Green fields. Buzzing insects. Hardly a hint of civillisation. Cornwall may have its disadvantages, but it’s a gorgeous contrast from London, and the time I’m spending here is doing me the world of good. Since the last entry, we voyaged down to my sister’s place in Devon, had a beautiful trip up onto Dartmoor (plenty of sun, for once, which actually has me worried- the whole place was looking kind of dusty and yellow, and this is at the beginning of summer before the major sun has kicked in), had a trip on Sunday to meet up with my Mum that turned dramatic for a wide variety of complex (and not easy to describe) experiences, ate pizza, watched a whole lotta movies (Revenge of the Sith for the second time- it’s the best of the prequels, but deary me there’s still some dodgy dialogue there. Take the eye candy away, and that film would be in serious trouble), ate some gorgeous cheesecake, and then headed down to Cornwall on Monday evening. Since then, life has been slower and quite lovely- Dad’s place is a distance away from anywhere inparticular and has a truly wonderful garden that’s full of exciting nooks and crannies.
Yesterday we spent lolling around and being lazy, but today we went for a walk through Tehidy Woods, and down into Portreath, the village where I grew up. We went along a route that I haven’t been along for a very long time, and there were quite a few eerie moments when my memories were almost being “overlaid” onto what I was seeing. Strange, deja-vu-but-not-deja-vu moments, but it was great getting the chance to do that with George, who was very game for the walk despite not feeling fantastic when she first woke up. We eventually descended all the way into Portreath itself, ended up walking past the house where I grew up (again, a weird experience), and were finally picked up by Dad. All on a nice, warm day, and a walk with plenty of shady spots. There was enough variety and enough moments where there wasn’t anyone else around to make it very, very satisfying. I can see us wanting to get as far away from civillisation as we can as we get older.
Week Eight of Who- and because of my sister’s slightly bizarre decision to (a) buy a highly expensive Hi-Def compatible television and (b) not actually plug the video recorder into it (instead, there’s a slightly confusing collection of audio visual equipment upstairs, wired into an arial-less telly), this was the first Who episode since 1983 that I didn’t get to record. And, of course, it turned out to be one of the best of the season so far- a minimum of cheery one-liners, and a maximum of genuinely atmospheric spookiness. All a huge rip-off of Event Horizon, but none the worse for it.
Hopefully, we should be able to meet up with my friend Tris before we head back- something which doesn’t happen often enough. Other than that, the plan is to relax, stay calm, and take stock of the situation with the novel. It’s possible that I’ve actually cracked one area of the characterisation, although it’s possible that I might think differently once I actually come to write down what’s in my head. Only time will tell…