vicarage's Journal

5:46am: Pound of flesh
What struck me reading the story of the Peruvians who murdered people to traffic in their fat was that they could get £9000 a litre for it. At those rates liposuckers should pay you, and beer guts should pay for themselves.

I'm in the money!

10:29am: Liam is REALLY old
Good to see lproven on the BBC website talking about computing for the elderly.

8:34pm: Mud
With a car to restock the freezer and beer cupboards on Saturday, I also managed to do the walk up the Otter from Buddleigh Salterton. The river walk and Otterton's poohsticks stream are very pleasant, but the side path was well trodden by cows. I can cope with 2" deep mud, but was defeated by the 4" at a bend. Game of the day, at the end of the shingle bank where the river finally meets the sea, was throwing pebbles across the channel onto an small inclined ledge, alternating the gentle grazing attack with the high embedding lob.

More mud round the west side of the Dartmouth estuary, battling the wind funnelling down the valley, and admiring Dartmouth Castle, which is really a Henrician Device Fort, though oddly split into separate blocks. Bayard's Cove is just a ring shell, and the Kingswear houses climbing the hill across the river look great. The car ferry is ingeneous, a small boat pushing a 6 car barge on 2 ropes, flipping end on end against them to ensure a ro-ro crossing.

Nearby Blackpool Sands is a pretty crescent coarse sand beach, site of a not-at-all famous defeat of a Breton invasion force, just up from Slapton Sands where we didn't see the eclipse, with the tank still there.

6:17pm: Saharan Solar Power
Desertec's plan to provide solar power to Europe is way I think we should solve the energy crisis. 15% of Europe's (electrical?) power needs by 2050, using superheated water to provide power 24 hours a day (solar panels might be better if we could girdle the globe, but I suppose they reckon that steam reservoirs give better continuity of supply inter and intra-day). And at £240bn, its not a small enterprise.

8:14pm: Superlandlord strikes again
Central Heating breaks overnight on Sunday, reported to landlord 8.30 Monday, he comes round with plumber within an hour to diagnose problem, and returns to fix it Tuesday pm, all while I work. I wonder if there's an award I can nominate him for!

5:23pm: Dawlish
I caught the first train out of Pinhoe (ie the 10.40) to Dawlish Warren, the sand spit that closes the Exe Estuary. The entrance is all holiday camp (and railway carriage accommodation, is that where you stayed last year celestialweasel and t__m__i?), but you can soon escape into the usual marram grass. On a falling tide the birds had left the beaches for me to clamber the groynes. A short stretch of coast path along the railway leads to Dawlish, where the track limits the traditional promenade, but the town has responded by converting a stream into a linear park, black swans and all. Weak legs and the horrid remembrance how quickly night falls after the clocks change sent me home again.

5:28pm: Cancelled the car early in the week due to a bad forecast, in both senses, so mobility limited. Managed to write a Wikipedia javascript addon to generate automatic map links from their pages, rather than add {{GeoGroupTemplate}} everywhere, which cheered me, as I know little about javascript or Wikipedia internals.
Caught the bus to Topsham to visit a very good local museum and walk back in blustery sunshine along the east side of the estuary, on a path that clearly floods at high tide, and was rather glutinous.

8:12pm: Twigs forward or back?
Onto the wild west of Dartmoor on Saturday, to visit my tor (though some maps have it as Brat tor, far less flattering). Its got an attractive profile, and a Victorian cross on top, and good views up to High Willhays and down to the south coast. Rather too windy, and my left boot has sprung a leak, but while I was resting and airing it a herd of ponies came past and one had a good sniff of my toes. I think I must pick more varied routes, as a whole day in moorland is a bit repetitive.

