Don't you just love a listening politician?

Theresa May is on tour in what she fondly imagines to be a listening exercise, or at least, what she thinks we will be fooled into thinking is a listening exercise. She’s visiting the colonies of Wales, Northern Ireland and Scotland in an attempt to sell her Brexit deal to the natives. Some might call this slightly patronising but I couldn't possibly comment. The format of each visit is the same: Theresa will drop in, do a tour of some business establishment owned by a Conservative friendly businessperson, while bemused staff look on wordlessly. She’ll smile her rictus grin at the cameras, mouth a few platitudes about getting the best Brexit deal for everyone, about how it’s not the time for another referendum. Then she’ll give non-answers to questions from the press, if at all, and will promptly whizz off again. Job done. You’ll have had your consultation, plebs. And she'll have had her listening image featured heavily in the news - which is the real object of the exercise, isn't it?

It’s a measure of the disconnect between the Prime Minister and the public, indeed the rest of the world, that she imagines that this sort of manufactured exercise in walkaboutery is actually meaningful in any sense. It provides the form of listening to the people without any of the messy content of actually, errr, listening to the people. If she really wanted to hear what the people have to say, she could do. She could allow another referendum, but she’s not going to do that because, if she did and people voted not to leave the EU after all, she’d have to resign. In Theresaland, people are only allowed to voice their opinions when their opinions happen to be what Theresa wants to hear.

This pointless meet 'n greet 'n run away is precisely the opposite of listening to what the country has to say. It would be a far more productive use of everyone’s time if Theresa went off on one of her walking holidays and spent a fortnight chatting to some sheep deep in the countryside somewhere (near Stoke-on-Trent, perhaps?). We’d all get a break from her, and Theresa would have a receptive audience for a change. An audience which wouldn’t contradict her or have the wool pulled over their eyes.

It’s not just that Theresa May doesn’t want the public to have a say, she doesn’t want the House of Commons to have a say either. She had to be dragged screaming and kicking into allowing MPs a meaningful vote on her Brexit deal, and did her utmost to try and make the meaningful vote as meaningless as just about anything that ever comes out of Boris Johnson's gob.

She has fought tooth and nail against the legal attempt to get a European Court of Justice ruling on whether the House of Commons can unilaterally put a halt to the Article 50 process, without the permission of the rest of the EU. At every step along the way the British government has spent hundreds of thousands of pounds in legal bids to halt the proceedings.

Despite a vote being passed in the House of Commons telling the government to release the full legal advice that it has received on Brexit, Theresa has refused to do so. Instead her government has released a brief summary, which satisfies none of the opposition parties. The offer to release the summary was made by David Lidington, the Minister for the Cabinet Office, in an attempt to get the motion calling for a full release to be withdrawn. The motion wasn’t withdrawn, and passed unanimously after the government decided to abstain.

This, let’s not forget, is the same government that says it’s pursuing Brexit in order to restore the sovereignty of the British parliament. We now have a British government which claims to be working to restore full powers to the House of Commons, which is deliberately ignoring a binding vote taken by that same House of Commons obliging the government to do something it doesn’t like. That’s British sovereignty for you.

For a woman who says she wants to listen, Theresa is doing a very good impression of someone sticking her fingers in her ears and screaming la-la-la-la at the top of her voice. There comes a point when a refusal to listen, a determination to plough on regardless, crosses the line between strength of character and resolution and enters into pigheaded delusion. Theresa May and her hapless government crossed that line quite some time ago.

We’re reaching the end game now. The end game for Brexit, and the end game for this supposed United Kingdom. One way or another there’s going to be a vote, whether that’s a General Election or a second EU referendum. When that vote happens, Theresa May and the Conservatives will be made to listen. That’s going to be a listening exercise that really counts and really means something. Theresa is not going to like what the people of the UK have to say. And, as I've said previously, she's brought it on herself.

It all gets me frothing at the mouth!

An open letter to the Prime Minister

Dear Prime Minister,

Thank you for your recent begging letter. I'll try not to be too churlish as, after all, congratulations are in order.  Under your premiership. the UK may be divided as never before, fearful of the future, angry and anxious, but gainst all the odds you have managed to unite this disunited and dysfunctional kingdom. Everyone thinks that your deal stinks.

