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| Colour Consultant declining to give an interview but offering unprintable advice! |
At the boarding gate...picked up a Macallen Select Oak Highland single Malt for 68.00 US. Hope the selection is ok! See u soon!
Hi Duty Free Daughter!
Glad you are finally en route! Great selection! Macallan Scotch is not as smoky as others so this is a very good choice, especially for a relatively new malt tippler, like yourself, I assume. beginning Scotch drinker. At 80 proof/40%, (Nana would much prefer the 10 Year Old Cask Strength, 58.1% on the Richter Scale, for her back medication!), this expression is filled with vanilla and butterscotch, backed by spice on the decadently pleasurable finish! Just right for a snort after a long flight or even a pre-breakfast, lunch or dinner dram, depending on where your circadian rhythms finds themselves.
Patrick James Dunn Bravo Gale! Onward! Fight! Cheers, Patrizzio!
Speaking of meals, we were planning to have Cornish Pasties for dinner after you arrive but have been wondering if that is a good idea, depending on when you actually reach Truro. I assume you may well not be here until at least 9:00pm, at the very earliest, given fact that I believe you land at Heathrow around 2:00pm. Depending on how quickly you clear Immigration/Customs and then catch bus to Reading and how that trip meshes with train departures, you could be here just in time to turn around and go back to LA!
Realistically, knowing how things might happen/or not, you could be here any time between 9:00pm and 11:00pm. Of course we will have a better idea once you are able to phone from Reading. We ate dinner at 11:00pm last night so this evening's timing isn't a big deal for us, one way or another, but more of a concern for you and how you will be feeling/faring, taking into account time change, jet-lag and any meals you will have had en route. In an emergency you can always crack the seal on the Macallan's!
Anyway, you'll be fine, I'm sure, and can chalk up any delays, missed connections or other frustrations as part of your adventure in England! Looks like a pretty nice day here so I'm planning a ride to Carnon Downs if I can escape before Nana hands me a list of household chores. I have already told her that I don't need to vacuum with you almost here and ready to take over such duties! Buona Fortuna, Love and Cheers, Dad!
Pic: Rattler Cornish Cider, Nana's favourite pub tipple, although, of late, she has taken to pouring it over her gluten-free Wetabix!
Tell me who's cuter! Me or Spud?
Chloe Alexis Dunn Cause I'm definitely skinnier now.- Patrick James Dunn Wonderful face but where'd you get those camel legs, Baby Cakes!
- Chloe Alexis Dunn Legs are thanks to her East Side diet!!about an hour ago via mobile · Like
- Chloe Alexis Dunn Running after trains......in her dreams!!
Krissy Seymour Aw Maggie moo! We have to feel bad for the aged so I guess we should give it to her ;)))) though spuddy is a cutie, just a bit of a wuss poor boy!- Patrick James Dunn Krissy, (selfish, cruel absentee owner that you are), should know that he can give Maggster a run for her money with the incessant stream of complaints he inundates his feline care-givers with, every morning, every evening, every time he has a chance to flood one with guilt! I've taken to using the earplugs I brought along for flights, to and from London, to make me deaf to his piteous meows!!!
Hi Chloë and Camel Cat!
Before I forget, thanks for taking care of The Annexe! Much appreciated! Here are my Visa card details.Had to creep into our bedroom to retrieve my money and thought that I'd have to be careful not to disturb a gently snoring Nana! However, she was already awake and refused to pose, as you can see!
You can charge $150 to Aunt Leah's Trivia Fundraiser or to whatever else you need to direct funds towards. With respect to your on-line shopping just be sure to obtain tax receipts for all the single malt!
- Chloe Alexis Dunn Looks like spudster is glaring at my Maggie Moo!!
- Patrick James Dunn No, in fact this is one of the portfolio shots he has commissioned me to take. He's getting ready to pitch a script to Ayn as he mentioned he'd like a career with Hallmark, in part to take him closer to Krissy and Mark!
