The Sennen Cove Diary
March 5th - Wednesday
St Piran’s Day. He who made his way here on a small boat fashioned out of a millstone. On the balance of probability, it was probably an inflatable but was no less miraculous that he had enjoyed favourable winds all the way from Ireland and had evaded being sunk by a passing ferry.
I read a hypothesis that his arrival was part of an Irish invasion of West Cornwall. It is not so hard to imagine as some of the pure bred families hereabouts are short in stature, feature red hair and drink a lot of Guinness. Others are large and frightening, often times known as begorrahs.
Oh, never mind.
The day fell in well with our run of fine weather. It did seem especially cold this morning in part due to the change in wind direction, now coming from the east. We did not feel much of that down in The Cove but up at The Farm, it was much more marked. When I met our builder friend later, he remarked that he was glad that they chose yesterday to do the roof. Even then, with light airs, it was difficult moving the five metre sheets around.
It soon warmed up at the field and before very long, I was removing layers. My new overalls arrived while we were roofing yesterday. I opened the packet this morning, remembering my own advice to check things when they arrived in case they were wrong. I have tried them on, and they are a very robust garment and much thicker than my pink DIYman overalls. That, of course, maybe because my DIYman overalls are 20 years old or more and have worn thinner over time. The new ones will easily last another 20 years, although may not be the ideal wear for an octogenarian. Mind, Churchill seemed to carry it off alright. Perhaps I should start smoking Monte Cristo cigars and sticking two fingers up at people in readiness.
I was not allowed to wear the new ones today. There is far too much risk this close to the end of the project. I am not superstitious like that but there again I do not agree with taking unnecessary risks either. I wore my pink DIYman overalls despite the cuffs hanging off and two of the poppers missing so that the gaping hole at the front catches on everything I pass by.
The Missus disappeared with Mother into the potting shed, previously known as greenhouse and I did not see them again until the end of the day. I pressed on with the manufacture of the doors. The frame I had problems with yesterday was eventually beaten into submission. I then had four perfectly square frames ready to have the spare transparent cladding attached. As if the door frames were not already heavy enough, I had to add additional timber to accommodate the corrugation of the cladding and to fill a hole that appeared where I had to make a cutout for the bolts.
It took all the time we had to finish the four doors but at least they are finished, although they are not yet installed. My previous thinking about hinges and the movement of the door did not really include the cladding. I had purchased robust and stainless hinges but at the last knockings of our working day when I looked at it, they will not permit the door to open more than 90 degrees. It requires some thought but I may have to install a deeper door frame or longer hinges or possibly both.
We had to break up early today. The sea state took a bit of a break today. Indeed, one of the fishing boats went out for the first time since the last storms a while back. It is forecast to pick up where it left off on Thursday, so spotting the break in the weather, our duty Coxswain suggested a training exercise today at the earlier time of half past six o’clock to meet the tide on the short slip later in the evening.
Part of the training should include trying to get to the station in a timely manner. We have been beset with roadworks for the past several weeks and the latest ones sprung up at the top of the hill earlier this week. I am not sure it is the same mob as before, so I am not entirely sure what they are doing but whatever it is, they have set up traffic lights just past the brow of the hill which cover a stretch about two third of the rest of the way to the A30. The waiting time seems to be interminable but is probably only a few minutes. There only seems to be work going on at either end, so why the entire stretch needed to be covered, I have no idea. Today, there was no work at all going on in the controlled section, but two teams had half the road blocked off on the hill before it with no traffic control at all.
I note from the work that was carried out down in The Cove just before half term that the contractors had to repaint where they had cut through road markings. We are used to just six inches of double yellow lines being repainted in a stretch that are now barely visible down most of the street. The works had also cut a narrow channel through the KEEP CLEAR either side of the bus turning point. Yes, they repainted just the part of the letters they had disturbed, so the junction of the lines in ‘K’ the middle bar of the ‘E’s and so on. The workers have failed the words but words fail me to adequately describe such surreality.