You ask for everyone to get behind you. That’s a big ask. You started Brexit negotiations by deciding to ignore the wishes of that half of the UK which had voted to remain and by deciding unilaterally that those who had voted to leave wanted the hardest possible Brexit. At every stage in these sorry proceedings you were motivated first and foremost by your own career interests, and then by keeping your miserable and fractious party together. Your plan was, and is, to do whatever it takes to further the interests of the Conservative party, and now you have the nerve to write to the people of the UK begging us to get behind you in the national interest.

You began in bad faith and have continued the same way. You initiated the Article 50 process without having a clear plan other than wishful thinking and the unshakeable belief that the EU owed the UK its cake and its cherries because Britain is special. You activated Article 50 when you did because local elections in England were looming. Securing a greater number of Conservative councillors in the shires of England was far more important to you than this so-called national interest which you’re now pleading with us to get behind. You compounded our view that you were acting purely in your own selfish self-interest by embarking upon an entirely unnecessary general election at a crucial point: at a point when the UK should have been framing a coherent and cohesive set of Brexit plans. Instead, you decided that it was an ideal time to try and get one up on the Labour party and secure a large majority for your visionless Brexit, your blank Euro cheque. And you failed. You ended up losing the majority that you did have. The people of the UK told you plainly that we didn’t want your hard nose Brexit that pandered to the Tory right, and yet you ploughed on regardless. Nothing has changed.

Throughout the entire sorry and miserable past two and a half years, you have acted selfishly and mendaciously. And now you wonder why we’re not prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt.

At every step in this Brexit process, your government has been characterised by blinkered self-interest and incompetence. You’ve spent the past two and a half years negotiating with your own party. The UK interest really hasn’t got a look in. And now you want us to get behind your deal, Theresa? Well, in your own words: now is not the time. Now is not the time for us to meekly follow you.  Now is the time for us to say, we’ve had enough. You’ve brought this upon yourself.

Yours without sympathy,

Deri Parsons
Disgruntled of Higher Downgate

Up the Fowey for a stretch of the legs

And now for something relatively different - a walk that doesn't involve the coast or a moor. This one took us to St Neot and alongside the River Fowey for a while. Lots of autumn colour and enough up and downs to make it a good stretch of the legs and lungs.

We started and ended at |Treverbyn Bridge and the circular route was around 6.5 miles. The elevation profile was as hilly as it looks.

Our starting point as the medieval bridge at Treverbyn, crossing the River Fowey. The
greater part of its build is of early 15th century date but the western
part of the bridge incorporates substantial remains from an earlier phase. Mr Google says "The western part of the bridge contains pre-C15 fabric, which was referred to in around 1412 as ‘threatening total ruin’. Donations to the Church for the repair of bridges were common in early Christianity and in the medieval period, and ‘Indulgences’ issued by the Church guaranteed penance for sin for a certain number of days in exchange for labour or money to the repair of building of a bridge. In 1412 or 1413, Bishop Stafford, the Bishop of Exeter granted an Indulgence to fund the repair of Treverbyn Bridge, providing a pardon of forty days penance from sin for contributors. These repairs are evident in the fabric of the bridge’s eastern arches".  

Although it's had to imagine now, Treverbyn Bridge was once on the main road between Liskeard and Bodmin. Nowdays all vehicular traffic goes over the newer bridge to the right.

I suppose you might as well be comfortable when you are fishing. This river is really good for Brown Trout, or so I've read.

Looking down the River Fowey.

At the hamlet of Lower Tranent we came across the old Bible Christian Methodist Chapel. It originates from the 1830s/1840s and was closed in 1963. The building is now used as the office for a camping and caravanning site. There are a couple of interesting facts about this chapel. Firstly, this Schedule II monument is listed as 'details unknown' - not even Mr Google can shed any light on it. Secondly, the chapel did not have a graveyard when it was first consecrated but one was later added when the local C of E church in St Neot refused to bury anyone who was baptised into the Bible Christian Sect. Sadly, the first person to take advantage of the new 'facility' was a 13 year old girl from a nearby farm.

A pattern of leaves, with just a touch of green from holly and lichen

The traditional way of getting over a stone wall. This one was particularly difficult to spot as, at a distance, it was indistinguishable from its background. How old are these? Obviously as old as the walls in which they are built. This one? Given the state of the wall, pretty old - and still standing. Negotiating wet, moss-covered stones is always such fun

We never came across the Kindling Kid, unless his alter-ego was the stick underneath this covering. It's a pity Stan Lee of Super Hero fame has just died otherwise he might have been interested in a franchise for Kindling Kid. Just when you thought your fire would never light, in flies Kindling Kid.

