For those of you who have just joined us, the Lifeboat was called to a yacht last evening. The purpose of the call was a little uncertain, but the two French crew had decided to disembark at Nanjizal and needed some encouragement to go back to the yacht. For some unexplained reason, this had taken two hours or more after which the Lifeboat escorted the yacht back to Newlyn. My personal theory is that they had been given an April Fool phrase book and when they thought they were saying, “everything is fine”, they were actually saying, “everyone’s going to die, call out the Lifeboat”. Due to tides and conditions, the Lifeboat elected to be back in The Cove at midnight, and thus the next Diary day, and the Very Excellent Shore Crew had mustered at half past eleven o’clock to receive them.
There was a howling gale blowing across the slipway at more than 40 miles per hour. It had applied sufficient pressure to the large wood doors to make them exceeding difficult to open and that was just the start of it. We have always dressed the long slipway to the right as we look at it from the top. There is no reason for this other than most of us are right-handed I suppose and because we only use the right hand side of the toe, it is only that side cleaned of slippery weed for operation.
It was therefore something of break with tradition when one of us suggested that we dress to the left. His reasoning was entirely practical: the howling gale was very likely to take any thrown heaving line from the boat over to the left from where we stood and therefore, to make it easy for the Boat Crew, us standing to the left would give them a better chance of a more accurate throw of the line. It was not all quite as altruistic as it seemed. If the Boat Crew missed twice, we would be down there longer waiting on them recoiling the lines to throw again.
There were just two stickleback in that particular sharks’ fin soup of a proposal, the first being that the left side of the slipway toe had never been used since it was built in 2009. This had permitted all manner of weed of the most slippery kind to grow and proliferate and make even looking at it hazardous. The second issue was the wind that would do its utmost to push us off the walkway, which on the right side meant onto the concrete part of the toe but on the left, cold, shallow water with rocks below the surface.
Fortunately, we are very excellent Shore Crew, and we are impervious, or at least insensitive to, matters such as existential dangers, well, just insensitive generally, really. And also, expendable. So, it was almost with gay abandon occasioned largely through ignorance rather than a total disregard for our wellbeing that we gingerly stepped down the erstwhile unused side of the long slipway, hauling cable and span behind us.
The boat duly arrived in the bay at the appointed time and one eejit Head Launcher and an accomplice eejit made their way across the weed strewn steps now even more slippery with the passage of previous boots, to the very bottom of the slipway. Balanced precariously against the gusting wind, with helmets replacing tin hats, strapped on against loss, the two were passed a dummy with the first throw heading west before it even reached them. The second, thrown more into the wind, arrived over head and made for an easier catch. We had kept the cable short so that the pickup from the winch when it came was nearly immediate and reduced any hanging around and allowing the two eejits to exit stage left as rapidly as slippery grating allowed.
For those further up the slip, it had been a demonstration of a textbook recovery in a trying easterly gale, the very first time it had been attempted from the western side of the long slipway. It was a shame, therefore, that no one could see it in the gloom at the end of the slip, even if they were looking. We tucked the boat away in a swift operation reserved for late nights after lengthy services at around quarter to one o’clock in the morning. We are, after all, a very unseen, very excellent Shore Crew.
All jesting aside for a moment, the act of bringing the boat astern, into the channel and landing it precisely in the keelway in a 40 miles per hour wind, was indeed a masterful demonstration of boat skills. Our new Coxswain was at the helm.
Amazingly, I managed to wake at the appropriate time in the morning without assistance. The assistance, noting that cold air was still pouring through the skylight, promptly burrowed under the covers and curled up by my leg. She clearly felt some guilt and was up after me a few minutes later. However, she was back in bed again very soon after we had taken the morning air, and I was making ready for the day.
The wind had damped down a bit by morning; I had gone to bed with it whistling in the eaves. It did not seem too bad when running ABH around the block first thing and I could almost have done without my windproof jacket. It had all the hallmarks of a super day in the offing with little in the way of cloud and an alluring glow on the eastern clifftops as the sun tried to put in an appearance.