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/359457077#.Ug0znHa9DTw.email
The first few kiolmetres of this section of the trail is a hard-packed gravel so I was happy to have my Armadillos, (extra tough tires I'd had put on bike when I purchased it in York), as going was a bit off-roadish, especially with all the puddles we had to negotiate. In spite of rain, it was still a delight to ride alongside Camel River, a lovely, quiet stream at this point, with many pools and mossy banks. Passed numerous former branch line stations, just the concrete platforms left as reminders of the time steam engines chuffed along this rail bed, between deep, high, high-walled cuts in the hillside and through endless leafy tree tunnels.
Track surface improves considerably closer to Wadebridge and one actually cycles through the streets of the village to rejoin the bike path on the outskirts, towards Padstow. As well, it is much more open on this stretch, as the river nears the ocean, offering gorgeous views of the surrounding, gently rolling hills, a patchwork quilt of pastures, shimmering all the way from Apple Green to traditional Forest Green, and fields of grain, warm rectangles, from Tan to Khaki. (Thanks again to Colour Queen Cora Lee, Chromatic Consultant Extraordinaire!), themselves dotted with stone farm cottages and out-buildings, perhaps a church spire or chapel clock tower.
Closer to Padstow the river divides into a number of channels and since the tide was out we could see numerous sandbanks, some festooned with sailboats, stranded, lolling sideways. Crossing a fairly long, narrow, trestle bridge we had a splendid view of Rock, (Cornish: Pennmeyn), the coastal village opposite, on the northeast bank of the estuary, spying the tiny passenger ferry that operate between the two communities. I also noted the sand dunes to the west of the village and a posted sign informed us that they "are designated a Site of Special Scientific Interest for their flora and geology.
These include various vegetation found in these embryo dunes as well as various types of slate." Thus elucidated, we proceeded to lock our bikes together in one of the numerous "holding" areas especially set aside for bicycles.
The Camel Trail is a very popular riding path, particularly with families and novice cyclists simply because it is so flat. I couldn't understand why we didn't ride right to the pub where we had arranged to meet The Sisterhood until we actually walked towards the harbour. Place was thick with holiday crowds, not unpleasantly so but it became quickly apparent that riding in such a melee would be downright impossible if not dangerous to both riders and pedestrians. Furthermore, there would be little if any place to lock one's bike on the narrow, congested streets. Parking is at a premium everywhere in England and certainly more so in tourist destinations, (Imagine Granville Island, as an apt example, Dear Reader!), so town authorities very wisely designated these bike lots to prevent utter chaos. Stefano remarked that he supposed I now understood why they tended not to visit such places during the height of holiday season.
Although I couldn't have agreed more, in terms of having to dodge phalanxes of baby-jogger-pod strollers, unruly, leashed dogs and ill-behaved children wielding ice-cream cones, made with Cornish Cream, in danger of being dropped onto one's cycling shoes, the harbour, with its working fishing boats, numerous large pleasure craft and smaller sailboats, overlooked by the grand Metrople Hotel, is more than a pleasant place. Patiently waiting for us, we found our Goils sitting on a large bollard, people watching, just opposite The Old Custom House, and once we'd bussed and fussed, we made our way to the dining lounge off the bar for a spot of lunch. A pint of Trelawny, a Cornish Bitter, went down rather well with my scrumptious Fish & Chips!
You know most of the rest from last night's message so will sign off for now. Love Dad, Molly Maid and Scullion rolled into one!
Pics: Start of Camel Trail; Rock; pub in Padstow; juiceheads; Camel Valley Vineyards; mud caked bike in parking lot a CV. Stefano quietly mentioned to your Mom that she needed to talk to me about cleaning off my spattered legs before I got back in his spotless car! Colour Consultant refusing an interview!
Hi Titanium Man!
Congratulations on new job, I gather, with ICBC! Cheaper car insurance for NRBCers?