It seems absolutely ages since I've had a good wallow in some proper mud. Loverly.

The mist came down and visibility was limited. It was one of those rare occasions (actually, there have only been three previous times in my eight years of having one) when my GPS was used in earnest. With no visual reference points, it was useful to keep us on the right track across some featureless fields.

Another stile, a little steeper than most and with the added joy of
a hurdle to negotiate at the top. There's no point in making things easy for walkers. We relish a challenge.

A green lane leading off the open land down to the farms. Once upon a time, these would have been used to take cattle up for their summer grazing. Perhaps they still are.

The old farmhouse of Wortha looking rather foreboding in the mist

An ideal spot for our lunch break: by a rushing, gurgling stream.

The trig point on Berry Down. Formally, it's the trig point at Hut Camp Fort, taking its name from the nearby early prehistoric hillfort with outwork and outlying stone hut circle known as Berry Castle. Unfortunately the poor visibility and bracken growth conspired to obscure what was there to see. A case for a revisit? And the trig point? Apparently it is the 1837th most visited trig point on the Trigpointing.uk website. I suppose that gives it a certain cachet.

Wenmouth Cross, described as a 'mutilated Latin cross of unknown age'. It is much decorated on its four sides, although this is much obscured. It is also known as the '4-hole cross' as, on one side, there are 4 holes, reminders that it was once used as a gatepost! It was rescued by the Old Cornwall Society and reinstated in the 1930s.

And it's back to the beginning. A route to be repeated, possibly in the spring when the woods are bedecked with fresh greenery.

Coastal Footpath: Tintagel Castle to Trebarwith Strand. Plus St Clether as a bonus

With the forecasters telling us about high winds and lots of rain, let's do the obvious thing and walk along a stretch of the Coastal Footpath. And very good it was, too. We do like these sorts of days, we do. There was a bonus at the end with an impromptu visit to the church and Holy Well at St Clether.

This was a circular route from Tintagel Church to Trebarwith Strand. Around 4.5 miles, taking in countryside and the coast. Bearing in mind the direction of the wind, we decided that the inland leg was tackled first so we could have the wind at our backs as we came up the coast. In the event, it was a sensible decision. The rain held off and, for most of the time, the wind was not so strong that it caused us any problems.

As we only multiply (two children, seven grandchildren), we felt we could ignore this sign at the entrance to the graveyard.

St Materiana's Church. The first church on the site was thought to be built in the 6th century and was founded as a daughter church of Minster in Boscastle which is even older. The current church here was built in the late 11th or early 12th century with the tower added in the 13th or 14th centuries.

St Materiana is thought to have been a Welsh princess of the 5th century, the eldest of three daughters of King Vortimer the Blessed, Not a lot is known about her and there is only one other church in Cornwall, Minster at Boscastle, dedicated to her. This is a detail from the stained glass window in 'her' church.

As for many, the Victorians had a hand in remodelling the interior but the rood screen is original and is a fine example of mediaeval carving.

This Norman font is thought to have been brought from St Julitta's chapel at nearby Tintagel Castle. There is a face at each corner, all similar but not identical. Who were they modelled on? 

The "herringbone" style of walling built with tightly packed alternating diagonal slate courses, is unique to this part of the world.  It is known locally as "Jack and Jill", "Curzy Way" or "Kersey Wave".  On a long wall, the herringbone sections are generally between towers of flat-laid slate which help to prevent the wall slumping sideways.

From a man-made pattern to a natural one - young mussels clinging to the rocks at Trebarwith Strand.

Access to the beach for launching vessels etc is via this channel cut out of the slate bedrock. Ponder a while on the effort needed to do this. Nowadays it's mainly used by surfers and windsurfers but there are a few local crabbers that use the slipway.

Gull Island (just one of many so named along the coast), just off Trebarwith. I read somewhere that, because of the generous supply of bird guano deposited on the rock, it's becoming quite a fertile habitat for Sea Samphire.

Waves breaking at the end of Penhallic Point where the cliff edge was trimmed to form a 100ft vertical face. Ships could lie against this face as there is a natural deep-water berth alongside the point and slate was lowered by crane down into their holds. A path from the top of the point zig-zags down to a grassy platform where the lifebuoy is visible. This, the path, not the lifebuoy, was used by donkeys for the transport of materials.