Sorry, I digress. Now, where was I. Ah yes, we were about to launch the Lifeboat, and we did at the appointed time into a relatively placid sea with a bit of an eastly breeze blowing through. Since the tide was pushing in to high water not long after the boat was due back, we set up for a short slip recovery.
For once, we were heavily manned on shore and out numbered the Boat Crew who only had enough for the big boat to go to sea. Given our numbers and the new order to attain competency on various units of training for shore based crews, we gathered in the crew room after launching to do cover some of them.
The powers that be have ordained separate sections for high and low water launch and recovery. Certainly, for some of the units included in those sections, there are differences – not many for launch but certainly for recovery. However, there are also units such as PPE, pyrotechnics and emergency procedures which are the same for both and since there is very little guidance in these matters, I ordained that the same training would cover units for all gathered there for both high and low water. I will apologise later if that is not the case, but I certainly was not about to endure the pain and frustration of seeking permission.
Our training session did not take very long but met its objectives and left us time to retire to the upstairs crew room for tea and light conversation. We managed to have enough of conversation, much of which I did not hear because I had forgotten my false ears, to erode the time before the boat came back.
It was, of course, dark by then with Venus shining brightly near the western horizon. In the slipway floodlights we could see some moderate motion in the sea at the bottom, but it was not sufficient to mar what looked to me very much like a textbook recovery up the short slip. There was a bit of washing down and some very tidy putting away of quarter stoppers, spans and ‘fishing rods’ with only the minimum of water splashing on wellies. We are, after all, a very efficient, very excellent Shore Crew.
March 4th - Tuesday
I was up with the lark this morning, albeit quite a lazy one I imagine. The sun was already shining madly, lighting up the bay and the big sploshy waves coming over the Harbour wall. Out in the bay it was more understated: there was less in the way of white water but the rolling, heavy swell was impossible to mistake.
ABH was a bit more keen to take me around the small block this morning and we were both surprised to see a small inflatable craft down at the bottom of the western slip ready to be launched. I watched carefully and it did seem that the conditions had given the launcher pause for thought. Quite why it has only occurred to him having reached the bottom of the slipway when it was perfectly obvious from the car park that launching would be utter madness, will forever remain a mystery. Having satisfied myself that he had no intention of launching, ABH and I went home a bit relieved.
They launched later in the tide, and I saw them packing up well after seven o’clock in the evening when I took ABH around. They are regulars launching from the Harbour, so almost certainly know the score. It still puzzled me why they set up so early because they would needed to have waited a couple of hours for safe conditions.
As if to prove the point, one of the channel markers being worked on yesterday, escaped and went on a little trip down Tribbens and beyond. It came back later in the tide and the Inshore boat launched again to secure it a bit more tightly this time. It will not be long before the waves have one of them again and it is a regular battle to keep them in place.
I had taken time to prepare as much as possible all my morning chores the night before. I had even made some sandwiches so that I did not have to tarry for breakfast. Therefore, there was little I had to do that would get in the way of getting the Missus up to The Farm giving me enough time to come back and pick up our roofing volunteers. I also wanted to progress a resolution to our wrong parcel situation when the supplier opened at nine o’clock.
The latter did not take very long. The very pleasant lady I spoke with assured me she would arrange for a courier to pick it up tomorrow but, once again, we would need to wait in all day because, for collections, the courier could not guarantee a time. It was not ideal, but we had little choice but by the end of the day, I had not received a notification to expect a courier. I will have to call the company in the morning to ensure that the collection has been arranged.
I had been looking forward and fearing today in equal measure. It marked the beginning of the end of the project but also there were uncertainties about measurements and so forth and I was working with at least one professional builder who would no doubt point out limitations that I had hitherto not considered.
I collected them both. When we had made the agreement, there was still mud in abundance. The situation is much better now, but there was no hardship in collecting and taking them home at the end of it all. They did not hang about, either, when we arrived at The Farm and before very long the first three tops of the main posts were being lopped off – I had already done the first and it had passed muster, apparently. The first panels came on quickly and the first problems emerged. Because of the way the corrugation fell at the edge of the building, an additional batten was required. Fortunately, after many past building projects, I have quite a collection of spare timber and had just the thing. The same occurred at the other end, too, which was almost as easily resolved.