Tintagel is a tourist trap, but if you park 1/2 mile away in Bossiney and walk down the charming Rocky Valley you come across the deserted sands of Bossiney Cove. A steep descent, with a much needed rope for the last 20' leads to a great set of caves, winding sandy floors leading deep into the cliff, some connecting, some not. Almost a rival to Bedruthan Steps. Tintagel castle isn't up to much, and knowing in advance that Merlin's Cave goes through the headland spoilt its impact, but its a charming site, with the headland's many buildings revealed by heath fires. The Old Post Office in the village is charming, with its slumped roof draped like a sheet over an airer. Nearby Boscastle has had all the damage from the flood 5 years ago repaired. I went to see the Witchcraft museum, a hugely detailed collection of magic paraphernalia, all with such informative labels that after an hour my head span. It seems early witches rode their broomsticks twigs forward, cats were walled into West Country cottages for luck, voodoo dolls were all too common, and a 'fanny stone' could make a witch a lot of money. Highly recommended.

6:41pm: Windows support scam
I was just called, on my number down here I've given to no-one, by a chap claiming my Windows computer had reported a fault, and he just wanted to help me sort out the problem. He was very persistent, inspite of my calling him a liar multiple times and challenging him to reveal any details of my machine. An obvious scammer, but I've no idea why he tried to convert me for 10 minutes in the face of blatant disbelief.

6:18pm: Alien payoff
The great environmental hope for humanity is renewable energy collected in the wilderness and shipped to cities by high temperature superconductors. So its marvellous news to hear that 3 big US grids are being linked by a 5GW triangular link. But I was amused that one leg goes through Roswell. I suppose with HTCs being alien technology its only fair that we provide power for their project to return home.

8:22am: Regenerative Braking
Why are people getting excited about regenerative braking on commuter trains when I could swear that the then 30 yo stock on the Orpington London run I used to travel to school in the 80s had it. Google isn't helping me, but AKICILJ.

1:15pm: Muppet
I managed to mix up my incoming and outgoing Lovefilm DVDs, and post the wrong one. At least by hanging around the postbox I managed to fast talk to swap them over. Did you know every postbox has a different key, so the poor chap has to carry multiple huge rings of them?

9:30pm: Flying robot cyborg beetles
I love the idea of having remote controlled live beetles doing your bidding!

7:33pm: Buckland Abbey
Blue skies got me out the door, but fog and thick cloud over the Moor diverted me to Buckland Abbey, Francis Drake's house bought with the circumnavigation loot. The house is more museum than most NT places, with pride of place given to Drake's Drum, ready to summon the chap back in times of crisis. The kitchen has 2 huge fireplaces, and 5 more subsidiary ones in a long range, so he'd not be short of nosh. Super tithe barn too.

Aching legs (yes, again) dissuaded me from a longer walk, but I managed a 5 miler up the Plym valley. The route up climbed away from the rushing river on the line of a china clay slurry pipe, with the earthenware sections still embedded in the path. Through the autumnal woods, which glimpses of the Dewerstone cliffs across the valley. I liked the retriever chasing his ball around the river almost as much as my second tasty and large ice cream of the weekend. Incredibly balmy conditions at the top for late September as I followed the other side to the overlook, down an inclined railway trackbed with the granite sets still in place to the base of the rocks to watch the climbers attempt the rocks.

7:07pm: St Austell
After I complained about the Eden Project last time they apologised and sent me a dvd. This time the experience was faultless. Of course the domes were much the same as April, but the outside areas were transformed, massed blubs replaced by such large annuals I kept rubbing my eyes. Lots of local produce being harvested, including the butternut squash, which the canteen at work manage to sneak onto the menu at least twice a week, overflowing super-allotments, and the strains male voice choir to guide me round the dahlias.

The China Clay museum doesn't seem to getting the numbers it should, because it explains the mining and settling process well, and the flat rod mechanism to get the power from the waterwheel hundreds of yards up the hill to the slurry pumps was fascinating, all tunnels and ingenious arcs to get the power to turn corners.

Stent, the coarse quartz sand waste from the mining, has been washed down the rivers, and at Carlyon has formed a beach where developers want to add hotels and a apartment complex. The great debate is whether the sand will stick around, so I wandered the beach fondling the quite varied drifts of coarse and very fine sand. For reference for myself in 20 years, the beach wraps the back third of the rock outcropping.