Have really been enjoying cycling here in England. This is the link to yesterday's ride so you can see where we were and where Camel Valley Vineyard is located, the little squiggle with the red balloon at the end, not all that far from where we started ride. Not at all typical of most rides here in Cornwall as The Camel Trail is on a former rail line. The first few kiolmetres of the section we rode is a hard-packed gravel so I was happy to have my Armadillos, extra tough tires I'd had put on bike when I purchased my Montague foldable Navigator, in York. Trust all goes well with work and play. Cheers, Patrizzio!
Dear Telstra!
Please send actual bottles to Cornwall, Sydney House, Blackwater, as local pub has run out of ale and cider! Cheers, Patrizzio!
Today's ride:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/359812970#.Ug5JMBBgaeY.email
Dear SS, (How appropriate as your behaviour is rather fascistic!) Domestique!
Unfortunately I have never heard of the malt you mention. It must be produced exclusively for the Canadian market so I'm afraid I'll not be able to buy even a drop for you but perhaps I'll stumble across a mini-bar sized bottle of Johnny Walker Red, porch-climber/de-greaser, that you can carry on a piece of string, (Marcus Aurelius/Lorenzo Kazbah style), attached to your helmet mirror! (Can hardly wait to hear what The Sisterhood will have to say about this!)
For my part I'm awaiting delivery of one litre's worth of Macallan Select Oak, Duty Free from LA, Ayn will be bringing along. Cora Lee would have preferred the 10 Year Old Cask Strength, 58.1% on the Richter Scale, for her back medication, (She thinks she put her back out, sitting with poor posture, on a low couch in the sitting area off the front entrance, while using her iPad, a few days after Gayle and Derek left. She sat there, initially, since it was one of places with an electrical outlet within easy reach. She has since moved to a rather nice, fold-down writing desk in the formal dining room. Gayle suggested I might wish to us it but surface is a bit too small for me, inasmuch as I like to spread out brochures, maps, etc., items I often refer to when writing The Dreaded Diaries!), but this particular expression is filled with vanilla and butterscotch, backed by spice on the decadently pleasurable finish, just right for a relatively new malt tippler, like Ayn, who will probably need a snort after her long flight, a pre-breakfast, lunch or dinner dram, depending on where her circadian rhythms finds themselves. She is scheduled to arrive in Truro at about 8:57pm, (bus from Heathrow to Reading and then train to Cornwall), this evening so after I finish this missive, we'll head there, stopping at Sainsbury's beforehand for a few groceries and hootch!
[Continuation of Camel Trail ride]
After lunch, The Sisterhood wandered the streets of the tiny harbour town and returned to pick up the Cornish Pasties Cora Lee had ordered earlier. She was able to find gluten-free ones for herself but they were not yet ready when they first happened across the shop. Plan to have them for dinner tonight with Ayn. Stefano and I returned to our chained steeds and made our way back towards Bodmin. Camel Trail wasn't nearly as busy by this time so we sailed along at speeds that flat terrain invited but which we couldn't attain on way down, having to dodge erratic tandem riders, young meandering tots, oblivious to everything and one family, nursing a wailing child who had obviously scraped an elbow or a knee, who literally laid their bikes right across the path! This created a jam of the sort one hears about, daily, hourly, on the Motorways of the country, (Today's traffic report on BBC 2 targeted one that had cars "queuing" for ten miles!!!), and most other cyclists, approaching Los Stupidos, were forced to thread their way around the selfish dopes. Not me, however! Disgusted and annoyed I barreled ahead, riding over the ankle of the wailing child, giving him something to really cry about, kicked the large posterior of the father, doing nothing about the situation but wringing his hands, squirted some of the sulfuric acid I keep in a special pouch in my Camel Pack, onto the cigarette hanging from the lower lip of the bottle-blonde mother, yelling "Have a Good Day", over my shoulder as I disappeared around the next bend!
Stefano took a wrong turn when we were in Wadebridge so until he reoriented himself I took advantage of the Burning Ground to snap a few pictures from the marvellous bridge we happened to be on. Plaque at one end informed us that it was first built in the 15th century and parts of the original structure still form a goodly part of the bridge as it stands today. On towards Bodmin, peeling off before we reached the village itself as there is a lane which runs from the Camel Trail right to the winery door. Climb up to where we met our lovelies is quite a good one and all th emore so since we had been quite used to cruising along, on the flat, with little effort.
