Falmouth, Jupiter and solitude

“Oh! You’re from Jupiter too.”I blinked at the hairy stranger. “Erm…am I?”“Yeah I can tell. I can just tell.”The hairy stranger pointed his finger across the pub table and, after a moment of hesitation, I touched the brandished finger briefly with the end of mine. I must have passed this test of Jupiter etiquette becauseContinue reading “Falmouth, Jupiter and solitude”

Daphne du Maurier wrote her first book here but I forgot to bring a pen so I’m writing this stupid blog instead

Fowey is not pronounced Fow-ee. That’s the most surprising thing about this small Cornish fishing town. Everything else is exactly as it should be. Steep narrow streets, quaint cafes offering Cornish cream teas, crooked 16th century pubs, seagulls, little shops (selling postcards, chunky jewellery, floaty dresses and those tiny wooden sailing ships you’re supposed toContinue reading “Daphne du Maurier wrote her first book here but I forgot to bring a pen so I’m writing this stupid blog instead”

A pilgrimage to Tremough campus

I wasn’t ready for uni to end. It went by in a happy, hedonistic flash and before I knew it I was trussed up in one of those standard ‘office girl’ shift dresses staring at a computer screen churning out generic website content about things like coronary heart disease and diabetes which – let’s faceContinue reading “A pilgrimage to Tremough campus”