The Rain in Cornwall Falls Mainly Everywhere

To celebrate the 'awesome' summer we have been experiencing the past couple of months, we decided to take a trip down to Cornwall to see what rain looks like in the south-western-most corner of the country. Despite having sufficient oppotunity to assess the precipitation situation, we also got a little sun, enough for a brief swim anyway, and got another dose of quaint villages and lane driving.

Sci Fi in Cornwall at the Eden Project, St Austell

Art meets science and education

The trip started off at the Eden Project, in St Austell, and home to the world's largest greenhouses. They are indeed big, but the overriding feeling (for Aimes anyways) was of anxiety and suspicion, at the over the top efficiency and cleanliness of it all - a little like the Globex Corporation on the Simpsons, we were expecting the domes to contain some complex weapons production system, so were slightly disappointed to find them only containing some very intense humidity, which was dangerous enough by itself - to think we spent a year living in the tropics!

Hobbes proudly donning his Eden Project badge

Scrabble in the pub is a perfect way to while away a rainy afternoon

A stones throw from our campsite. The view from the rocky shores of Treyarnon Bay

We were camping at a beautiful spot on the coast between Padstow and Newquay, with a few houses, a camp ground a 'Snak Attak' and not much else. So, as per usual it was back down the road to St Merryn for nice pub dinner and a few local ales. Only problem being that the nice pub dinner turned out to be the greasiest fish and chips we'd ever eaten - I can't believe I didn't eat the whole thing!

Boats in St Ives

More boats in St Ives

The mossy roof tops of St Ives from the Tate cafe

Anyways, after experiencing some pretty heavy rain during the night (and thus being thankful that Gerg had shelled out for a decent tent - thanks mate), we woke to a pretty wet morning and headed down the coast to Newquay for breakfast. After passing some beautiful villages nestled in small coves along the coast road, we arrived in Newquay - perhaps the most unimpressive town in the whole county (of what we saw anyways). If mega-sized Walkies, Belushis and clubs named Barracuda are your thing, then get down there, unfortunately being OLD it's not ours, so after a quick pasty (being in Cornwall and all) and passing the 20th group of hung-over men with black eyes and cut-up faces we decided to move on...

Porthmeor Beach

Sunset at Treyarnon Bay

From Newquay we headed further down the coast to St Ives, which from the first glimpses from the top of the hill as we appraoched the town was definitely more of what we were looking for.... old houses, quiet beaches and for some reason lots of art galleries. After a bit of walking in circles we checked out the Tate St Ives and the beaches before deciding we were wet enough and retreating to a pub for another pint and some Scrabble :)

St Michael's Mount

Publicious

More sunset

From St Ives it was back to the campsite via Marazion, hoping to check out St Michaels Mount, a monestary on an Island in the English Channel. The pints and Scrabble had obviously been too much fun as we missed the last boat and had to content ourselves with a glimpse of the island through the mist and rain.

Us in Padstow

Padstow Harbour

Having difficulty accepting being within 10m of the ocean and not swimming (refer Belgium post) I decided that a 5 minute break in the clouds was enough opportunity to go for a swim. While not the coldest water I have ever been in (not quite Lake Jindabyne in the middle of winter) it was nevertheless cool, and the absence of waves meant that it was a quick 5 minutes before I was out again...

Aimes in Padstow

Being close to Padstow, or perhaps more aptly known by the local terminology of Pad-stein, we couldn't pass up the opportunity for lunch at Rick Stein's Seafood Restaurant - afterall what is better than a non-working Monday than a non-working Monday with a seafood lunch and a bottle of good wine? Anyways, there is definitely a certain affluence to Padstow, unsurprisingly considering it's reputation as the culinary centre of Cornwall, although it should be noted that most of the restaurants (and most of the shops) are in some way related to the Stein-onopoly.

One final St Ives

Two final thoughts
1. Why are there so many places in Cornwall named after Saints?
2. I've said it before, but you have to respect the liberal use of the definite article on British motorway signs (this time, THE South-West).

One final Eden Project

Australis

As we have recently just spent two weeks apart, and Hobbes has set a precedent of writing in the first person to document his last two weeks, I have now exposed myself as the lesser skilled writer of the two of us. I thought I would have longer to hide behind his writing, but this time has come much quicker than I expected...

