Category Archives: Living in UK

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Trapped In The Tower – When Your Internet Service Goes Missing

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I’m writing this in hopes that someone will see it and know that I am still here.

Most of last week I’ve been stuck in the dark hole of little to no internet service. There are brief flashes where for a few moments it seems as if I’ve been set free by the return of easy fast access to unrestricted updates and contact with friends, but my hopes are continually dashed when the wheel on my computer stays stuck in spin mode.

Except for the occasional Facebook download and the odd email sneaking through I am without contact.

Facebook lets me see a glimpse before shutting down and my internet contact is gone so quickly that I hardly have a chance to say anything in response. Gone is the ease with which I once clicked a LIKE button and only once yesterday was I able to sneak out a message after several hours of rebooting, disconnecting, and reposting my update on my Facebook profile.

If you’ve been waiting for a blog post … this one is likely coming to you by way of Alaska rather than Cornwall, England as I think I shall have to email it to my sister so she can post it to my blog for me.

It’s funny what you miss when you are locked away from access to what you once enjoyed. It feels like a solitary confinement of sorts where I can hear the guards talking to each other about what’s happening in the world, but I’m only able to catch a few words here and there and never enough to satisfy my desire for more information.

While my intention is meant to be funny with this whinging update, I am actually finding little to laugh about during my unplanned withdrawal process.

BT Internet seems to be doing little to rectify the problem and I imagine them sitting somewhere having another cup of tea, checking the Facebook status of their mates content in the knowledge that they are the main game in town and the only real choice for service.

I have to cut this short to see if I can get this out before the wheel begins to spin again, I think I see someone down below that I might be able to hit with this crumpled ball of words if I can toss it far enough to get their attention … looks like they’re turning around, that’s right pick it up, come on … you can do it, please oh please oh please, YES!

 

 

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Strangles Beach – Part Textile, Part Naturists

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The lovely and unusually warm October weather made me suggest another beach trip yesterday and after a quick bite of lunch we packed a few things and headed for a bit of sand and surf.

Strangles Beach

My only request when John asked where I’d like to go was to suggest somewhere we had not been before. While we had walked alone the path above Strangles Beach before on our way to Crackington Haven, this was our first time to actually visit the beach.

Strangles Beach - Clothing Optional Side At The Far Right

A walk to Strangles Beach is not for the weak of heart as some of the footpath can be slippery littered as it is with broken bits of slate. From a distance it looks a bit brown and rocky and I wasn’t sure I would like it as much as the last few beaches we’ve been on lately, but as we were making our way down, I found a different sort of beauty in the landscape.

It was a fairly steep and long walk down and this couple seemed content to watch the waves from a distance. Only later did I realize they were sitting in a direct line of sight to the nude section of the beach.

Part way down the slope John pointed up along the top of the cliff several hundred feet above us at some wild-looking goats. I wrote about them here and have some great close-ups of them with the previous post. The best I could do yesterday was the photo below from a distance.

Do have a look at my earlier post about them. I had forgotten how clear and close the photos were from that day.

As we were walking to the beach, John mentioned that he thought he remembered that a part of this beach had a spot were you could nude sunbathe if you wanted to feel a sea breeze all over. It turns out he was right. I went exploring while he was having a swim and discovered a unofficial clothing optional beach that you can just make out the photo above.

It’s behind the big rock and is larger than you see here. I didn’t shoot any images of the size of the beach because I didn’t want to seem as if I was shooting more than the landscape.

If you double-click on this image you can get a feel for how high the walls were around us. There are some tiny dots in the center of this photo that are people. You have to do a bit of wading to get to the nude beach and if you’re not careful you can get stuck there when the tide comes in.

There are loads of rocks on this beach making it a bit slow going if you take your shoes off too soon, but the softness of the sand that waits just past them can be seen around the rocks below.

I love the granite stripes in many of the rocks and I was tempted to pocket a few to bring home.

I caught this photo of John after his swim as he moved towards the beach to dry off and sun a bit.

We stayed until the sun began to change and packed up for the climb back up to the coast path and the car.

You can learn more about the nude beaches in Cornwall by clicking here and there’s an interesting video on the Guardian online news site about the naturists lifestyle. People are shown walking and talking in the nude so it might not be okay to view it at work during your coffee break.

While I am disinclined to take my own clothes off in public, I don’t mind other people doing it especially if I’m enjoying a more isolated stretch of beach where it’s more likely to occur. After a discreet look around it seemed as if most of those going bare were either young and fit or older and very comfortable in their skin. I may get bolder as I grow older.