We also discovered that the roof sheet supplier had supplied half of the correct profile foam edge fillers and half the incorrect ones. It was not something we could do anything about other than for me to make a mental note to check deliveries when they arrived in future. We made do with the wrong ones which we put on the north side and live in hope that weather from the north will never be severe.
The boys took half the time we all imagined that it might take to complete the roof. Initially, I had been in some demand to answer queries about this and that. Once they had got going and I was no longer needed, I started on the lower half of the doors I had started last time I was there. One of the rectangular frames came together perfectly and I fully expected the same to be true of the smaller one, but it was not. The mitres looked correct from one side but abominable from the reverse. I had noticed this right at the last knocking and will have to take it apart start again. Elsewhere on the project, some inaccuracies were acceptable but not really for the doors.
We could not have had a better day for the work, nor could we have had better volunteer workers. We have known both for a number of years and happily they have known each other for some while, too. By the middle of the afternoon, the roof was complete, and I had taken both back home again. The weather was immaculate, with the brightest of sunshine and just a hint of cold breeze taking the edge off quite warm sunshine. All in all, I am glad that it is over.
My remaining work on the greenhouse will be to complete the doors and install the launders. In the main, though, the building is complete and while it might give a building inspector a coronary, it is solid enough. I make no apology in saying that I am more chuffed about it than I was wearing my first pair of grown-up trousers on our inaugural day of secondary school when I was eleven years old, and I had not made my own trousers then. Actually, I was not just chuffed about that, I was relieved, too. As I recall, I had insisted on long trousers at the time and knew on the first day that I had dodged a very hot bullet, when the one classmate who had worn shorts had the Michael verily ripped out of him all day for it.
One nearly finished greenhouse, inside and out. IBC for scale just to prove I have not been making a matchstick scale model to fool you on April 1st. Mind, I might have a scale model IBC, too.
March 3rd - Monday
Today turned out to be largely wasted. The gabion cages were being delivered and came with a four hour estimated delivery window, which the courier company missed completely. We left them to it and went up to The Farm anyway which we should have done at the very outset of the day. Whenever we did it, we would have regretted doing so.
There were certainly no regrets about enjoying the visual splendour we had bestowed upon us. The day was every bit as glorious as the two days before it and just as cold when I eventually took ABH around the block in the morning. She had woken me early and I encouraged her to go back to sleep again, which she did. When I got up, I expected her to follow like she normally does but once I had put on my walking out attire, she was nowhere to be seen. I looked everywhere and eventually concluded she must have gone back to sleep and found her under the covers in our bed. It was another half an hour – after I had poured out my tea – that she emerged. I put all my going out clothes back on and later came back to me cold tea.
I had been far too lazy last week and omitted my gymnasium sessions completely. I thought that I had better make amends especially as the gymnasium is now downstairs in the shop. With all the Christmas decorations still there and all the outside display bunched up in a huddle, there is precious little space for the rowing machine and even less for additional exercising. Even rowing involved pushing aside the occasional wetsuit that intervenes in the process. Nevetheless, I still managed a blistering session, although I fancy it was slightly less blistering than I would have had in the hut with a tin roof. For a start there is no machine to properly exercise my quadriceps and I will have to find a suitable alternative. Unbelievably, there is also not one square inch of empty wall against which I can roll up and down as I do my weighted squats. Given that is an important part of the routine, I will definitely need to find some way around it.
Being as the gymnasium is downstairs, I was also there and back much more quickly. I had also shortened the session and started early because the game plan was to deliver the Missus to The Farm and to rush back so that I did not miss the delivery. It would have been as risk as the estimated delivery window started at half past nine and I did not finish at the gymnasium until gone that. In any event, the Missus decided it was not worth the risk, and she would wait. She also said that she would keep an eye out while I went over to the builders’ merchant in St Just to get the cement. I could then take her up to The Farm after that.
By the time I came back from St Just, there was only an hour or less until the end of the delivery window, so surely it was worth waiting some more. It was not. The driver missed the window completely, so we decided not to wait any longer, left a note for the courier and headed to The Farm. The courier arrived ten minutes after we left.