Fowey has St Catherine's Castle, a very small Device Fort by Henry VIII, with a small Victorian twin RML battery below. I didn't stop in the town, defeated by daft parking rules.

10:39pm: Daredevils
Its interesting watching the first Daredevils programme with a chap with a wing suit tracking down the Matterhorn. Very exciting footage, but no tension, as he came across as completely obnoxious, and I couldn't care if he lived or died.

9:29pm: Lusty walking
With high winds and mixed cloud I thought I'd keep my Dartmoor walking low level, following the Bovey river up secluded Lustleigh Cleave. A river walk followed by a steep climb into a wilderness of rocks leads you to fine views across the valley to Haytor. Along the moor top, then down again to attempt to cross the river at a moss covered jumble of rocks, presumably an old landslip, with the river passing out of sight beneath it. Up out of the valley again, and back into it to follow its banks to the car. About 9 miles, and with all the in and out, a hard but rewarding walk.

Today's Open Garden was the home of driftwood artist Heather Jansch, a steep hillside (sigh!) scattered with fullsize horses and deer formed of bleached driftwood. She has a real eye to the right piece to fit the animals shape, and only close up are the pins, framework and strategic shaving revealed. There were a few pieces in progress, but looking at the jumble in the woodshed I'd no idea how she picks the right wood out.

8:24pm: Penzance
Now the school holidays are over its safe to return to Cornwall. I popped in to Chyauster, a Bronze Age village with perhaps better preserved houses, but without the fascination of Carn Euny's fogou. Clear blue skies over Porthcurno, with its precipitous Minack theatre where my brother has trodden the boards rocks in Kentish Opera productions. With its maze of benches and paths winding down the cliff I've no idea how anyone works out where to sit. I'd been to the Telegraph Museum here before, and while the museum in its WWII tunnels seems unchanged (including its lovely biscuit plug), they've added extra galleries in the main building focussing on cable laying ships, which seem to travel backwards. Down to the beach with its cable hut, with 14 lines leading across the empire, and a rather nice sound interpretation of the induced hum and clicks in the defunct cables as lighting strikes and whales swim past. And the triple-coved beach is truly a stunner.

Nearby Lands End has been despoiled by tacky tourist tat, but if you walk the mile or so from Sennen Cove you can avoid most of it. The famous signpost is there, but the on-site photographer takes all the boards down when he goes home. You'd expect to stare out across the endless Atlantic, but oddly the Scilies, 30 miles away, loom pretty large across much of the horizon, so much of the effect is lost.

A mining Sunday, starting with Geevor, a tin mine finally closed in 1990. A bit of a mixed bag, as the museum and half the buildings were superbly presented, especially the Dry, the changing rooms with the miners clothes still hung on pegs as if they'd just gone on shift. But the extraction plant felt rather dead, with gaps where machinery had been sold off, and only a single shaking table in action, with none of the novelty of King Edwards Mine's buddles, and streaming tipping thingys. And the underground tour was very feeble, though the guide's reminiscences of his time below were great.

At nearby Levant the NT keep the beam engine still pumping on steam, and with faultless weather the scenery has the classic wheelhouses poised over crashing waves at the base of the cliffs. An unexpected delight just beyond Pendeen lighthouse is the tiniest of harbours, just room for 3 dinghies pulled up on hardstanding.

8:04pm: Aching
I've started playing badminton again, after a 4 year gap, at a local club 10 minutes walk away. I played on Wednesday, and God how I ached on Thursday. I shambled to work and could hardly stir from my chair for a cup of coffee. The legs recovered, then the arm went on Friday, before I hit the feet again with Navy days on Saturday. It seems I can walk 10 miles in a day, each Saturday and Sunday, but at the expense of aching, and don't get the fitness midweek to shrug it off. Getting old I suppose, and I've no idea how 47yo Eddie Izzard managed all those marathons.