The view as we were making our way out was lovely and I kept pausing to snap photos every few feet. I think John thought we would never make it to the top, but there was so much to see.

A last look back …

Naturist or Textile

I almost forgot … naturists like to refer to people who keep their clothes on as textiles and I’m curious about my readers … are you a naturist, a textile, or a little of both.

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Swimming In Late September Sunshine At Lundy Beach

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Mother nature is having a last bit of fun with us these days when it comes to summer weather and John and I have been outside soaking up as much possible to tide us over through the winter rain and grey days to come.

Flowers and plants that normally bloom in the spring and early summer are a bit confused and we’ve seen color that is usually fading or long gone by now popping back out. I’ve even seen buttercups along the way and you know how I feel about those happy spots of sunshine.

We’ve been so busy going and doing that I’ve neglected to do much writing and even email seems like a bit of effort so if you’re waiting to hear from me, please forgive my tardiness because we have another glorious day waiting to be explored.

We spent one afternoon at an almost empty Lundy beach. Only thirteen miles from our front door, we couldn’t resist a trip to get a bit of the soft sand between our toes.

It didn’t take long before John slipped out of his clothes and into a pair of swim trunks. I thought the water was a bit chilly for swimming, but I did a fair amount of wading and exploring while he was enjoying the water.

There were loads of mussels everywhere making us think of food long before it was time for dinner. I don’t eat mussels, but I have seen John work his way through more than a few bowls. It’s usually when we’re traveling so I always associate it with a sweet memory.

 I think I was saying, ” The beach, the water, I need to go in for a swim … “

This look is about pure joy. I was so happy to be having this experience with John. The day was stunning and we were on a huge stretch of beach with only a couple of other people who were mostly tucked away behind their bit of rock making it feel like a private beach.

I think the look on my face tells you all you need to know about why I didn’t go for a swim too. The water was just a bit chilly for my southern blood. I’m more used to the tepid bathtub temps of Florida and there was no way I was going in without a wetsuit.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t play in the surf a bit though and I caught a wave that drenched my backside a bit before going off to explore a little more of the rocky caves along the beach.

I was trying to show John how wet my shorts were, but they look dryer here than they actually were.

  Here’s a shot of John swimming in the sea. Brave man!

There were two dogs who came a bit later that were darling to play with … they loved the beach and were chasing balls and playing with me before the woman they came with went off to a more secluded area to sunbathe and took them with her.

Here’s a cave sort of place I found with walls that became light green the farther in you went.

You can see a bit of the green wall in this photo.

  John took this of me as I was wading back in for a second look.

The water was deeper in some places and I could have gone farther into the cave had I been willing to get wet.

 This one shows you more of the green walls which John thought were probably slate.

   Mussels!

After we dried off and John changed back into his clothes, we climbed up onto the coast path and finished our afternoon at Lundy with a short walk of about half a mile back to our car.

The reentry views are just as pretty as the beach ones and time spent along the coast path is always worth the trip.

October may be here, but it looks and feels like a spring morning so we’re off in a bit to be good stewards of this lovely day. It would be a shame to waste it on laundry and other chores so things that “need” doing will just have to wait.

Now if I can find my wetsuit …

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Sundays On St Michael’s Mount

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Last Sunday found us fighting the wind to cross the water to get to church. Patrice and Lisa were finishing a three-week, three country, tour and we were happy to have a chance to share our part of the world with them before they went home. When I knew they were arriving on a Saturday, I insisted we plan a trip to St Michael’s Mount for Sunday services. I been a few times on Sunday morning and I’m always aware of its age and how people have worshiped there for over 700 years.

We spent a few minutes watching as the windsurfers left the beach and we had to run to catch the boat that would carry us to the island.

Speaking of running … here comes Patrice with Lisa right behind her snapping photos.

The boat filled before we got there so we had to wait for the next. I was worried we would be late for the service because having climbed the steps before, I knew that it might be slow going for Patrice who had knee surgery a few months ago. I used Lisa’s camera to get a windblown shot on the boat. It only takes a few minutes to get across, but it was long enough for the sky to clear.

We still had a long way to go once we got off the boat.
I was a bit pushy, nicely so, but still pushy. I found out later that Patrice told Lisa that she and I had run a marathon together and she’d had to listen me being encouragingly pushy most of the way.

Almost there …

We made it with a few minutes to spare. Lisa snapped a quick photo before the service began.  

  It was Harvest Sunday and the chapel was decorated with things from the garden.

There was a special card with a prayer not in the book. I thought it was interesting that it was Prayer E as E is what Patrice calls me and I recently wrote about my struggles with prayer in this post.

