I tell you, utterly ruined.
December 2nd - Tuesday
It was a far better day in prospect today though much colder than yesterday. I could feel it slowly invading the flat and me as the day drew on. It did not feel that bad when I took the girls to the beach first thing but there again, the wind that was everywhere yesterday was but a bitter memory today.
Returning from the beach, I remembered that I had not re-locked the wheelie bin after yesterday’s collection. I did not see the lorry come through but assumed they had been but when I checked inside our bin, it was still full. All the other bins in the street had been returned to their normal places, so I assumed it was just ours not collected.
Due to the wind, I had left our bin tied to the big bin behind it. This has not stopped the boys previously; they just pull the sacks out and throw them in the lorry. It is the only reason I can think of for it not being collected. I have submitted a missed collection request, so I shall discover shortly whether that is the case. Good job we have a commercial bin to fall back upon.
Our lights man was back early in the morning to check his handiwork. He was here for a couple of hours running them after making adjustments and replacing one of the bulb holders. We had a chat before he went, and we will let him know if we had any further difficulties with them. The ones in the Harbour carried on all night but as the Missus reported, their brightness obscures the publicly available video stream of the Harbour. We await complaints from the viewers of the webcam who now cannot observe the beach at night.
It was shortly into the morning that I discovered we were almost out of dog food. The Missus had omitted to buy any on her marathon shop yesterday and I had forgotten to remind her. I needed to go to town to resolve the situation and was immediately issued with a list of errands. Alright, there were two errands, collect some more decorations from The Farm and collect Mother.
There were a few showers blowing through today, but it was still a glorious day for being up at The Farm. Standing in the sunshine, it was wonderfully warm, and I took the opportunity to just stand there for a short while soaking it up. I also took time to have a look at how I might set up an extended CCTV operation up there and go through in my mind what would be required and if I would be able to do any or all of it. I reckoned I could get away with most of it, including building a stand for the necessary solar panel and reinforcing the cut down telegraph pole that was already in situ. It would mean working at height, which I was not keen on, but I might just manage at that. The only haddock in the cutlery drawer was messing with the 12 volt arrangements that are under the kitchen unit in the cabin.
Ever since I installed the 12 volt system in there, I regretted putting it in such an difficultly accessible place. Making and changes or additions requires me to kneel down and lean forward. Since in that position I need to support myself from falling flat on my face, it leaves only one hand free to unscrew connections and do whatever else needs to be done. I have managed before but that was before I had a knee that I could kneel on. I may need help even if I wait a while.
Having completed my jobs up at The Farm I set forth to collect Mother. She likes a good trip out and since going to Tesmorburys in town was the only trip on offer, it would have to do. There are road works on the western approach to Mount Misery roundabout that have been there an age. I had a notion that they were supposed to have been finished at the end of November. Not only do they look a long way from being finished and with only four workers engaged on the 100 yard stretch, it was not looking like there was much of a will for hurrying up, either.
On Sunday, when we collected the trees, we had breezed through the roadworks on green lights in both directions. Today was clearly not our day as we had red lights both ways. Still, we were not in much of a hurry.
Descending the hill on our return to The Cove, the sea state that had been in remission from its fury of a few days ago, had to decided to come back with a vengeance. There was a great angry churning going on in the Harbour and geek lumps of white water were leaping over the Harbour wall. On the far side, great explosions of spray were dashing up the cliffs and all across the bay, large lumbering waves were rolling in. Despite that, I heard that one of the Lifeboat boys had managed to catch a sizeable bass off the end of the Harbour wall. I think it must have jumped out knowing what was coming up behind it.
Still feeling not quite herself, the Missus carried on with the preparation of Santy’s grotto and the Lifeboat boys pulled out all the stops to help her set up the Christmas trees and rearrange the fence panels. All that is left to do is to spend the day decorating the trees tomorrow and nearly all be ready for Carols in the Cove on Thursday. For once, the weather is forecast to play ball tomorrow and provide her with a windless and dry day.
It had been a long time coming but my good pal from years back had made the effort – again – to come down and visit. He now lives east of Camborne but originally hales from very far north of Camborne where they speak with a foreign brogue. I wore my false ears which not only amplify sound but do a fair job at translation, too.
He was my first boss in computing. We were lucky enough to work in an atmosphere of relaxed friendliness which was almost familial in nature. When I moved on, we maintained loose contact which eventually spanned decades. One of our lasting memories is sharing a commute to London together to separate jobs. We created mayhem and consternation in the carriage by having the temerity to actually converse with one another which, promoted by the austere atmosphere and looks of disapproval, often had us in uncontrollable fits of giggles.
