bunn (bunn) wrote,
bunn
bunn

Come for a walk!

A fabulous warm sunny day on Saturday.  I shall go for a long walk, I thought!  But when I got halfway up the hill, I remembered I still had a cold, and was very wheezy.  So I hastily rethought my route and paused to take some photos.  Here we are pausing, and admiring the early cherry tree.


Pausing again by the pub, to inspect the water-channel and the New Splendiferous Bollards.  Normally, this channel isn't a stream, but I think there's a blockage in the complex and nightmarish drainage system further up the hill at the moment, so the pub temporarily has a moat.

The moat has been the cause of some controversy lately.  It is a rustic thing, and people used to come and park on top of it to go to the pub, which, along with rain and flood, resulted in the channel getting all torn up.  Because, I assume, we are in an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, and it probably has some preservation thing on it, the council which maintains the roads could not just whack a layer of tarmac on there.  Instead, they had to come WITH SHOVELS and dig it all out manually and re-lay it all beautifully.  They have done a very stylish job, but I saw them doing it, and wow, there were some grumpy, grumpy faces there.   They did NOT want to be re-laying gravel and cobbles with shovels.   So, they put up some funny little thin plastic bollard things to stop people parking on it, so they wouldn't have to do it all again next year.

Did the proud people of Cornwall think, Oh, that is a good idea, perhaps we had better park elsewhere rather than on this delicate cobbled drainway?  NO.   They thought: these bollards are in the way, and they are not very sturdy.  We will chop them off so we can continue to park in the gutter!

So the grumpy council men returned (I'm guessing they were even grumpier this time, although I didn't actually see them at it that time.) and they put up BOLLARDS OF MAXIMUM ROBUSTNESS, made of solid metal.  I did wonder if someone would come with an angle-grinder to remove them, but so far at least, they have survived, although from the cracking around them, it does look like someone has at least nudged them with a land-rover or something, just to see how easily they might move.

Anyway, I staggered onward, through the old Clitters mine.




I took a photo of someone's washing.  I love the colours and the light coming through the shirts!


We headed off into the woods, past the alpacas.  Rosie Roo has a complicated relationship with this young alpaca.  I'm not sure why, but whenever we go past here, she has to stand on the bank staring deep into its enormous dark eyes, and it always comes and stares back at her.


You want to see the alpaca better, don't you?  Oh all right.  Here she is.  Isn't she adorable?


No bluebell flowers yet in the woods, it's far too early, but the shoots are showing above the ground in the sunbeams.


Rosie, WHY?  Why do you stand there looking like that, and refusing to come, or go, or do anything other than stare, maniacally?  What are you staring at?   Brythen and I are both foxed by this sort of thing.  I had to put her back on the lead in the end, or we'd have been there all day.


There are a few daffodils in flower already, here and there, but the old daffodil farms where the bulbs still come up through the leaf-litter in the woods aren't in bloom yet.


Some of the sunny patches already have yellow cheery celandines though.


I got wheezy again in Gunnislake, so I stopped and photographed this letterbox.  I hadn't noticed before that it is a nineteenth-century one - you can tell, because it says V R on it, for Queen Victoria.


Enthused by my Victorian letterbox, I photographed this when I went past it back up the hill.  I love the way the lettering has suddenly got wild and swervy - Queen Victoria's font is very severe and proper, but George is almost too curvy with his swirly lettering!  I thought it was George V, but looking at it again, there's a little VI under that crown?  So I think it must be George VI, 1936-1952.  Perhaps the lettering is dancing because it is happy WWII is over.


And here I am back by the early cherry tree, but now the sun has been on it for a while, and the bees have arrived!  The whole tree was scented and buzzing madly with honey-bees. Sadly, I didn't have the right lens on so no bee photos from me, but I took a snap of the flowers from inside the tree.


And here is the last postbox, this time a newer Elizabeth II one.   Although the post office behind it is sadly an Old Post Office, they take their connection to their postbox seriously enough that where the Victorian and Georgian boxes are looking rather shabby, this box had a nice new coat of paint when the house had the door re-painted.


Today I was more ambitious and walked further, doing a walk that involves a steep uphill climb on the way home.  Oh lord, that was a mistake.  I have spent the rest of the day wrapped around a bath, a book and a lemsip.  So I still have not done the long walk I planned, but the hounds seem to be prepared to accept that I'm not quite up to providing a mega-walk today, thank goodness.  They are fast asleep. 
Tags: dogs, tamar valley, walks, weather
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