I took this picture of Patrice while Lisa, who you see behind her was taking the photo below.  

I came out first and the wind attacked me making it seem as it I’d had a hair-raising experience in church. Even the Vicar turned to look from the doorway. 

You can see part of the church behind Lisa as she’s walking towards us. It’s the building over her left shoulder not the one to the right. The one on the right was the Lady Chapel before it was converted to a sitting room.   

Lisa snapped this photo of me with John. It was pretty chilly that day, but not as cold as we look.

You can see the tide going out in this photo and people beginning to walk across the causeway instead of talking the boat.

Here it’s fully revealed and Patrice and Lisa are right behind me. John went on ahead to get the car.
 There they are!

I think I was saying, ” Hurry, we’ve got a lot to see today!”

I thought this was a blot on my image until I enlarged it and saw it was a bird. It may be time to get reading glasses soon.

The last photograph below shows the wind blowing sand across us. I turned my back to snap this and curled around my camera to protect it from the sand. It was pretty to see it skipping along the shore looking almost like smoke.

I’ve got more from our travels coming up. We took loads of pictures and while I won’t share them all, I think you might be interested in a few more.

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Tearful Reunions Taking Place In Cornwall

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Patrice & Lisa Arrive By Train

We’ve been showing off Cornwall to friends Patrice and Lisa over the last few days and I wanted to share our reunion with you. I think the sweetness in this hello has to be seen.

Patrice was saying “E,” a nickname some of my friends like to call me, only when she says it, it sounds more like “Eeeeeeee!”

I think everyone should have this experience at least once in their life where someone shouts their name with delight and opens their arms for a big embrace. We do it with our children especially when they’re young and I wonder how much better we’d all feel if greetings in general were more joyful and enthusiastic.

Lisa took this picture of me giving Patrice a big happy hug and the one below as well!

Happy Tears To See Each Other

Patrice and I have known each other for ten years and found a compatibility in our communication right from the first when I showed up in her physical therapy office needing help with a painful hip injury.

We chatted our way through my physical therapy appointments always running out of time with more to say so I suggested we get together for dinner after completing my course of therapy and we’ve been friends ever since. It’s difficult for some of us to find close friends later in life especially the kind you can trust with your secrets and it’s comforting to me to know Patrice is that kind of friend.

We’ve seen each other through some extreme times of sweetness and sorrow watching and supporting each other through major life changes that seemed to happen all at once in our 40s. We’ve laughed and cried our way through romantic disasters, shifts in employment, and the death of both of her parents in the last ten years. It has not always been easy.

Our 50s have a different look about them as we’ve worked to create lives that are more of what we want and while we still struggle occasionally with our individual areas of stress and compromise, I think we’ve both learned the joy in holding tightly to moments with people we love and value.

Patrice is here with her partner Lisa for a few days and John and I are having a blast showing them all the places we love. Their clear delight in everything (except apple cider) makes each day an exciting race to see more and I’m taking pictures of them like a mad paparazzi documenting moments we’ll want to remember.

The pictures above were taken at the train station Saturday evening and capture our happy reunion. We were both teary even though we had said goodbye in Atlanta only last month. I feel sure my tears were more about welcoming a dear friend to my life here in Cornwall than about anything else and it thrills me to see her enthusiasm and appreciation for the places I’ve come love and think of as home.

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Hermitage Castle – Bordering On Trouble

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I wanted to show you more pictures of the Scottish castle John and I saw last Saturday and I even found some excellent inside shots of Hermitage Castle on Flickr since I was too chicken to go in for a look. If you read my post yesterday, you’ll remember I got an uneasy feeling so I only photographed the exterior.

After doing a bit of research, I found that Hermitage Castle had a bloody history and some famous associations. Mary, Queen of Scots made a daring visit to Hermitage to see the man who would become her third husband while she was still married to her second one. This led to a good bit of gossip even though the two hours she spent with the Earl of Bothwall were well chaperoned.

The castle’s border location between England and Scotland made it a target for the Border Reivers and it became known as ‘The guardhouse of the bloodiest valley in Britain.’

I took the quote below from the Historic Scotland website and it gives a brief overview as to why Hermitage Castle gives off such scary energy.

‘Hermitage, in deepest Liddesdale, is a lonely spot. The feeling of foreboding is heightened by the presence of the awesome castle ruin. It has inspired colourful local legends – of the wicked Lord Soules and of a giant Englishman with impregnable armour who drowned in the nearby Hermitage Water. In truth, though, Hermitage has no need of myths. It has a history of torture, treason – and romantic trysts – sufficient for a host of castles.’