We stashed our helmets behind the tasting counter, glugged a glass of water and joined the tour which had only just begun. Mainly sparkling wines but the owner, Bob Lindo, was a most congenial, personable guide. In spite of the fact that we have been on many wine tours, over the years, this one was really extremely interesting. Basically a crash course in wine making, from picking through to bottling, but Bob conducted it with such self-deprecating humour and obvious knowledge that it was fascinating to listen to him. He started with sheep on the lovely property and just decided to plant a few vines, almost for the heck of it. Over the years, with plenty of hard work and very little money, he, and his wife, Annie, have turned the place into an award winning winery.
About fifty people on the tour but in spite of this is it wasn't at all unpleasant as we moved from vineyard to riddling room, [In short, the bottles are placed, at a 45º angle, on special racks, given a slight shake and turn, once a day, to push sediments toward the neck of the bottle, (later removed in a process called "disgorging"), over the course of from 10 to 14 days. Manual riddling is still done but has otherwise been largely abandoned because of the high labour costs. Mechanized riddling equipment is more commonly used today and such is the case at CVV.), to the bottling line, a process with which Chloë is quite familiar, when helping out with Special Releases at GIB!
Very pleasant tasting, three different sparkling wines, one still white, out on the patio overlooking the gorgeous Camel Valley. I sat across from the others, at a table with a young couple from Ipswich, north-east of London, on holiday. She was a high school, (aka Sixth Form), history teacher and he worked for a company specializing in gassing buildings infested with insect pests! Ended up buying a 2012 Bacchus Dry, 13%, (Very much like many of the extremely well-crafted wines from Blue Grouse, (recently sold, I gather.), near Duncan on VI), and a 2010 Sparkling Red, brambly, hedgerow flavours, quite similar to some Sparkling Shiraz we'd first had in McLaren Vale, so rather a tasty drop!
After we paid for and collected our wine we trundled it back to the car and then loaded our bikes back on the rack for the drive home. Were lucky with the weather earlier as it started to rain quite heavily shortly after we left the winery. Earlier, while we were about halfway to Wadebridge, itself halfway point between Bodmin and Padstow, we encountered a few fairly heavy showers but didn't get too, too wet as much of the way we rode through enchanting tree tunnels which protected us from both the wind and the rain. Back home to unload and then to say thanks and goodbye to Gudrun and Steve. Won't see them for over a week as they are off to Newcastle on Sunday to attend a funeral and afterwards to visit Tanya, Mark's sister, (Mark is married to Krissy, Derek's/Gayle's youngest daughter), and family, in Poole, Dorset, I believe.
Late dinner, (overlefts of chicken/sausage and a mixed green saladin as neither of us were all that hungry after late pub lunch. After I'd done the washing up I worked away on the Diaries while Coriandre watched some TV. Both of us were pretty sleepy by midnight so it was lights out after we'd brushed and flossed. I boiled a kettle for her hot water bottle and was asleep, almost before she had filled it!
Unfortunately Banshee is shrieking as I pen so no time to describe, in detail, today's ride:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/359812970#.Ug5JMBBgaeY.email
Time to celebrate as this is the first ride in Cornwall, if not in England, that I have been able to achieve and maintain an AVG of 20.2 KPH! Official stats, (Non-Burning Ground Ride/NBGR, not to be confused with NRBC!)
Details to follow, when I've cracked the Macallan! Fondestos to your Sneering Sisterhood from my Harsh Task Mistress. Cheers, Il Conduttore!
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/picturegalleries/10225695/Britains-seaside-in-its-heyday.html#?frame=endScreen
Hi Raymond!
Thanks very much for link to various amusement spots. Quite interesting indeed. Haven't actually been to any of the places shown in Cornwall but they do look like some of the wonderful beaches/coves we have seen on our travels so far.