To overcome such embarrasment, I am posting a photoblog with just a tad of commentary.

This one's for you Mim - a cliche travel photo!

Proud parents - benvenuto Matteo!

Ahhh... Bondi, bless

The best chefs the Shire has to offer

Tetsuyas - a guilty pleasure that could have written off a small developing country's debt

A Uighur feast

High tea with Shell and Diva No 1!

Full silver service and Nan's old crockery

Frankie and I

Tokyo and London to Surry Hills for Bill's ricotta cakes and oh... to catch up with Ryster

Backyard Blitz, in the Frontyard

Maxi's take on hats...

... Missy B's take on hats

It was an early one for breakfast tagines - much appreciated! x

The Art of Being a Passenger

Winnats Pass

With Aimes back in sunny Oz sorting a new visa, I had contemplated sitting around the house feeling sorry for myself for two weeks, that was until the possibility of a couple of trips to the NORTH (as the motorway signs like to refer to it) proved sufficiently pursuasive to get me off the lounge and into the back seat of a car. As being carless, I was reliant on the generousity of my middle class conservative firends (ie. Ains and Roh) for a lift, which fortunately they were kind enough to offer. The first trip, in deference to the Bank Holiday, was to the Peak (not Peaks) District in Derbyshire, selected due to its approximate equidistance between London and Beverley, home of the recently returned Kate and Andy.

The Pennine Way

As always, the best part about driving (or even passengering) on a British Motorway are the services (ie. truck stops) which are an opportunity to interact with people from a broad cross section of society, perhaps evidenced by the ubiquotous pokie rooms which are always passed first on entering.

The pub

Being a bank holiday it was inevitable that it would be rainy and cold, however I was a little dissappointed with the seriousness that the weather-gods were taking it, as daytime temperatures droppped to single figures and it seemed there wasn't more than one hours respite from the constant drizzle for the whole 3 days. The down jacket, which had been put away for the summer, even got a run. Still this once again provided an oppotunity for the British people, and in particular their ramblers, to prove their resiliance, as the countryside of the Peak was alive with walkers paying scant regard to the inclement conditions. I guess you would never leave the house if you were soft like us, but I was more than happy to spend the majority of the weekend in a pub with an ale in one hand and a massive chip butty in the other.

Rohie enjoying the Bank Holiday weather

Fortunately, this is how the weekend began for me, as arriving at the Royal Oak, our accomodation for the weekend at about 11:45, we only had to wait 15 minutes before opening time and the first ales of the day. With Kate and Andy arriving soon after and a fair bit of catching up to be done, it wasn't surprising that this was the first of a few, and that it was a bit of a struggle to get us out of there for a walk... we did manage to drag ourselves along the Penine Way, a disused rail line for a couple of hours, although you wouldn't call it particularly strenuous... Afterwards we reaquainted ourselves with the bar, feeling the need to sample a few more of the regions ales (and on my part indulging in my new found love of offal related meals).

The weather

The queue

The "cave"

Next morning the weather hadn't changed, considering this we decided that the anticipated walking was off the agenda and instead decided to check out a few of the areas caves. After a breakfast consisting of the cholesterol charged traditional full-english in Haver???, we decided to give Speedwell Cavern a shot, however before this we had to engage with the British love of the queue, standing in the elements for a good couple of hours before decending into the "cave".

Sampling some more of the north's finest at the Fox Hole

"Cave" as it would probably be better described as what it was - a mine shaft, which although accessed via a boat, didn't exactly live up to the expectations we had been developing over the previous couple of hours standing in the rain. At least it was dry, slightly warmer than outside and out of the wind. Perhaps the most dissappointing part of the experience was that we didn't have time to see another of the caves named the Devils Arse, with its obvious appeal...

Darting up at the Royal Oak

After the excitement of the cave we took a bit an extended drive around the more rugged northern part of the Peak, with its impressive moors and the ever present hardy souls walking amongst them. As you do, we found the time for a couple more stops at remote pubs to make sure their fare was up to standard and dined at Andy's favourite the Fox Hole (which reportedly had been recently done up, although I suspect he is a closet gastro-pub lover). As always the highlight of a country pub being the fact that people are often outnumbered by dogs! back to the Royal Oak for a few more pints and a couple of games of darts, did i meantion i'm trying to assimilate?