We left in the blazing sunshine of a glorious day. The sea had moderated a good deal from yesterday, although at high water the waves were coming over the near end of the Harbour wall with some force. There was far less white water around, however and as the tide slipped away, the deep rolling swell lent itself to some decent surfing conditions, witnessed by two wave boarders just to the east of Cowloe.
The surfers were plying their sport just north of the Lifeboat channel where today the Inshore boat had been deployed fixing the channel markers. The boat had been launched from the big beach as there was insufficient water in the Harbour to float the boat out. I left them to it on this occasion.
Up at The Farm, we went our separate ways again. I thought that I would leave the Missus a while alone with her cherished digger. I am no good in those highly charged emotional moments so go on with my concreting far enough away not to be able to hear the sobs.
I had purchased another six bags of postcrete and used five and a half of them. I had just smoothed out another layer when our builder friend arrived with his two dogs. Mayhem ensued while all three hounds ran about the place chasing each other. It was only after they had run off down the field that I noticed the postcrete was mass of paw prints. Luckily, I had not yet poured water on it.
There was not much for me to do after I had finished with the concrete. There was too little time to start on the doors, so I decided to test the new water pump instead. The 20 millimetre hose is heavier than ordinary hose and not a thing to cart around watering plants. The first aim is to transfer water between IBCs so that I can move them and eventually I intend to install it more permanently so that water in the greenhouse will be on tap at the flick of a switch. That would be next year provided my undickied knee comes goo in time.
The Missus finished washing down the digger with a different hose arrangement, one with a squirter at the end of it while I cleared away the bigger hose that had worked admirably. We had forgotten the digger bucket that the Missus had mainly used and that was only changed yesterday when she repaired the lane. The bucket had earth stuck inside it that seemed to require a chisel to break loose. Since I had locked up the toolshed, I managed some of it with a handy trowel that had been left lying around.
The sun was well on its way to the horizon by the time we left The Farm behind. I had a message earlier to say that our delivery had been made and intended to slip it into the back of the truck, ready for tomorrow. When we arrived back home, there was an enormous box blocking the doorway. On it in big print was “Acoustic Slatwall Panel”. It looked the shape and size for acoustic slatwall panel, but I rather hoped that it was a repurposed box used for the gabion cages. This looked even less likely when the Missus found another box in the newspaper box and that one had “Gabion cage” written on it. I had been a little surprised when I saw we were getting two packages but assumed that the gabion cages were too heavy for the one box.
It was too late to call the company, so I sent a message instead. I will call in the morning, but we will be up against it because I am picking up the volunteer roofers at half past nine o’clock. Even getting up early, it is going to be a very busy morning indeed.
March 2nd - Sunday
The sea was fair dancing in the bay this morning. It had clearly learnt how to misbehave and was upping its game and enjoying stretching its muscle just to mix a few metaphors about it. With the water swirling in the Harbour, we were compelled to go around the block again. It is unlikely that we will get to the beach this week as we will be at The Farm during the period of low water.
I have given up on shooting and the range completely now. There is just too much to do between now and shop opening and every minute will be precious for one achievement or another. At the moment it is all about The Farm, although I have a couple of pressing messages to send giving advanced notice to suppliers of our intentions. For once, the small gods of grumpy shopkeepers have conceded some ground and have let us operate in near perfect weather.
Again today, I went ahead without my jacket on, although I did have the usual layers as it was a bit cold first thing. It was cool enough to remain that way for the rest of the day and despite some sunshine between the clouds we never really had the full benefit of the sun.
I collected Mother and then came back for the Missus. Arriving at The Farm was the last time I saw the Missus until tea break and then she disappeared up the lane with the digger to do some road repairs. It is the last two days that we have the digger, so I can hardly blame her for taking advantage. Not only has she completed an enormous workload, she has had more fun than rolling around in a big box of fun things all labelled ‘fun’.