Later on in the evening, he confessed to having similar feeling to me that after such a long time apart, we worried whether the same chemistry and camaraderie had survived. It took only seconds to realise that nothing much had changes other that the amount of grey in our beards – it was difficult to see whether same was true of our heads. We exchanged gifts of malt whisky, his a bottle of one of my favourites from where it all started and mine, a product of Cornwall. I will not labour the point, but we enjoyed each other’s easy company long into the night joined by the Missus and Mother and well past my bedtime.
And that will explain the tardiness of the appearance of today’s Diary. Apologies.
December 1st - Monday
There is nothing quite like the prospect of having your GP becoming digitally intimate with you to get your morning off to a flying start. I know that it was all in a good cause and all that, but it was very unlikely that I would warmly thank him and even less likely shake his hand afterwards. As it happened, we talked each other out of it on the grounds that it would have been a superfluous procedure, which is what I had agreed with the previous doctor I saw. Quite why they do not read notes, I will never understand.
Still, going over to St Just on the greyest morning we have had for a while was not entirely a wasted trip. We have an honoured guest arriving tomorrow and I needed a fatted calf. Actually, we had been in touch about the evening menu and had agreed that a fatted chicken would probably do, even if Mother was going to be there, too. I walked to the very good butcher in Chapel Street straight after my appointment at the surgery. Having overdone my walking in St Just just three days earlier, you would have thought that I should have learnt my lesson and taken the truck around there. Some folks is just hard of learning, now ent they.
I purchased the appropriate quantity of fatten chicken according to my instructions – we had four breasts and six thighs, so I have to assume we were lucky they had two three-legged chickens to serve us with. There is usually a fair amount of nattering when I visit, although probably rather less than usual since I only saw them on Friday. Part of the conversation was just how stormy and dark it was out. I must confess that I had not particularly noticed on my way over. I must have had something else on my mind. Anyway, by the time I got out of the shop, it was tipping down outside, and a fair breeze was blowing in, something I had definitely not noticed down in The Cove. When I looked later, the wind was coming in from the south and later in the afternoon it peaked at fifty miles per hour at Land’s End. St Just was far more exposed to it and even early in the morning, it was fair whipping in through the streets.
The rain became the main feature of the day after that and earned its yellow warning. We had been given one on Saturday that did not amount to a hill of beans, which makes a bit of a mockery of the whole system. I had noted bit of a gap that I had intended to exploit to take the girls around the block. Then I fell asleep and missed it and ended up taking them around in the rain.
The Missus had leapt into action not long after I got back from St Just. She had plans to put the big trees up across the road today and, with some effort, I managed to dissuade her. The weather is forecast to be better tomorrow, although it could not have got much worse than it was today for tree assembling. Instead, she enlisted the help of some Lifeboat crew who were hanging about at the station to make a start on Santy’s grotto in the viewing gallery and to put the station lights up in the top windows.
I am sure she would dearly have loved to have the Christmas trees ready. Tonight was the grand lights switch on, although, it is an exceedingly underwhelming event. You would think that they might have invited a local, internationally renowned Diarist and author to switch them on. Who knows, perhaps The Cove does not have someone like that, or he had something better to do. Anyway, the lights went on without the trees this year and even then, they looked the business. They stretch all the way down to the OS and across to the wharf. It would be encouraging to think that some of the other businesses down the road might take advantage and add a little embellishment of their own.
The grand display was very short lived. I told the main man that we had trouble with the panel last year when it was particularly inclement: the system trips out and has to be reset. The long string down the road duly went out an hour after lighting up. Our man had turned up anyway to make sure everything was alright and he blamed a bulb in the first string. I still think it is the panel and the rain, but he will be here tomorrow to fix whatever the problem is.
Shortly after finishing the lights in the station’s upper windows, the Missus decided that she needed some additional tinsel for Santy to play with. As she was heading into town, I suggested that she do the remaining grocery shopping for our esteemed guest’s visit tomorrow. She thought this a capital idea and was duly absent for the next three hours.
With light beginning to fade, I thought that I had better take the girls out for a last spin on the beach. They had fallen into depression with the Missus gone and were moping about the place. A good run would do them good especially as the rain was abating and, according to the rain radar, we were seeing the last of it for the day. No sooner than we had hit the beach than the rain decided to have one last fling and we returned to the flat thoroughly damp. BB is quite happy to be blow dried having initiated from an early age. We had done the same with ABH but now she is a moody teenager, she runs and hides first, and I have to wait for an opportune moment to grab her.
The next time we went out, the steps were completely dry. It is remarkable how quickly that can happen. It will have been helped by an increase in the ambient temperature today but due to the wind and rain, it certainly did not feel like a balmy thirteen degrees. Not bad for the beginning of December, which will account for the pent-up release of Christmas songs all over Radio Pasty as I drove to St Just. Season’s bleddy greetings to you too.