Jolly rogered in Port Isaac

At first it looked like sunshine, then I realised that it was raindrops, lit up by the street lighting turned on early due to the gloom, so what better way than to commiserate but with a pint of Cornish Doombar, which just about sums up my mood.
We stop at Clovelly, a pretty Cornish port, and whilst I was in the loo, that resident gardener, who always seems to follow me around, had paid the nearly six quid each(there’s a joke coming here somewhere) entrance fee to the village.

£6! Now its quite pretty, but on a rule of thumb on that basis, the entrance fee to Valbonne should be about £60! (Or 72 Euros at today’s exchange rate). What is it with the charges in this mad country? 

£6 to park on a piece of rough ground yesterday? Jesus, I could but 2 bottles of excellent Provencal rose for that! And have enough change for a packet of crisps. 

Apparently the money raised is used to maintain the village, so, in effect, the customers  are paying to improve someone else’s property. Outrageous, its like letting your villa out and using the money to improve err um.. 

You name it, we visited it, Boscastle, Tintagel, Trewlawny, and got rained on in them all. 

Later, we text Claire Warner with the news that we are drinking a pint of Ginger Tosser, a premium Cornish beer. She retorts that she thought that he was driving….they must have already started their daily row. 

Eventually we arrived at Port Isaac, and what a pretty place it is, made prettier by the Golden Lion pub on the port side, and, the sun has come out! Oh no, its gone again, but it did, honest! 

We meet a rough and ready Yorkshireman on the terrace overlooking the harbour who also has dogs. He asked if they are male or female, and I explain that they are neither but were once male. He replies that his dog was also similarly treated by his mother in law. Apparently the dog went there for 2 weeks and came back without his testicles, and gives this as the reason he stopped visiting.! 

Then, as we were partaking of dinner aThe Slipway Hotel, Port  Isaacs Fisherman’s Friends, the Cornish sea shanty singing phenomenon, the sensations of Glastonbury this year, started singing on the beach.
so dinner was abandoned. 

With a recent Top 10 album, and TV appearances they have become celebrities, who all apparently live in Port Isaac within 300 yards of each other, and have all refused to give up their day jobs. 

What better setting to see the surprise hit group of the year in their home town at sunset with the tide going out… As my picture shows.