This is the honesty-box veg shop in Albaston. You work out what you owe, and put your money in the red box. I bought some onions and eggs. There are quite a few people who sell their surplus veg or eggs or pots of jam from a shelf by the gate, but this is a monster operation by comparison - as well as all the veg, they have shelves and shelves of garden plants and flower in pots behind where I'm standing to take this. Excellent as long as you either have exactly the right money, or are prepared to take your change in carrots and leeks.
This is the architectural marvel that is the well-used Calstock Football Club. Note the exciting use of bent corrugated roofing. Occasionally at high tide, on days when the river is feeling overexcited, the smart brick paving is underwater, but it seems to be surviving this fairly well. The football pitch is often what the unkind would call 'a bog'.
And here is the alley behind the Boot Inn in Calstock. I like it because it's sort of quaint, but also very lived-in and utterly untidy and un-improved, what with the washing and the bins and the plastic tricycle and the weeds and the telegraph pole and the way someone has somehow managed to jam a car into there (rather them than me, the roads of Calstock appear to be largely designed for donkeys, at the widest). It reminds me of a painting by that old Oxford artist who painted slums and alleys. What was his name? I really should remember it, long ago I volunteer-curated an exhibition of his work - but no, it's gone...
