A bit about leafleting for the Green Party and a photo gallery.
There are local elections coming up in May. As a member of the Green Party I am delighted that they have two excellent candidates standing in the centre of my town, officially known as St Margaret and St Nicholas Ward (King’s Lynn Minster was St Margaret’s Church before its promotion to being a Minster, while St Nicholas Chapel is it’s North End counterpart). I am helping with the leafleting – I did some yesterday and plan to do more tomorrow. The northern boundary of the ward is marked by a railway spur only a few minutes walk from my house, which means that my leafleting area is all within easy walking range.
I got an email about upcoming campaigns on Thursday evening, noted that one of them was for Rob Archer, a former railway worker who was only just short of being elected first time round, and emailed him to say that I would be round on Saturday morning. Having established that his home was somewhat closer to the South Gate than to the town centre, and with a stated start time of 10:00 I set off at 9:30, duly arrived at 10, and was entrusted with a pile of leaflets and a map of the northern part of the ward, at which point I set off. I did two streets, Wyatt Street (too old to have been named after Danielle Wyatt, but there could be a connection to former Warwickshire and England skipper Bob Wyatt) and Kettlewell Lane on my way home, then I took a short break, and set forth again, polishing off Archdale Street (another with possible cricket connections – England Women’s first ever skipper Betty Archdale, and Somerset keeper the reverend Archdale Palmer Wickham), Eagle Yard, Eastgate Street and their side of Gaywood Road.
The current leaflet, a double sided A4 sheet in the form of a newsletter (which means it has to be folded to fit through almost all letterboxes) is highly impressive:
Yesterday’s activity contributed to a splendid photo gallery, and this morning’s walk augmented it. These pictures both showcase some of the natural sights that King’s Lynn has to offer, and in some cases further illustrate why more Green councillors are badly needed:
Concluding my account of the day at St Michael’s Mount as we near the end of my series about my visit to Cornwall.
Welcome to the latest installment in my series of posts about my recent visit to Cornwall. This post completes the day at St Michael’s Mount, leaving me with a post to do about the journey home and finally a page from which all the posts about this trip can be accessed. The fact that this will mean (including the page) 13 pieces relating to the trip bothers me not a jot – I have no more time for triskaidekaphobia than I do for any other ridiculous superstition.
WRAPPING UP ST MICHAEL’S MOUNT
Having finished our exploration of the mount itself it was time for lunch, which was excellent. The establishment at which we ate our lunch has a rule that alcoholic drinks can only be served if food is ordered at the same time, and according to their interpretation cream teas do not count as food, so on two occasions in the course of that meal we ordered portions of chips to go with drinks. Mention of cream teas (a speciality of the far west of England) brings me to a debate that rages unchecked: which goes on the scone first, the cream or the jam? The cream advocates argue that cream in this context is the equivalent of butter (and if it is Cornish clotted cream it is so thick that one can pretty much slice it like butter!), and that if you put the cream on first you do not get jam in it. I am not sure what the jam advocates base their case on.
Lunch consumed it was time to head back to our parking place on the edge of Penzance. The tide was just starting to turn but was still a long way out, and unlike the Mont St Michel, on which the current setup of St Michael’s Mount is modelled the tide here comes in slowly (no danger of galloping horses being swallowed by an inrushing tide, as allegedly happened at Mont St Michel on one famous occasion), so we were still able to walk back across a vast expanse of beach to rejoin the official footpath just west of Marazion. I omitted to remove my socks and shoes for this part of the journey, and they ended up thoroughly soaked, although by the end of the walk they had dried out again (without the sea breeze the heat would have been fiendish).