  The castle sits along a river that you can see in the shot above.

A woman with a dog is going into the entrance of the castle. It’s not as large a doorway as I would have expected especially with castle walls high enough to have held five or more floors. (Double click on any to enlarge)

The ruins of a chapel nearby.

These last two photos have nothing to do with the castle, but I thought you might find them interesting. I took them in Carlisle Cathedral. I was trying to shoot the window you see in the distance and when I downloaded my images, I was surprised to see the white shapes against the pillar.

I didn’t see them when I was taking the photographs. Things looked dark through the camera and I was worried these two shots would be worthless since I was shooting without a flash and really needed more light.

I don’t think it’s a reflection as there was no flash or window light and I’m stumped. Any ideas?

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Birthday Travels & Scary Castles

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Double Click On The Image To Step Into The English Countryside

John and I went north last week to attend a reunion with some people he used to work with in Carlisle. Since my birthday fell during that time, we added a few days to make the long drive more fun. I’ve got about 700 photographs from the area where Beatrix Potter used to write about her friends on the farm, and I’d love to show you a few, but you’ll have wait until tomorrow when I’ve had time to sort some out for you.

We skipped over the border of England into Scotland on the 10th for my birthday and came across an 800 year-old castle that too scary to me to even go into. John wouldn’t have minded, but I had an odd feeling and was content to snap my photos from a distance. I’ll tell you what I discovered later when I researched the castle online. Here’s a photo or two so you can see what I mean about spooky.

 

I’m usually quite fearless when it comes to poking around ancient monuments, but some places feel less inviting than others. Although John never seems to feel this way, I’d be willing to bet that some of my readers know what I’m talking about.

 

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A Perfect Day For Riding

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Dora Takes A Break As Elizabeth Takes Her Picture

While I played with the color on the image of Dora, we had such a gorgeous day yesterday that my photos really didn’t need any tweaking. John and I went out to explore a new area we’d not been through and I couldn’t pass the stile without posing Dora next to it for a few quick photos.

There were a lot more hills it seemed on this ride and I caught this one of John coming up one very long, long, forever without end seeming, hill.

This was just one view that waited near the top. Notice I said, near the top.

I shot this from my bike on the way home. John and I’ve walked right through the grounds before, as a public footpath goes through it.

The horses saw me coming, but were not bothered enough to move. I was shooting in motion while riding Dora. Thank goodness the car below gave me wide berth. The driver probably was thinking …” Tourists! ”

The horses did feel obliged to move over for the car and driver.

This little beauty was very friendly and not scared at all.

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The Dog Days Of Summer Come To Cornwall

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After all the rain and grey days last week, Monday was beautiful. It was a Bank Holiday here and John reminded me last night that it’s the last one we’ll see before Christmas.

It’s no wonder then that it all went to the dogs yesterday … in our village at least. It wasn’t actually all about dogs, but the dog show was a huge draw and much of the afternoon was spent judging and being judged.

 

I was asked along with John and several other people to photograph the event for our Parish magazine. I had a hard time remembering to photograph more than what interests me, but when I reviewed my 222 photos, (can you say overkill) I found I had managed to capture enough to present a good overview of the day even though my photos were a bit dog heavy.

Speaking of dog heavy, I’m not sure I’d like to feed this big boy. I sat next to him earlier and he was a very well-behaved, but he wanted to cuddle when he saw a smaller dog crawl into my lap.

There were loads of different breeds.

This little dog was in an event for older dogs who were referred to as veterans which meant dogs over ten years old.

I had a chance to play with these puppies when I caught up with them later outside the pub.

This is one of our neighbors. She runs marathons with her Dalmatians and unless something changed over the summer, only three of these dogs belong to her.

My friend Patrice once offered shelter to a friend of hers who came with what she referred to as a damnation versus a Dalmatian because it was so uncontrollable and made her miserable. She was happy to see the back of it as they say here when the dog and her owner found a new place to live. Let me clear about the Dalmatians above, they are always very sweet and well-behaved and completely different from the experience Patrice had with the big D.

There’s so much going in this shot and you might think it too busy, but I love seeing all the different actions and knowing that many of these people live in my community. You may remember the little girl in the sunglasses from this post. She’s always a cutie!

This little girl was loving her puppy.

Waiting patiently for the judge’s decision.

There was a good variety of food with burgers and sausages being sold here. I didn’t have one, but I did see a happy dog scarfing down a hamburger that had been dropped accidentally .

There were other nibbles too like the scones and jam you see here.