Talking of alluring glows, I managed to get to the new gymnasium today for the first time in what must be a fortnight. I did not quite achieve the sort of performance that I am used to and some of the equipment that I use is no longer available to me. However, it permitted as good a blistering session as I might have expected after such a lengthy absence. As an added bonus, there was no water dripping from the ceiling and the ambient temperature was comfortable. I could get used to that.
ABH, who had been waiting in the shop, immediately expected to be taken around the block when I returned. I obliged her. It was perfectly warm in the sheltered spots around our walk. Even the Harbour beach was better off than the square feet outside the shop where I had to remove the flags lest they blow off somewhere, and behind the counter. I had set the first electric sliding door in The Cove to automatic almost first thing and it remained that way for most of the day.
Sadly, as with yesterday, the insistent wind suppressed visitor numbers and the street was mainly empty all day. Naturally, whenever tried to start something useful, the door would open and a solitary visitor would come in, browse, and go out again. While it may have seemed like a business day not worth getting out of bed for, it was actually busier than yesterday for which I am grateful, of course.
One of the people who has made opening in the quieter parts of last season, and this very worthwhile is our friend from frozen Vermont, very far west of Camborne. Surely, it still cannot be frozen, but she has not said. I doubt that I will find out now because we said our farewells as she prepares to journey back home. She purchased our entire fish stock before we closed for the winter and takes home with her more hooded sweatshirts than I recall amongst a host of other things she propped up our dwindling finances with over her stay. She gave succour in the last moments of an ailing juvenile seal’s life and, she says, enjoyed immensely the winter Cove life however remote it seems at times. She has also been interesting and convivial company, and we shall miss her greatly and wish her well.
The Missus had spent the day at The Farm, of course. Well, the bit after I returned to the shop after gymnasiuming, at least. I think that can be taken as read, for future days throughout the season. She and ABH return weary after a day labouring in the field and the evening is spent in quiet contemplation most times now. There is rarely an after tea walk and we settle for one last dash out before bedtime now. In short, the season has settled upon us very quickly this year and it will be thus for the next seven months. I will just reorder the words for The Diary, dear reader. You will hardly notice.
Perhaps I should have saved the story of the Hooper until today. The trouble with April fools’ pranks in the news today would be largely missed because it all looks vaguely unbelievable. Obviously, The Diary does not hold with such nonsense; every word in The Diary is true, honest guv.
The gale of wind that Radio Pasty warned of, and I missed the detail of when it would be, arrived today. I was not to bothered by it when I walked ABH out in the morning, mainly because we only went as far as Tinker Taylor cottage and came back and possibly because my sense of awareness had not fully woken up from my early start. It has not taken ABH long at all to adjust to British Summer Time and she was all over me this morning from about my new waking up time.
It was not long into the shop day, though, when the pushy easterly that increased slowly during the day and was blowing at me through the first electric sliding door in The Cove, had me chilled to the bone. I could have set the first electric sliding door to automatic, and had it shut for most of the time but as I have explained before, it only leads people to believe that we are closed. The closed door only attracts people to try and open it when we really are closed. Therefore, I stood and chilled.
Since I was cold anyway it was the ideal time for the frozen order to turn up. Naturally, it turned up halfway through breakfast which I had delayed because the last of the general deliveries was late. I had been quiet all morning but the delivery arrived with a selection of visitors who demanded my attention while the frozen boxes sat waiting on the floor. It was fortunate that it was cold today. I also had to spend some time trying to sort out the insistence of one of our suppliers to send the wrong thing three times.
I had ordered some Furniss strawberry shortbread. They had sent a different brand the first time yesterday and I had returned it with the driver having spotted it on the invoice sent in advance. The company sent a replacement halfway through the day which turned out to be Furniss shortbread but without the strawberries. I ordered it again for delivery this morning and I got the box back that I had returned the day before. I sent that back with the driver and spoke with a very pleasant lady on the telephone to plead that this time, they sent the correct thing. I told her that if I got the wrong thing again, I would be using very stern words next time. Fortunately, late in the business day, the right box appeared.