While she was unashamedly enjoying herself, I set to with the greenhouse doors. Since I still do not know where the ground will be, I decided that at least I could make the upper doors because they do not need to know where the ground is. All I had to do was to make two perfectly square frames of the correct dimensions. Knowing that any eejit could do that I decided that it would be far harder to do it using mitred corners with none of the right tools like a mitre saw. Any eejit would also have looked at the wealth of advice available on the Internet before attempting such a feat, so I studiously avoided such cheating. If that were not making the job nigh on impossible, I also discovered that there was not one big enough level surface at The Farm to ensure that the frame was flat, either.
Before all of that, I wanted to install some timber as door frames. The posts are set too far back and if we wanted the doors to open out flat against the side of the greenhouse, and we do, the frame would need to be at least level with the side. I used some 3x2 which when installed was flush. Later in the evening, I reviewed that decision and thought that I may change them with the 4x2 I have which will protrude a bit more. The only trouble with that is that the cladding on one side would need to be cut back. The other issue with that is I do not have screws long enough and there are only three anchor points if I want to screw from the side.
At the time, however, such detail eluded me, and I pressed on with making the door frames. Meticulously measuring the width of the doorway, I divided that number in two as the width of each door. It did not take long to cut four lengths of timber at one length and another four at another. All the mitres were done free hand using a circular saw that I reasoned would cut the straightest cuts. Because the circular saw did not cut deep enough, I finished each cut with a hand saw. All the cuts looked alright but only putting them together would prove whether they were good enough.
None of the corners were good enough, although some just about worked with a bit of imagination and a blind eye. Others were slightly more fraught and needed some fine adjustment. I used my square to make sure that each corner was at 90 degrees and while clamped, screwed them into position. Quite how then the last corner was not 90 degrees will remain a mystery in my head. I think you are supposed to put all four corners together without joining them first, ensure the corners are 90 degrees, then measure the diagonals. Then, when all that is tickety-boo, clamp the ensemble and then screw them together. I think I was lucky – twice – getting the door frames as square as I did. They will work as doors because they have to.
The other bicycle wheel in the icing sugar was when I came to place the doors in the door frame, they were at least 20 millimetres too wide. My meticulous measurements were clearly something I had dreamt up. The intention was that I would shave 15 millimetres off each door but from a starting point that my saw blade is a couple of millimetres wide, it was never going to be that accurate.
I disassembled my carefully crafted door frame, shaved two of the sides and put it all back together again. I very quickly discovered that my shaving had been a little over-enthusiastic and that the second door did not need to be touched. It does, of course, mean that the doors are now not of equal size and somehow, I will have to repeat the accidental mismatch for the lower doors. I do not have the time to start over and I consoled myself that along with the crooked front, the back being shorter and the front – or the other way around – the uneven sized door will fit in very nicely to the whole greenhouse build philosophy. It will catch on, I am sure, and I will be holding lectures at the Bartlett School of Architecture before very long.
Oddly, I did not feel in the least disheartened by my failure to achieve door making perfection. Perhaps, I am just used to such things by now. I did, however, feel quite weary and welcoming of a bit of a sit down somewhere comfortable. Mother was of much the same mind but it took a bit of persuading to encourage the Missus to put the digger away so we could go home.
Once home we enjoyed a traditional builder’s fried breakfast for tea with extra cholesterol on the side and big tin mugs of steaming tea. We regaled each other with tales of big hammers, swing shovels and manly tools in the comfort of the knowledge that we would be doing it all again tomorrow – with the possible exception of the big fried breakfast.
March 1st - Saturday
There, by four o’clock in the morning I had a reasonably detailed outline of how the stable doors for the new greenhouse will come together. The only thing that eluded me was how they might be secured closed. Initially I considered a simple bar dropped into slots on the front but not long after I thought that I might use the spare cladding sheets as facings for the doors which would preclude any furniture on the front. I thought that the Missus might want to close the bottom doors and leave the top ones open which would mean separate locks top and bottom but I really needed to consult with he to make sure.