Monday wasn't much flasher than the previous two days, we breakfasted in Bakewell (home of the Bakewell Tart, not Tarts) wandered around the market, tempted frostbite before deciding to get on the road back to London.

Beers on the River Ouse

After barely having had time to reaquint myself with the delights of the tube, crowds and pollution, another weekend rolled round and it was time to hit The North for the second time in a week. This time we were headed to Beverley in Yorkshire, home of Kate and Andy. So it was back on to the M1, again stretching the friendship of Ains and Roh as I reaquainted myself with their backseat. Feeling a distinct sense of dejavu, we decided to live on the edge and not breakfast at the same services two saturdays in a row, and instead stuck it out for a whole extra 10 miles...

More beers on the Ouse

After not too long we arrived in Beverley, where we found a very busy Saturday Market, in a beautiful town, with a main street crowded with Bakers but somewhat devoid of Wine Shops. We headed around to Kate and Andy's for a bit before heading into York to make the most of the unsurprisingly sunny afternoon (being the weekend after a Bank Holiday and all). Being with locals we did waht locals do, got about drinking a few beers at the many pubs along the River Ouse. In between pints we managed to check out a few of the sights including the Minster, Clifford's Tower, and the Shambles.

The frequently flooded Kings Arms

Next day after seeing the Humber Bridge (we were all engineers), it was Kate and Andy's welcome home/reception for people who couldn't make it to Australia function in a manor near their place. The highlight of the very impressive meal being the first decent Yorkshire pudding I've had over here...

Kate and Andy's reception

So two weekends in a row of travelling up the M1 to the NORTH, and I was getting pretty used to being a passenger and for the first time in a while was starting to regret not having wheels of our own...

Big Flaming Ball of Fire

Us, a little paler after 12 months in London

There has recently been a strange phenonenon over the skies of london, big yellow fireball has been sighted, which is reminicent of what we used to call the sun back in the warmer climes that we used to call home... this phenomenon has been related to the rise in temperatures with daily maximums getting within a degree or two of the nightly minimums of Moree. These occurrances led to us to hope that just maybe, summer had arrived...

Hampstead Heath - the first opportunity to feel the green grass between the toes

Aimes and Kate

Unsurprisingly it wasn't long before our folly became apparent and after naively thinking that we had managed to outlast the worst of what (admittedly a very mild) London winter had to throw at us, and having put our coats in for drycleaning, this week reminded us just how wrong we were. No more outrageously warm, get your shirt off in the park, 20 degree days, replaced instead by the usual cold, grey drizzle...

Slides at the Tate Modern

The Tate Modern Turbine Hall

Though it's not all bad news, the sun is still up at 9pm, the trees are green again and there has been a few great days over past few weeks. We have also just passed the 12 month mark of our stay in London, which despite setting new records for paleness, doesn't appear to have done us too much harm...

Our new digs

Beers in Greenwich

Anyways, it's been a while since London updates and what's been happening in this part of the world i hear you all ask... well despite the few trips we've been on recently (as documented previously) we have quite effectively established ourselves as home bodies. It seems Fulham has the same effect as Bondi or Manly, with the effort to get places being too much to overcome many weekends.

The Greenwich Foot Tunnel

Brompton Cemetary - One of the Magnificent Seven

Our loungeroom becomes the Cricket World Cup drop in centre

The weather has been pretty good though, so there have been a couple of picnics (that's right poor-man's beach) Much to Hobbes' joy the warm weather has also led to a return of pavement beers (that is, standing on the road in front of the pub) and the Cricket World Cup and Anzac day have provided ample opportunity us to indulge in Australian nationalism, as you can really lose touch with Australian culture living in Fulham :)

Outside Buckingham Palace, 6am 25.04.07

Also in other news the British Government has seen fit to provide Hobbes with a work permit until 2012 under the illusion that he will provide some benefit to the country... now we only have one more hurdle to overcome before the visa odessey is complete - convincing the Home Office that our 10 year relationship is legit... keeps life interesting...

One from less warm times - the first outside beer of the year

One final summer/spring weather comment - what's the go with the constant rain of pollen you get here this time of year, you seriously can't take a breathe outside without getting a mouth full and the gutters are piled high with it. Too many plane trees I recon, where's Wilson Tuckey when you need him?

Chinese New Year hang over