Setting aside the vicious wind for a moment, the bay looked spectacular under yet another clear blue sky. The sea is still trying its best to misbehave but it too was struggling against wind. At high water the waves, faced against the sharp incline of sand at the back of the beach, were tumbling hard onto it in a jumble of foam and spray. During the day, the sea gave the illusion of moving sideways as a mass of white tops raced westward. Later on, with lower tide, the tops of waves charging in on the shore, peeled off in long capes trailed behind them as they raced eastward. By the middle of the afternoon, loose sand was being blown out to sea giving the spray capes a yellow tinge. There was plenty of dust in the air, too, and fed up with being cold and covered in dust from some far off field, I set the first electric doors in The Cove to automatic and revelled in the warmth from the refrigeration plant in the room.
It was only moments after that a white van drew up outside. It was the arrival of the beachware order I had placed yesterday, eleven boxes to be pulled in making me open the first electric sliding door in The Cove again. I had not had the time to warm up, so it made little difference, but that wind had increased substantially since the morning and was gusting to 50 miles per hour. Land’s End weather station had the windchill down to five degrees, which it certainly felt like. I had sold the first windbreak of the season in the morning. I am sure I saw it whizz past in the afternoon.
That hearty wind had seen off even the hardiest of visitors early into the afternoon and I was left with waifs and strays passing through for the rest of the afternoon. The Missus came back a little earlier today because she had a Lifeboat meeting later in the evening. She left me to load up the delivery which I had left on our newspaper box outside; it just fitted in the truck, which was handy.
At the last knockings of the day, I had two lots of customers who arrived slightly apart from each other. I really do not know what I would do for entertainment if I did not do shopkeeping. The first were a couple of more senior years we have known for some time. He brandished a walking stick as he came through the door bemoaning what life and age had brought him to. I told him not to be so downhearted because with such a fine stick at his disposal he now had the opportunity to embellish it with one of our custom, Cove walking stick badges. He protested, of course, but I told him that it would add a touch of class to an otherwise commonplace utility item. I almost had him as well but when his wife came in on my side, he put his foot down quite forcibly and the game was lost.
The other customer was a small child. They are entertainment all by themselves. I feign frustration at the time they spend choosing sweets and the mystery they find in how much can be purchased with a limited handful of loose change. Even an accurate count on their part can lead to a surplus of money because the grumpy shopkeeper might happen to miss a packet of sweets here or there or charge a different price to the one on the label. Such antics are prone to backfire when the child insists on spending a further half an hour trying to find something it can purchase with the unexpected change.
I took my just deserts for such appalling behaviour in the middle of my tea when my Lifeboat pager went off calling me to arms. It was more legs, really, as I made my way swiftly across the road and down the stairs to kit up. The shout was well attended and the boat launched away in good time to a yacht moored in the lee of Nanjizil.
At first, the detail was sketchy. It seems the two French crew had disembarked for some reason via the yacht’s small tender. Quite why they required assistance to get back again or even if they did was not clear and still was not when it was all over. Communications with the Coastguard, Cliff Team who also attended and the Boat were non-existent. Even mobile communications were fraught. Eventually it emerged that the Lifeboat would stand by until the tender had safely got back to the yacht, but the Lifeboat was milling about for two hours while that happened. I made the suggestion that the Lifeboat could have taken the crew back to the yacht and left the small tender behind but only so that I could say, small tender behind that I felt might be quite amusing except that only one person got it. When at last the crew were back on board, we expected our boat to return to the station but instead the yacht’s crew had asked escort them back to Newlyn.
Having set up the short slip in expectation of a recovery sooner, we had to put everything back and close up the station until we knew when the boat would come back. It was mooted that midnight would be likely but from the comfort of my lounge chair, I noted that the Lifeboat had reached Newlyn by ten o’clock and rather hoped they would be back earlier. It was not to be. The tide and the continuing wind made it safer to wait for the tide to drop a little more and the midnight recovery was back on again. All we could do was wait.
I had confirmation that the boat would indeed aim to be on the slipway at midnight. I sent out a message to our happy band to muster at the station at half past eleven o’clock, which they duly did. It was then too close to midnight for this Diary writer and the excitement that ensued would have to wait until tomorrow’s action packed Sennen Cove Diary.
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