ABH must have been aware how keen I was to get cracking on the new phase of the build and had me up early. It was another stunning day to behold but the sea had commandeered the Harbour, so we went all the way around the block again, which now seems to be becoming a routine. There is absolutely nothing wrong with a walk in the weather we had today even if at that time in the morning it was quite sharp as the sun had not yet got into full swing.
Despite the cold, I omitted a layer under my DIYman overalls this morning and dispensed with my thermal waterproof leggings when I got ready for The Farm. Yesterday, I suffered as most of my time was in the truck and when I did get up to The Farm it was pleasantly warm. I reasoned today, actually doing some work, I would be uncomfortable in the extra layers. I was right and not long into working, another layer came off.
The Missus only has the digger for another couple of days. I have looked up on the Internet what the likely withdrawal symptoms might be and whatever they are they will be at the extreme end because the Missus will be going cold turkey when the man comes to collect it. I could not find any information and am considering making a quick replica instead of the doors over the next few days, just to help a bit. Today, she did her best by mixing her day between using the digger and the tractor in about a 50:50 ratio.
She has had the idea of building a hedge along behind the greenhouse with the rocks that we have in abundance in the geet dump of subsoil we have at the end of the field. There are a few exponents of the Cornish hedge build dotted around locally who probably spent ten years in apprenticeship and another ten perfecting the craft. The Missus will probably throw our wall up during the summer between growing things. First though, she is amassing the required rocks by transferring them from the bottom of the field to the top in the tipping trailer. There is value in those rocks, so if the hedge does not work out, we can sell them.
Before we came up to The Farm in the morning, I ordered the gabion baskets on which to place the IBCs. I know, dear reader, I am really asking a lot for you to remember two obscure references to enhance your reading, erm, pleasure. I apologise. The gabion baskets will need to be filled with stones. The gabion baskets are being placed not a, ahem, stone’s throw from the pile of rocks that the Missus is amassing for her hedge. Do not look at me like that, dear reader, I am merely pointing out the facts.
While the Missus was amassing rocks, I was digging for victory. The victory in this case is the completion of the greenhouse doors. Before I can determine the dimensions, I need to determine where the ground is. That may sound obtuse but the ground on one side of the door is higher than the ground on the other side of the door. I had intended to level it by placing a concrete ‘mat’ that would also serve to keep the natural growth away from the operation of the door without me having to leave too big a gap at the bottom. It was bad enough with the sliding doors.
I had not intended to make the concrete mat too thick, but it had to be thick enough to withstand regular foot fall and the passage of the occasional wheelbarrow without cracking. First though I had to peel back the ant-weed matting that the Missus had meticulously installed a task that was made more difficult by the number of weeks growing through it. I also marked out the area which amounted to a space three and a half metres by one metre.
When I looked at it and calculated the amount of concrete required, I very quickly abandoned the idea. I had intended to use postcrete, which while being inappropriate, was quick and easy and I was running out of time. It would also have required more bags than I could contemplate, and it would have been indefensibly costly. I reassessed and we will now have a wide doorstep that will give me the level I need for the door height and the rest will have to be maintained with matting and gravel.
It took far longer than anticipated to dig out the hole and given the amount of earth removed, would take far more bags of concrete than I had. I could not really have made the hole any shallower and even then I put in a layer of hardcore and some wire to strengthen the resulting pad. I estimate that the two and a half bags of concrete I had to hand only filled a third of the hole. A trip to our builders’ merchant is looming on Monday. I have also discounted putting a similar mat at the other end of the greenhouse, certainly this year. That end will have to rely on matting and maintenance to keep it clear.
We worked through until the sun was low in the sky. One of the first things I did when I arrived at The Farm was to make a quicky ABH proof barrier for the gate, which seemed effective; she was contained all day in the field. It crossed my mind whether she is content to be at The Farm all day, but she will have to get used to it because with the greenhouse complete, the Missus will be up there all day when the shop is open.
When we drove back down to The Cove, it was clear that the sea had started to misbehave in our absence. It was looking a bit lively in the Harbour first thing but had really upped its game for the evening high water. I never fail to be amazed just how quickly it can go from placid to rough. We would be sleeping with the sound of thumping waves tonight, for sure.
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