The first of several posts in my Cornish Winter Break series relating to Falmouth.
I continue my series about my Cornish Winter Break. Today’s is the first of what will be quite a few posts dealing with the last trip that I made as part of that holiday. This trip was unique in two ways among those I made during this holiday:
It was my idea
It featured a train journey
My mother and I got on the train at St Germans at 10:36, changed at Truro for the shuttle service to Falmouth Docks, and arrived at Falmouth just after 12:00. Falmouth was a planned port, first built in the late 16th century to provide an extra starting point for the export of china (it was intended to augment the existing port of Fowey, not challenge it – the person who planned it was actually a native of Fowey). It is a magnificent setting (my camera battery ran out before the end of the trip, but not before I had taken some fine pictures). After a pause to orient ourselves we headed for the National Maritime Museum Cornwall, which will get several posts of its own. The museum occupied as for quite some time, and then we had a brief look at the rest of the town, but I was getting tired by then, and we headed back not very long after finishing at the museum. I intend to revisit both the town and the museum.
An account of cooking my signature dish to serve six, plus a mention of a new book about autism.
This one will be somewhat different from the other posts in my Cornish Winter Breakseries – it is about the supper I cooked for six people near the end of my stay. I accompany it with pictures that don’t belong to any of the places I give specific posts to. Before getting into the main body of the post I have a small matter to attend to:
A NEW BOOK ABOUT AUTISM
“Not Weird, Just Limited Edition: Inside the Autistic Mind” is now available in kindle and paperback. It is by Faye Flint, who happens to be the niece of NAS West Norfolk chair Karan McKerrow. I am looking forward to reading it, and you may be sure that when I have done so I will give it a full blog post. If you wish to join me in ordering a copy click here – the kindle version is the third item down and the paperback is the sixth.
I was cooking my signature dish – my own version of Lemony Chicken and Coriander (the original recipe is by Madhur Jaffrey, but I have made so many changes that I now claim this as entirely my own. For a description of the cooking process when I do it for myself visit this post. This version differed from my usual in several ways – I was cooking twice as much (it reheats superbly, so cooking three meals worth at once works well), my mother was cooking rice tog with it whereas I do pasta, and there was also going to be broccoli. Additionally, rather than having fresh lemons to squeeze I was using a bottle of lemon juice. The meal came together beautifully, the bottled lemon juice worked pretty much as well as the real thing, and the final product was excellent – a view evidenced by the fact that hardly a molecule of it was left at the end of the meal. I am aware that different cultures have different opinions on this matter, but as far I am concerned a total lack of leftovers is a sign of success in this situation.
An overview of the visit to Charlestown during my Cornish winter break, and a warning – this place is overhyped.
For one reason or another it has been eleven days since I last found time to put up a blog post, but now it is time to continue with my series about my Cornish Winter Break. In my previous postI brought the curtain down on a remarkable day in which we visited Tintagel and then the Jamaica Inn. This post, the first of two about Charlestown, is somewhat different in nature.
A JOURNEY UNDER FALSE PRETENSES
The trip to Charlestown, a preserved Georgian port, was planned with high expectations due to a claim on its behalf that it is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Actually it is under consideration for that status, and based on my visit has little chance of being awarded it. It has an attractive harbour, and a few other points of interest, notably a shipwreck museum that will form the subject of my next post, but it did not come close to living up the hype. Do not put Charlestown down as an absolute must visit – if you are staying very close then it may be worth your while, but it is not somewhere to attempt to make a day of.
Continuing my account of my Cornish holiday with a mention of the Jamaica Inn.
Welcome to the latest installment in my series about my Cornish winter break. Just before I get to the main meat of the post there is…
MY NORFOLK HOSPICE STORY
I have been working with the Norfolk Hospice on an account of my story that they can use for publicity purposes. It is now online and can be read by clicking here.
This features in the novels of Daphne Du Maurier and Rosamunde Pilcher (the latter is apparently a bigger draw these days). The Inn, a former coaching inn and smuggling hotspot, serves a good range of drinks at prices that are not sufficiently much over the odds to cause real annoyance. I opted as usual for their locally brewed real ale (they also had a few less local options, notably a couple of beers that clearly came from Dartmoor). The decorations are quite impressive, and there is an ever changing display of foreign banknotes pinned up by customers – my nephew added some Indonesian money while we were there. It was a fine adjunct to the Tintagel trip.
There is a lot to see up on the heights, where I left us last time, and I enjoyed every moment of it. Once we got back to the bridge (see the first post in this ‘series within a series‘) it was time for a decision. The others wanted to go down to the beach to finish, whereas I had by that stage reached a limit, and opted to get the Land Rover back up from the landward side of the bridge (there is a pick up point a very short walk from the bridge). We agreed to meet at the pub near the top of the Land Rover’s run. The Wootons as it is called is very unflashy pub, unlike a couple of others in the area, and I was pleased to find a pint that I had not previously sampled. Although this brings the visit to Tintagel to a close, the next post will actually conclude my account of the outing.