Millbrook village, bees and Grenfell's anniversary

My sister Sarah has found an amazing place to live. It is in Cornwall – just - on what is called the Rame peninsula.  Devon lies across the wide Tamar river and you can gaze across at the naval metropolis of Plymouth. with its warships and tall buildings. Sarah points out three proud towers, clean and white with contrasting bands of primary colours.  It is just a year since the terrible Grenfell Tower fire in London.  “That’s the same cladding” says Sarah. “It’s got to come off” I wonder how the residents sleep at night especiallynow as the heartrending  programs go to air on this tragic anniversary but apparently there are ferocious fire precautions in place and much better ways of escaping.

 On this side however Millbrook village is all drystone walls  and little cottages and hedgerows full of foxgloves and meadowsweet.  One curious thing though; about mid morning there is a distant rattatat of gunfire as the naval recruits train on a range nearby.

Sarah takes me on a tour of the village and we buy strawberries and bread and clotted cream, spreading our purchases around the few shops, each of which is a cornucopia of gourmet items amongst which I see pickled winkles and Cornish new potatoes alongside old fashioned Bisto powder for thickening your gravy.

Sarah is especially proud of the Rame Centre which is tiny and staffed by volunteers (including her) and manages to combine a tiny library, a twice weekly post office, a credit union, an Internet cafe, an outlet for local art and craft and a grape vine bearing useful information about where everyone is.  We want to see the house Sarah is hoping to buy and need the key from the estate agent. “Oh, he’s going to a funeral this afternoon but you might just catch him…”

We go to a black bee apiary where I learn that there’s actually no need to find and kill an ageing queen before installing a new one because the bees themselves deal with the problem and I hear about treatment for the verroa mite which England has but not yet Australia.  I foolishly leave my handbag behind there with my passport in  it and Sarah calls me a wally and drives me back to get it.  I say “Praise bee” to the apiarist

but he doesn’t laugh.

On Saturday we are going to the village hall and today we are going up the bell tower where Sarah is learning to ring the changes.  She says its good for the tummy muscles. Rather her than me.

Backtracking a bit to Malvern.  Before we left we had arranged to meet brother Michael for a meal at The Cottage in the Woods,  known for its marvelous views of the three counties that stretch out below the Malvern Hills.  I’d been there before with mum and the food, though expensive had been top class and matched the crisp quality of the starched napkins and salubrious air. We wanted something special because the three of us had not met for years. The napkins etc were just as was, but the food  was pretentious and awful. We didn’t really mind as we were there to talk but even talking , it turned out, was problematic.  Michael told us afterwards that a gentleman at the next table had leaned over to him “Keep it down a bit” he’d said. I wish I’d heard so I could have been very rude to him.  There is nothing worse than a place so up itself and inhospitable.

I was sad to say goodbye to my dear friend Judy and have learnt now not to refer to the probability of never meeting again. Anyway who knows.