www.PoshPedlar.com

May 16, 2014 · 12:54 pm

Cornwall – Week 1 – Minority Status – One Lick is Never Enough

So following on from a very successful trip to North Wales, where – hold the front page – IT DID NOT RAIN ONCE! We decided to chance our arm with another staycation and head for Cornwall.

Which is a VERY VERY VERY long way away. 362 miles, and 6 hours 15 minutes to be precise.

Kernow, (Cornish for Cornwall my lovers) is a Celtic Nation.

The Corns, Kernovians, Cornishers (?) were proudly celebrating, having just been awarded minority status.

This means the UK has promised to protect the rights of minority groups to “enjoy their own culture, to use their own language, to establish their own schools… and practise their own religion”.

I thought I’d share some of this culture, which we certainly enjoyed, oh yes my handsome:

Breakfast, started off healthy, sadly this didn’t last long:

As the rather delicious smoothies were washed down with:

Followed by pudding, from this Michelin Starred Ice Cream Van:

‘One lick is never enough’ – states the flourish on the van door, and it wasn’t, leaving a disappointed dog:

So, after a quick walk/stroll/amble along the South West Coast Path spotting ship wrecks at Coverack:

It was time for refreshments – Cornish Afternoon Tea – jam goes on first, then cream in Cornwall:

Well, that filled a hole, but having arrived back in Falmouth, we decided Fish and Chips might be in order for supper. However, first we bought beautiful bread from this bang – on bakery:

Before joining the queue here at the Best Chippy I’ve been to since the last one I went to:

Now, I know in Glasgow, Deep Fried Mars Bars are de riguer, but here in Kernow, the more discerning diner goes for the Deep Fried Creme Egg.

And on that note, I’m signing off and heading for my hand bag where there should still be some Indigestion Tablets lurking.

Kernow + Culture = One Lick is Never Enough!

Week 2 – Minority Status – to follow.

1 Comment

Filed under Artisan, Community, Cornwall, Culture, Dogwalking, English Countryside, food, Musings, National Trust, sea, travel, Writing

Tagged as Bank Holiday, Cornish Pasties, Cornwall Minority Status, Coverack, cream tea, Falmouth, Kernow, seaside, South West Path, St Ives

Image

Carlton Ware Money Box Snail for Sale

Vernon is a snail with excellent manners.

He was the perfect subject to photograph.

Vernon’s pretty nifty with a top speed of 50 yards per hour.

Won’t get far with your cash, although he is quite strong, able to lift 10 times his own body weight.

Vernon was born in 1970, in Stoke on Trent. He’s pretty retro.

In super condition for his age, I thought he might make a rather lovely Christening present.

Preferable to silver plated egg cups and Winnie the Pooh plates?

Discerning purchasers can find Vernon by clicking on his photo. Be quick, he won’t hang around long!

Pearls are Perfect Presents

Here we have a gorgeous pair of signed Napier faux pearl earrings.

They are lush.
With a luxury luminous lustre.

Pearls are the oldest known gems.
They can be traced back to 520BC; a fragment of jewellery was found in the tomb of a Persian Princess.

Known as the Susa necklace, it is now on display in the Louvre:

To the Ancient Persians, pearls symbolised the moon and its magical powers, alluding to purity and perfection.

In December 2011 La Peregrina famously sold for a record price of £7 million at Christies, New York. Once owned by Queen Mary I of England, the pearl was bought in 1969 by Richard Burton, as a Valentine’s Day gift for his wife Elizabeth Taylor.

Here she recounts the story of losing the pearl during a stay at Caesar’s Palace, Nevada:

“At one point I reached down to touch La Peregrina and it wasn’t there! I glanced over at Richard and thank God he wasn’t looking at me, and I went into the bedroom and threw myself on the bed, buried my head into the pillow and screamed. Very slowly and very carefully, I retraced all my steps in the bedroom. I took my slippers off, took my socks off, and got down on my hands and knees, looking everywhere for the pearl. Nothing. I thought, It’s got to be in the living room in front of Richard. What am I going to do. He’ll kill me! Because he loved the piece.

After few minutes of mental anguish, Taylor looked at their puppies. One of them was apparently chewing on a bone, but nobody gave bones to the puppies. She continues:

I just casually opened the puppy’s mouth and inside his mouth was the most perfect pearl in the world. It was—thank God—not scratched.”

That story makes me hyperventilate just thinking about it.

Have you ever done that?

LOST A PIECE OF PRECIOUS JEWELLERY?

I have, frequently.

Returned to the sock drawer, or sugar bowl, or mattress cover, and felt that hot tide flow over me with the horrid, dreadful realisation/paralysis that what was a certainty, what I was so sure about, is no longer.

And then the panic, the anxiety, the STRESS!

Is it behind the boiler? In the freezer? At the bottom of the cotton wool ball bag?

Followed by the relief. It was in my dressing gown pocket. Of course it was. Der.

These pearl earrings won’t cost you millions, and I doubt they’ll find their way into the Louvre, but they are very beautiful, and would make a fabulous gift.

Put them in a safe place. One you can remember!

Click on the photo, and they can be yours!

Where in the World?

So PoshPedlar has been away again, hence the acres of silence through the ether.

But where?

It was bliss.

Working Windmill in Windy Wales (Pt II) All Grist to the Mill

George Orwell wasn’t a fan.
Of dying metaphors, that is, I’m not sure whether he was a fan of windmills or not.

What’s not to like?

Windmills are wonderful. Literally.

It is an awesome thing to watch wind captured, to witness invisible swirls and draughts caught by, embraced by huge lumbering sails.
That great gigantic beehive coaxed into action by gusts of breeze and bluster.
Not just the wheat or barley adding grist, but the wind itself.
Without wind – grist grinds to a halt.