7:52pm: Navy Days
Three trains, each with 2 minute connections got me to Devonport for the Navy Days. Somewhat confusing, but I managed to visit every ship bar Daring, where I spurned the queues until too late in the day, delayed chatting to officers on the Mersey, fishing patrol boat, and Roebuck, survey ship. The size of HMS Ocean and Bulwark is impressive, but I did make the faux pas of asking a technical question about Royal Marine artillery support to a likely chap who turned out to be a dental hygienist. He claimed to not be at the sharp end, but I'm not so sure....

The dockyard has been oddly divided into military and commercial areas, with a ribbon of naval access along the waterfront, though the high wire fences do spoil the views of the river where the SBS did their mock attacks on pirate tugs while marines abseiled from helicopters above. Gawd knows how marines manages to yomp with full bergens and mortars. A good day out.

7:11pm: Hod, hod, hod
National Nosey Parker days have come round again, and spurning the car on a lovely weekend I set off on by bike across Exeter. 2 hours touring Devon County Council may not be your idea of fun, but the guides were good, and the building, while solidly 1950s had some charm. Built in austerity conditions, they still had a grand set of formal chambers, but rather less of the flamboyant self promotion of a US State Capitol, with little focus on county rocks, flowers and the like. Its clock tower, though stumpy, makes the Georgian house look like a dolls house, goodness knows why they didn't put it in the middle of the range. Given the period, I asked about the nuclear bunker, but they just had a planning room on site.

Rougemont castle fell rather flat, though its encircling gardens were an unexpected delight. The Underground passages are good fun, cut-and cover conduits for water pipes, and thankfully rather larger than the Cu Chi ones. Cricklepit Mill was followed by St Nicholas Priory, where they've painted the wood paneling in bright geometric patterns. I'll never think of Tudor paneling as dull again.

Tucker's Hall was a gem, with a genuine beadle explaining the Weavers, Tuckers (fullers) and Shearers guild, complete with some weapons they found hidden in the roof from the Civil War, just in case. The other half of the Priory was nothing special, but I got a warm welcome in the Synagogue, a very unstuffy group. It was rather a shock to see my landlord at Poltimore House, but he's a trustee rather than a purchaser of this dilapidated Georgian house. Still not enough water to run Killerton Mill properly.

8:27am: All the nines
Remember folks, it will be 09:09:09 09/09/09 soon.

11:05pm: Yesterday's Farming, Shute Barton
Yesterday's Farming near Illminster had more vintage tractors that the mind can easily handle, with a 90 minute parade round the show ring with a commentary from an tractor expert who knew more about tractors that I know about anything, anything at all.

I escaped to admire the painted seats, critique the ploughing competition, stuff myself with pastie seconds, watch logs sawed by steam and wheat threshed by accolytes gathered round the great machine. Pumping engines pumped out fumes to poison you, and traffic crawled by on the the A303.

This time I made it to Shute Barton with plenty of time, with its grand gatehouse, flanked by 2 (1980's) towers it seemed odd to only find part of a house inside, as the rest had been razed by Cromwell. At least he'd left the 24' fireplace, the biggest in England. Nearby the Loughwood Meeting House had thatched charm, built on the county border so the baptist preacher could escape his persecutors.

11:36am: US plan to charge for visa waiver scheme
William Delahunt (rhyming slang) wants to charge for the visa waiver scheme to fund a scheme to encourage travel to the US. What a jolly good idea, get people to pay for all those ads extolling the majesty of your country, and the extra cost won't dissuade them at all, oh no. And the EU can then retaliate with visas for US citizens, so we can all become more insular.

4:50am: Fastest kettle in the west
Good luck to the members of the British steam car challenge, preparing in Mojave. Its interesting that the 100yo record for a car, at 127mph, is almost identical to Mallard's 125 mph for a train. So perhaps the Tornado team can build something to recapture the record for the honour of the railways.