Chyauster — remains of a third century settlement where people mined and farmed not far from the sea; in the 18th century it was used as an outdoor temple by the methodists; now it’s a study and tourist site
Dear friends and readers,
For my trip to the UK this year, to Cornwall a few weeks ago, I wrote my travelogues on my other two blogs as most of what I was writing was not seriously informative the way my trip to the Lake District and Border country of England and Scotland was last year, or to Inverness, Scotland and environs (one we drove all round the countryside by the sea across the way from the Hebrides!) the year before. But I’ve a hope that even life-writing of the travel memoir sort and some connections of Jane Austen to Cornwall will be of interest, find favor here too.
Another time away: again Cornwall
The Falmouth Hotel where I stayed
Cassandra’s depiction of Jane Austen, said to be by the seaside, southwest England, 1804
I am pretending to hold up a neolithic stone monument said to be 6000 years old (Bodmin Moor)
Mevagissey
Vedova parlando: what I was told while away
What I cannot convey with a photo is the intense relief I feel when on these trips I go into a large church or cathedral, which is cool and quiet. I feel this strongest in the central nave, and it’s most common in Anglican churches — some large formal beauty but not overdone — sitting by one of the columns not far from the usual row of high windows. I like the absolute quiet, away from sun and noise and movement. It is broken (sometimes ruined altogether) when a guide comes by and starts to talk and a crowd forms, or worse yet, people begin taking these endless photos. It’s at first just getting in to a sense of deep escape. I am not communing with any god. It’s solitude in these places of stone. Remember Quasimodo: Charles Laughton’s crying crying crying at the end of the 1930s film — but I do not cry; I sit trying to take the quiet and stillness in; I can never have enough.
And, so as I enter here from day to day
And leave my burden …
The tumult of the time disconsolate
To inarticulate murmurs dies away
— from Longfellow’s sonnets on translating Dante …
I first conceived my desire to go to Cornwall in the 1990s when I read for the first time Winston Graham’s Poldark novels and watched the 1970s serial drama, Poldark. See my Poldark at the Smithsonian this year as part of this series.
1970s Poldark, the second year, first episode — the coming of Sam and Drake Poldark
On the beach: Demelza among the rocks and ancient fish with Hugh Armitage — Angharad Rees 1970
Again on the beach: Demelza after a emotionally painful night at another party — Eleanor Tomlinson 2017
This is my blog from 2015, my first visit where I tell of how I came to know and love the Poldark series and books.
Ellen
Ellen And Jim Have A Blog, Two 