There are nine slate quarries along this stretch of the coastal footpath.  Quarrying began here in the early 14th Century and ended just before The Second World War. The slate was exported from Tintagel Haven and later from boats moored along Penhallic Point. The crumbling stone walls and the outlines of buildings are the remnants of Bagalow quarry.  It is one of the smaller coastal quarries in this   area and dates back to at least the 1800s. The quarry face runs from sea level all the way to the top of the cliff where there are remnants of a powder magazine  and a horse whim used to haul the slate up from the quarry face. You can also make out some scullocks. What are these? Read on...………….

  In Lanterdan quarry there is this very distinctive pinnacle of rock, left behind as the slate in this was not of a sufficiently good quality for use. These chunks of inferior-quality slate were known as "scullocks".

We did not see many other people out on the cliffs today and I think I'll try and catch this one up. She looks rather attractive and, who knows, she might come home with me.

Courting down't Gilla
adders meet
amidst the tab mawn
lover's end
We came across this engraved stone near the end of our walk. Another job for Mr Google and this is what he came up with:
"Individual stanzas of the poem Amanda White wrote in collaboration with the residents of Tintagel were engraved onto ’touchstones‘ made from local slate which formed a circular walk linking the village to its main tourist attraction, Tintagel Castle. The touchstones are placed within the landscape of Tintagel in the places which directly inspired the words. Many of these contain information about the area's ecology and history. This stanza is placed at the corner of a field which is historically a place where lovers have come to court, and a place where adders are likely to be spotted. The poem also uses the Cornish name for Sea Daisy, tab mawn, and in doing so celebrates and preserves the local dialect".

"December 20th 1893: a mounted messenger galloped into Boscastle with news that a large ship was driving ashore, but by 4 pm the 1000-ton iron barque Iota of Naples had crashed under the great Lye rock off Bossiney Cove. Her crew leapt for the rocks, but two fell and were crushed under the barque’s bilges, while Domenico Cantanese, aged fourteen, was swept away. Only the body of the young cabin boy was recovered from the sea, he’s buried in the windswept graveyard of St Materiana Church Tintagel, where a wooden cross and a lifebuoy bearing his name and ‘Iota, Napoli, 1893’ still marks his grave".

This intriguing epitaph prompted a quick visit to Mr Google, who came up with this snippet from his wife, Lynne: "He died suddenly in the gym whilst training and wouldn't have known what was happening. We had no signs. The day he died he`d sat with me and told me how happy he was and how peaceful his life was with me, then went into the gym, finished his training, wrote in his book ( he documented every training session, which he dedicated to either people he knew or Stoke City), then died! Tans is buried here in Tintagel at St Matriana's looking over the cliffs of King Arthurs Castle, a place he really loved! The lads from Powerhouse came down to carry his coffin. He was buried with his Stoke scarf and his training belt!"

I won't go into the details here but the placement of this War Memorial was subject to much heated discussion between the various churches and chapels in Tintagel. It was not a time of great unity.

The church and holy well in St Clether are dedicated to Saint Cleder (or Clederus), one of the twenty-four children of Brychan. The church is of Norman origin, with a 15th century tower and (apart from the tower) was rebuilt in 1865.
Brychan was a legendary Celtic king (originally born in Ireland) who ruled over Breconshire in South Wales and was viewed as the father of the Celtic saints. Several mediaeval manuscripts state that he was married three times but the numbers of children vary from 12 to 63 with 24 being the most commonly reported number. There is also little agreement in the lists of names between Cornish and Welsh manuscripts. It is thought that the list of his children may have grown over time as more people claimed themselves or their local saint to be descended from what was seen as the holy family. Most of his children were reported to have evangelised Cornwall and North Devon, with many of the churches dedicated to them. Consequently, many of the place names in North Cornwall (St Teath, St Mabyn, St Endellion, St Minver, St Clether, Egloshale, Egloskerry, Advent, Morwenstow, Lelant etc) are associated with the names of his children.

St Clether as depicted in a very luminous stained glass window in the church.

Just a couple of days before Remembrance Sunday and a memorial window has been prepared. Simple but effective.

Remodelled by the Victorians but still very atmospheric. The ceiling line felt quite low and gave the interior a very comfortable feeling.

The well-house covering the holy well of St Clether, a pleasant 1/2 mile stroll near the Inny from the church

It is reputed that St Cleder built his hermitage by a spring in the Inny valley, and erected the 5th century granite altar which can still be seen there. The chapel was originally the village church until the Normans built one, on the site of the present church, in the 12th Century. In the 15th Century, the chapel and well were altered so that the water from the holy well ran through the chapel (past the relics of St Cleder behind the altar) and into the well at the front of the chapel (bottom right on the building) where it would be collected by pilgrims. The flow past the relics was thought to increase the healing power of the water. By the end of the 19th century, the chapel was in ruins, with only the altar and some walling remaining, but was rebuilt around 1900.

