Biking along the Camel

Friday night saw our little yellow Saxo hoofing it along the motorway with our bags in the boot, bikes on the back and us in the front. We arrived at Liskeard after one stop at a picnic place where we shared the seat with a blackberry and some stinging nettle (well Harry did - I opted for leaning on the car bonnet) and after unpacking and a short trip around the town decided that there wasn't much to see on a quiet Friday night so we opted for a reasonably early night.  That was before Harry exhausted himself doing a Lenny Henry act by jumping backwards onto the bed - unfortunately he'll have to do it all over again when we stay at that hotel chain again because I didn't use the flash and the photos came out too dark - he wasn't too impressed but he slept well!! Saturday we were off to Bodmin (in the car) and then Padstow (on the bikes). The bike track runs along the old railway line virtually flat but with a wind which always seemed against us no matter which direction we were travelling.   Along the Camel River we cycled and then along side the estuary which at low tide was a big mud puddle with a few sand banks as we got closer to Padstow.  I love those  boats stranded by the low tide and the way owners tend them during that natural dry dock.  The bird life is meant to be quite something - and we did see something that looked a bit like an egret and the wildflowers - mainly yellow here - irises, butter cups and daisies. The bike path was quiet - a good place for a knocked down cyclist to get her confidence back (just have to watch out for kids, walkers and dogs - this was no place for serious cyclists as pedestrians have right of away).  Lots of people our age enjoying the reasonably flat ride and the sunshine.  Past lots of old stations with names like Grogley Halt, Dunmere Halt and Nanstallon Halt where the only thing looking pristine and cared for was the name of the station.

All the way to Padstow - a cute little fishing village come tourist spot, with a nice beach you could walk to by traversing a hill, a port stranded by the tide, nice little buildings that were either homes, shops (home of cornish pasties and fudge), or cafes and a highly recommended fish and chip shop which we were told we had to try.  Fudge was great, fish and chips a bit more like we get in NZ and coffee hot - so we were happy chappies (or should I say chippies).  We enjoyed a walk in the sunshine up the hill and over the top where we past lots of seats dedicated to the memory of past visitors and residents. The seats were in a long row and were something special - instead of the seats all looking the same with a little dedication plate - many of the seats were different ie wrought iron sides, one plank of wood, lots of planks and some even different colours.  I quite liked the random nature of it all - it sort of says lots about the people that frequent this little village.  We wandered the hill to Prideaux Place which was closed on Saturdays so peered over the fence and through the opened gate - another time maybe - knowing we had a long bike ride (21 kms in fact) back to the car we decided we wouldn't walk further up the hill to get a birds eye view of this mansion - we'd leave that to the seagulls.  So, back along the disused railway line and back through the wooded path to Bodmin (with a stop at Wadebridge - where we hoped to go to the Royal Cornwall Show but decided after following a bus (with the show as its destination) for a while that it was a few more kilometres out of town than we wanted to travel).

Question: Why is fudge better when made in Cornwall?  Answer it isn't the clotted cream or buttermilk they use but the original Cornish recipe is boiled in a copper kettle.
Question: Why do cornish pasties taste better in Cornwall?  We don't think they do - whatever happened to that traditional recipe?

It is world cup time over here and it is almost feverish.  Every where we go cars are sporting little English flags - some as many as 10 blowing in the wind (and sometimes off in the wind) as cars drive to the nearest tv.  Saturday was England's first game - against a little   less favourite team the US.  How could we resist watching. In the evening we opted for a dinner at the inn next to the hotel and watching game in the bar with a few others. We enjoyed the game but also the reaction of the crowd as England scored a goal and then the keeper fumbled a catch to give US the equaliser. Poor Mr Green - I bet you he wanted to crawl into his bed and cover his head that night. There was an article on the radio driving home about coaches and Des O'Connor admitted he thought Prince Charles would be the best coach as he could encourage his team before a game with "One wouldn't want one one would one". On Tuesday Harry and I were saying "Yes one would" as NZ drew against Slovakia (nothing on the news - I guess the oil spill, report on Bloody Sunday, problems in Uzbekistan were considered higher priority) and we keep wondering why there is not a special news time like at home.  Anyway, back to the pub. We were seated behind a group of young men - who half way through the game noticed us and Harry's Hurricanes tee-shirt. The game must have been boring because for the next 30 minutes they would turn to us and make comments and then came over for a conversation on the merits of northern and southern hemisphere rugby, Super 14 and other rugby topics such as the Australian vs England, and NZ vs Ireland games played earlier that day as well as a bit of family history like parents retiring to Blenheim.  The end of the game produced lots of head shaking,  despondent looks and more consumption of beer. While walking back to the hotel I wondered if you lined up the people staying at the hotel and tried to pair them with the cars parked outside how many you could accurately pair up. Would we get paired with the £100,000 Ferrari, the new red and white mini, a black sedan or our little car. Interesting trivia really.  Next day we took off to Tintagel where we followed a similar path to our bike ride the previous day. We were glad we hadn't taken the 'high' road with cars the day before as there were a few more hills than we had tackled. We stopped at Tintagel Post Office which is a 14th-century stone house in the middle of the seaside village.  It was really a house but in the 19th century the house was used as the district letter-receiving office.  Lovely spring garden and great wavy roof that sort of says "Come inside". There we met Sam the volunteer whose husband and son have gone to a jam processing plant in Geraldine leaving her behind to complete her immigration details. Think she is looking forward to joining them.  Tintagel Castle was only a stones throw away from the post office - well if you don't count the big down and up in between.  We climbed the 100 odd steps to one part of the castle had our picnic (international cuisine for us - Spanish grapes, Kiwi shapes and Italian biscuits - not particularly nutritious but light to carry up all those steps). Erosion has taken its toll which original walls having fallen in and a large gap appearing between two parts of the castle.  This is where the legend of King Arthur was born - somewhere around the 13th Century Castle - when it was still relatively new and in the ownership of Richard, Earl of Cornwall.  

And then onto Boscastle which was devastated by floods in 2004 - I can remember seeing some footage in tele back in NZ.  We saw a short video of the flood in the museum wandered towards the breakwaters and little harbour and then back to the car just as the rain came.  

And last but not least.  We were talking to Mike and Barbara last week about the election.  They mentioned that constituency's (that's the English name for electorates) are not the same size in England.  "What!!" I said in shock "Surely not!! That means everyones' vote isn't equal - or should I say some are more equal than others".  But over lunch and a coffee they continued this story about political boundaries and so arriving back in Bristol I did some research. Most electorates are somewhere between 70,000 and 90,000 voters but  the smallest is around 21,000 (Western Isles) and largest electorate the Isle of Wight with 108,000 voters.  No wonder people are calling for reform.  Labours strong holds are the smaller sized seats so they don't want

 reform while the Lib Dems want proportional representation and the Conservatives are looking only for equal constituency sizes.  All looking like a good debate going forward - and guess what - they will be looking to New Zealand and Australia for guidance and advice.  Mike and Barbara did express surprise that we were allowed to vote - so finally I got around to looking up "Who can not vote in a UK parliamentary election?"  The answer is young people under 18, foreign nationals unless you are a citizen of the Irish Republic or commonwealth countries living in Britain, members of the House of Lords, sentenced prisoners, people convicted within the previous five years of illegal election practices.  So, we were eligible after all!  

Harry went to the optician on Monday and the optician is immigrating to NZ in a fortnights time (that's Number 3 for people we have heard of in one weekend going to Kiwiland).