This morning was up at 6:57am to a somewhat dreary outlook but had hopes, after looking at BBC Weather for Truro, of better things to come. Worked away, java mug close at hand, on the Diaries, for an hour or so until Mistress Slowly, still favouring her sore back, came into the kitchen for her tea. After a few nasty comments she repaired to The Study to consult her iPad while Spudnik splayed himself at my feet, far preferring me to Her Imperious Highness.
Around 11:00am I put my Wetabix cakes in a bowlful of Whole West Country Milk to "mature", as both Wethrby Jim and Truro Derek were wont to comment and then set about discharging some of my household duties before setting off on the day's ride. Of late, (perhaps her sore back has made her even krankier than usual), Cora Shrew has taken on her mother's Rarotonga personality. We stopped there for a week at the end of our trip to Australia/New Zealand, in February, 1992, and Clarisse became obsessed about the beach sand being tracked onto floors and the local chickens which wandered in and out of the apartment. Rest of us loved fowl visiting our home and felt sand was just collateral damage after a glorious day on one of the many stunning, tropical beaches we had to choose from. At any rate Kora Krankenheimer was über fussing about me not tidying up the papers I'd strewn across the formal dining room table and the limitless tracts of unvacuumed rugs and gritty floors!
After such castigation really needed to have my Wetabix before getting out the Dyson. Dressed my nicely soggy cereal with sliced banana and a few dollops of apricot jam and set about hoovering. Spudnik did not take too, too kindly to me disturbing him with the vacuum cleaner and stalked off! Once the worst of the offending carpets were spotless I tackled my papers, billowing everywhere, having launched themselves from the dining room table into every nook and cranny of the house, some even trying to open the front door to escape into the garden!
Rogue brochures, maps and old Sainsbury's' bills in handcuffs and locked away, out of sight of the Sydney House Ogress, I was pleased to realize that the sun had had a chance to break through the fairly heavy cloud cover and was now blazing, almost mercilessly. I discovered this to be so when I took my bike out to the shed to clean and oil the chain, I had washed it down yesterday evening, after Gudrun and Stefano brought us home, to get the worst of the encrusted grime off, but wanted to do a more thorough job before setting off on next ride. I was wearing my black cycling vest, (A VPL cast-off from Imelda), and I was baking before I even started to work on bike. Stripped down quickly and gave the Navigator an all-over wash and lube. Back to grease my own self with sunblock and then, Camel Pack refilled, I waved goodbye to Queenie, sunning and reading on The Royal Chaise Lounge, and Spudnik, doing the same, reading, that is, a feline best-seller, Being a Cat Owner for Dummies, marking certain passages with clumps of his coat taken from the brush he is groomed with daily!
Had decided I would revisit the Carnon Downs ride of a few days ago as I was curious to see the truly grueling climb up Greenwith Hill was a little less daunting than last time. Quite looking forward to cycling on such a glorious, sunny afternoon I took N Hill out of Blackwater to take me on the loop which would drop me near the Scorrier/Wheal Rose roundabout so I could follow A3047 for a bit, towards Redruth, before taking B3298, for another bit, towards Chacewater. Route here is fairly flat with a nice long, downhill stretch into Chacewater itself. Once through the village, however, the Kerley Hill is a good grind until one reaches the top where one turns off onto another, smaller road which leads directly into Carnon Downs.
This stretch is the much sought after section as it presents about four miles of level, (together with a deliriously downhill swoop, 55+ KPH on the clock, almost fastest on ride, without a punishing climb to follow), going and allowed me to add to the 20 KPH AVG I had been able to maintain, in spite of Kerley Hill, ever since I left Scorrier. By the time I reached Carnon Downs I was doing about 22.1 KPH and knew it was all steep downhill, on Old Carnon Hill, into Perranwell, with agony waiting for me there! I knew that my speed would drop precipitously on the exhausting climb up never-ending Greenwith Hill but was very pleased that I'd been able to achieve my target AVG up till then.