Which is what Orwell would have preferred:

‘Dying metaphors … a huge dump of worn-out metaphors which have lost all evocative power and are merely used because they save people the trouble of inventing phrases for themselves. Examples are: Ring the changes on, take up the cudgels for, toe the line, ride roughshod over, stand shoulder to shoulder with, play into the hands of, no axe to grind, grist to the mill…’

What dying metaphor would you add to his list?
Or have you invented your very own cliche?

My donation is not a metaphor, nor a cliche.
But it is the most overused/misused word in the history of words. And that is:

Absolutely.

Yes, absolutely. You’re absolutely right.
Absolutely no way. Absolutely perfect. Absolutely ridiculous.

Anyway. I absolutely must go. I’ve got grist to grind.

2 Comments

April 30, 2014 · 7:18 am

Image

The Sea (and Pedro the SeaDog)

The sea is a hungry dog,
Giant and grey.
He rolls on the beach all day.
With his clashing teeth and shaggy jaws
Hour upon hour he gnaws
The rumbling, tumbling stones,
And ‘Bones, bones, bones, bones! ‘
The giant sea-dog moans,
Licking his greasy paws.

And when the night wind roars
And the moon rocks in the stormy cloud,
He bounds to his feet and snuffs and sniffs,
Shaking his wet sides over the cliffs,
And howls and hollos long and loud.

But on quiet days in May or June,
When even the grasses on the dune
Play no more their reedy tune,
With his head between his paws
He lies on the sandy shores,
So quiet, so quiet, he scarcely snores.

James Reeves

1 Comment

April 29, 2014 · 8:46 am

Image

Another Shawl. You wait for hours, and then two come along at once…

This stunning vintage cape is sprinkled with sequins and sparkles.

Seductive starfish scattered at random.

Starfish have no blood, and no brains, did you know that?

It’s very pretty, and perfect for weddings, or christenings, or festivals, or garden parties at the palace.

Poshpedlar loves parties at the palace.

Click on the cape and it can be yours!

3 Comments

April 28, 2014 · 7:33 am

Image

Kashmir Shawl sewn with Chinar Leaves

Kashmir Shawl sewn Chinar Leafs

This amazing Kashmir Shawl is huge.

It is pure wool. And it is beautifully embroidered.

With Chinar Leaves.

The fire of the Chinar is reknowned in Kashmir.

Myths and legends abound in its branches, weave through its roots, whisper and waft to the tips of its twigs.

Platanus Orientalis. Flame orange, scarlet, crimson.

Read this fascinating piece in The Free Press Kashmir here.

This is a very important tree. It symbolises so much for the Kashmiri nation.

And if you want to look fabulous, and feel warm, and wear wisdom.

Then Treat Yourself here.

Windy Wales Weekend with Windmills

Forgive me, I haven’t been in touch for a while.

I’ve been abroad, over the border, across the water.

To Wales. For the Weekend.

Wow. Not a Washout. We enjoyed sunshine. Warm, dry, crinkly-eyed sunshine.

It’s worth writing about, because it’s the first time I’ve been to Welsh Wales for many years, having sworn never again – after two or three soggy, sodden, torrential, miserable visits in a row – would we venture into the land of Barabrith, Laverbread and Leeks.

We’ve all been there, flicking through the glossy Travel Section, pausing over some quaint Fisherman’s Cottage, or Shepherd’s Retreat. Or Drover’s Den.

What fun! Log burners, and Scrabble, and walks along the beach…

The reality is the log burner spews out the cheap wet hunks of whatever, bought from the petrol station, and Scrabble ends in tears, too much cheating, too few vwls, and walks along the beach are tricky in Force 9 hail storms.

NO INTERNET. NO FOOTY ON SKY.

NO GARLIC/ROCKET or Organic Ice Cream. No Villa Maria.

Back to basics. But who wants basics? On holiday? Who wants to be wet, and cold and somewhere else?

So this weekend was a gamble. An outside chance. And it galloped home. I’m even thinking about booking again. But the possibility of four consecutive days of sunshine is remote.

Whoaaaa.

For the time being, I’ll look at my photos and smile – warmly – inwardly, and share two or three.

So no bijouterie or beautiful bits and bobs today.

PoshPedlar’s been in Wales.

4 Comments

Filed under Artisan, Community, Culture, English Countryside, Musings

Tagged as Aberffraw, Anglesey, beach, Scrabble, sunshine, Villa Maria, Wales, windmills

Image

Tea for Two and Two for Tea

Here we have a really charming Tea Cosy.

It’s beautifully hand embroidered in blue and white, with a rich navy velvet to the reverse.

To keep your little tea pot warm. Whilst your brew steeps.

How do you make your perfect cup of tea?

Warm the pot.
Pour hot water (not boiling, never boiling water), over the leaves.
Steep for 2 minutes if it’s red tea, up to 7 minutes if it’s green tea.
If you have milk:
Milk? How very dare you.
The milk goes in after and definitely not before.

And of course, if it’s loose leaf tea, which I certainly hope it is, because tea bags are just so infra dig, then once your cup is empty it’s time to read your leaves.
Tea leaf astrology.
Swirl the cup around, let the leaves settle, squint quite hard at the pattern remaining, and then using all your powers of imagination, turn the pattern into a shape you recognise.

Don’t pretend you haven’t done the same with clouds:

Dragons, Diamonds, Druids, Donkeys, Dentures, Dolphins, Doris Day.

All of life is there. In the bottom of your cup. Which must be Bone China – it goes without saying.