If you got tired of dog watching there were different games you could try like the girl above.

Lots of boys seemed keen to do this one and had what looked like a bit of competition going with their scores.

Splat the Rat seemed like the most fun to me, but I tend to like games that involving whacking something. It’s a good stress reliever.

 

My friend Tina was making dreams come true yesterday and she told me later that this was the first time this little boy had ever had his face painted.

You could pick up bargains too as people set up tables and sold off a variety of things.

Here’s a shot of some more of my neighbors. Andy looks very stern in the background, but it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him without a smile. I love the shot of Gary with the teddy bear. I actually followed him for a few yards trying to catch just the right shot of the bear next to one of his colorful tattoos. This was my favorite.

There were quite a few vintage cars on the village green including an American made Chrysler Imperial (blue car) that you see in this shot. It’s so wide that I’m not sure how it makes it through most of the lanes around the village. The black Austin Seven (about 1935) was my favorite.

Here are a few more that caught my eye. Even though I loved the Austin Seven, if I were going to own one to drive it would be this silver one. I’d have to keep my scarves short and inside the car though so as not to end up like Isadora Duncan.

You could get out of the sun if you wished in the Village Institute ( it was a one room school originally) and pick up some jam or artwork to take home with you too.

Many people had a Kelly’s Cornish ice cream while others finished the day at the pub. I passed by this mobile dairy treat on my way to find John who was sitting with friends in front of the pub enjoying a pint in the afternoon sun.

The best part of my day happened earlier with this young puppy. He was totally irresistible and so cuddly and calm that I had trouble giving him back. I expect I’ll see Ziggy again since his owner is local.

He’s such a beauty and at the risk of sounding like Paris Hilton, look how his eyes match the color of my shirt. (I know dogs are not accessories)

I took this myself and he was a little distracted. I had trouble getting us both in the shot and in focus so I gave Ziggy first priority.

The photo below is my favorite as he gave me a little kiss while I was trying to stay steady and snap the shot. I love the light in this one. It looks like the last days of summer.

Hazy Dog Days & Puppy Love - Ziggy Kissing Elizabeth

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Go Directly To Jail

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This morning I was stuck. WordPress was not working properly for me and even though I kept deleting and starting over, my photographs would not go up in the order I wished. After trying a few times, I got irritated and then I thought, Right, I’ll just put them up in reverse if they won’t load the normal way!

What you see below is what I wanted in the beginning. It did require thinking about it differently and going at it from another direction which is interesting if you consider the images and subject for this post.

Bodmin Jail, also known as Bodmin Prison, probably didn’t allow much deviation from their standard way of doing things. Rules were necessary to maintain order and it was funny that today’s post would not behave properly.

Bodmin Jail is a collection of old buildings that are mostly falling apart. A few have been restored and you can have a meal in the restaurant or stay overnight as part of a ghostly evening, but most of the buildings are not in use. Unlike historical ruins in America, walking and exploring are permitted and John and I stepped through an old main door and into a former cell without any problem.

Standing in a cell built for one, I wondered what prisoners thought when they stared out through the windows. I found it scary and confining as you might expect a prison would be especially one with such history. Bodmin prison was the first British prison to have individual cells and I wonder if that was better or worse than sharing with another person. They were keen on punishing with silence and isolation and I was surprised to see they had windows. I wondered if prison officials thought that watching others walking free might increase the pain of incarceration.

You can get an idea of the size of the space in the cell by the photo above. John had just stepped out and I was shooting from very near the window. I looked online trying to discover what the long narrow trough was used for. John suggested it might be for waste disposal since there was no indoor plumbing.

As Bodmin Prison was built in 1779 I’m not surprised by the lack of facilities, but it is odd that I could not find anything to tell me why the trough was there. There’s a good bit of info on this site, but be prepared to have to decipher a bit as John and I both agree that it could use some editing.

This same shot appears on the website I mentioned above and I took it in one of the first cells you see once you are inside the main hall. I can only assume that the photographer was as nervous as I was about being in a place where people were once publicly hanged for their crimes and like me, did not feel like photographing the other cells. I did poke my nose in a few others, but I was moving fairly quickly.

This was just one building that housed prisoners. I can’t imagine the despair at being sentenced to serve time here especially when you read about how minor some of the crimes were.

There was no one about guarding the area and one could easily climb around if feeling brave. John never seems to need as long to absorb the details when we see new places and I’m not usually bothered about lingering behind to snap a few more photos before hurrying to catch up with him, but on this trip when I heard him say he’d had enough and was going on, I decided I’d seen enough too and left with him.