Imagine my surprise, Dear Reader, when I found myself continuing on a level, wonderfully shaded stretch of road, paralleling the Carnon River, with nary a hint of the dreaded Greenwith Hill looming ahead. I soon realized that seeing a signpost for Bissoe, (not having seen it on earlier ride and not being overly familiar with route), I had turned off before actually entering Perranwell, thus nicely side-stepping the AVG destroying monster hill, and was sailing along towards Bissoe! Not long after whizzing past a few side lanes/roads, I recognized where I was, having cycled along the same route when I was hopelessly lost during the wretched search for Trelissick Garden. Now that I knew exactly where I was it hit me that I would be possible to maintain a 20 KPH AVG as the route home, although hilly at times, presented no deadly climbs.
Happy at this possibility, I was soon through the outskirts of Bissoe and turning off towards United Downs, watching the AVG drop as I worked up one long, gradual grade, gaining a bit on the drop down. See-sawing this way to Twelveheads and then Chacewater I was soon in sight of Blackwater, first riding under one of the numerous, magnificent, arched rail bridges hereabouts and then the utilitarian overpass closer to town. Since I only logged about 33 K at this point, I decided I'd make for Porthtowan, knowing that the climb back up into Wheal Rose might play havoc with my AVG, but remained optimistic and determined, nevertheless. I felt pretty good and my legs seemed strong in spite of the energy spent trying to keep up to speed. Retracing my earlier route to the Scorrier roundabout I had a few moments of worry as I climbed out of Wheal Rose but they were soon cast aside as I literally flew down the long grades into Porthtowan, going as fast I safely could, (One really has to be careful of coming around tight corners on these narrow roads as there is not much room for error, at any speed, let alone at 45-50+ KPH, when one encounters a small car, let alone a behemoth, a camper van or a tractor!
Fortunately, the wind was behind me, helping me along, as I made climb up from Porthtowan and into Wheal Rose. When I was pelting down the incline just past Brian Etherington Meat Company Farm Shop, I knew I was probably home-free as far as my goal. Rest of route I had already mapped out mentally presented nothing as difficult to traverse as what I'd just done. Light of heart I next made for Skinners Bottom, having to concentrate on the reasonable grade which dropped onto the road I had taken at the very start of the ride, all the way back to the intersection of B3277. Once here I followed it through Sevenmilestone, turning off shortly after, towards Mount Hawke.At this point, was a tad unclear of road I needed to take out of Mount Hawke and before I knew it I was headed down another hill towards Porthtowan again! Didn't want to reclimb the hills that awaited if I proceeded so did a quick, emergency dipsy-doodle and returned to Mount Hawke. In the direction I was now going I spotted the lane I should have taken earlier and was soon whistling down into Skinners Bottom. Did one complete loop here, adding a few precious bits of reserve on the ensuing down-slopes, to the AVG, before returning, via Wheal Rose, to Blackwater and Sydney House, quite chuffed at grand, grand ride!
Stats below for your perusal:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/359812970#.Ug5JMBBgaeY.emailTrust all goes well in sunny Vancouver! Cheers, Il Conduttore!
Hi D, thx for the visa numbers.........Happy Birthday to me!!!!! ;)
You'll never guess who I ran into this morning???
I was on Hastings dropping mom's pillow and other items off at the
thrift store.and was leaving the store walking to the car and there was
Pascal Wolf!! smoking with another lady outside, she sadly did not look
great, but she looked right at me and i knew
it was her right away, anyway very weird!!!
Had a meeting this morning in Gastown, that's why I was on Hastings, with a man named Ian
Merkel who runs the Reel Causes charity ( mom the film we went to see at the
SFU Woodward's building) and Dad you
would love him, he has been the director of the Jewish film fest for
years, is obsessed with films, goes to every film fest (although won't
volunteer for
VIFF) as he thinks the man that runs it
does a bad job!! He is from Johannesburg but lived in Cape Town and
loves to bike!! I want to set you two up!!! xxx
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