The altar which has been there for some 1500 years.

 

On this day in 1918, Wifred Arthur Cornish died

 

Private 67960
Wilfred Arthur Cornish
1st Battalion, Auckland Regiment
New Zealand Expeditionary Force
Died 4th November 1918
Age 37

Wilfred Arthur Cornish has the dubious distinction of being the last local man to be killed in action in WW1. He was born on 15th September 1881, the third of the six sons of William and Anne (Annie) Cornish. William was the long serving headmaster of the Luckett Board School and it was in the School House at Luckett that Wilfred lived for all of his life in the UK. His brother, John Adams Cornish, was killed in France in July 1916 and at least two of his brothers also served during the war.

Wilfred joined the Royal Navy when he was 19, enlisting at Devonport on 14th September 1900 and signing on for a 12 year engagement. His entry level was Ship Stewart Assistant (SSA) and his first postings were at a number of shore establishments around Devonport. Throughout his naval career his location alternated regularly between shore establishments and ships. His progress up the ranks culminated in his promotion to Ship’s Stewart (SS) on 9th January 1908, only for him to be demoted to SSA on 31st July 1908 for ‘returning from leave drunk’. He remained at this level until his term of engagement expired on 23rd September 1912.

SS Rotorua

Wilfred emigrated to New Zealand in 1913, leaving Plymouth as a Third Class passenger on the New Zealand Shipping Company’s vessel, SS Rotorua, on 5th July 1913. He had given his occupation as a farmer but, once in New Zealand, he gained employment as a wharf labourer or ‘watersider’ for the United Steamship Company. The Police Court News section of the New Zealand Herald of 6th June 1917 reports that ‘the previous offender Wilfred Arthur Cornish was fined 10s for drunkenness’. Wilfred did not declare this incident when he later applied to join the army.

Report from the New Zealand Herald (June 6th 1917)

On 6th August 1914, shortly after the outbreak of war, Britain accepted New Zealand’s offer of an expeditionary force of approximately 8000 men. When countrywide recruiting for the New Zealand Expeditionary Force’s (NZEF) ‘Main Body’ began on 8th August 1914, the response was overwhelming. In September 1915 Wilfred did try to join the army but was not accepted, being deemed medically unfit due to ‘flat feet (left)’. He was more successful with his second attempt in September 1917 but then only with the rating of C1 ‘likely to become fit for active service after special training’. The special training needed was never specified.

SS Balmoral Castle

He was assigned to the 3rd Reserve Battalion and then travelled to Europe on the SS Balmoral Castle, leaving Wellington on the 24th April 1918, disembarking in London on 21st June. On the same day, he was entered Sling Camp, near Bulford on Salisbury Plain, and remained there until 30th September when his battalion left for France, docking at Etaples on 3rd October. He eventually joined his unit in the field, D Company of the 1st Battalion of the Auckland Regiment, on 8th October 1918. Wilfred’s Company was soon in action and engaged the enemy in and around the town of Le Quesnoy. The Battalion War Diary for 4th November notes: ‘A miserable night but the morning broke fair and fine. At 5.45 a.m. we moved forward, 15 minutes after zero hour........ when crossing the Ruesnes - Le Quesnoy road, an enemy plane came over and immediately after this artillery opened up and heavily shelled the line of advance, but very few casualities were caused’. As there was no other incidents mentioned that day, it is reasonable to conclude that Wilfred killed during this barrage, just 17 days after he landed in the country.

He is buried in Plot I.C.3 in the Ruesnes Communal Cemetery, just to the east of Cambrai and close to the border with Belgium. There are now 84 soldiers who died in November 1918 commemorated there, nine of whom were part of the NZEF.

Wilfred Cornish's headstone in the Ruesnes Communal Cemetery

From correspondence included in Wilfred’s Service Record, it seems that there was some question over monies owing to him by the NZEF. His mother queried the fact that she had not received any War Gratuity. The explanation given was that as Wilfred had made an allotment to his mother of 3s per day from 21st April until his death, this had accounted for all the money owing to him. As a separate event, his father was granted probate of Wilfred’s estate of £60 by the Bodmin Registry Office on 15th December 1919.