It's quite posh and yachty in Fowey - lots of shops like Fat Face, Se7en and Moshulu, but a bit of a struggle to find bread and milk when we ran out. I could've bought any number of patchwork quilts or appliqued cushions, though. Probably for the best - the absence of takeaway food meant there was no litter or thuggish seagulls hanging around. There were pastel-painted fishermen's cottages, flowers that tumbled over walls (I had no idea rosemary could be so tumbly) and narrow roads with hardly any cars.
Here's Polridmouth Beach where (spoiler!) Max shot Rebecca. We've been here before, but it's one of my favourite beaches - very wild and tangly - so I made everyone come back again. This time we discovered some very rusty bits of a shipwreck which interested the boys far more than all my talk of Manderley and Maxim.
Didn't realise til I saw the photos that Polridmouth kind of looks like 'Junkyard-on-Sea' if you're not viewing it with your Daphne du Maurier spectacles on!
I also made everyone visit Llanhydrock, since I'd studied lots of photos of its rooms while I was writing my historical chapters. Unluckily, our arrival coincided with that of a coachload of German tourists and there was just no getting away from them. All the narrow passages were jammed with bodies, every roped-off room was blocked from view by the unbudging heads and backs of a double row of sightseers and we were pretty much carried upstairs or downstairs by the German current. Which was a shame, because I now find that I don't remember much of the house - apart from the terrifying crush and trying not to lose the boys.
The gardens were better. There were bluebell woods, formal borders and an adventure play ground. It was exactly the right time of year to see rhododendrons, camellias and magnolias - and I'm now satisfied that I've seen every variety of the three in existence!
Even the gardens of Carnethic House (where we stayed) were award winning.
Before we went to Fowey, I was excited about the bluebells, magnolias and camellias in my own garden. I even took a few photos and planned a Springtime blog, but when I got home yesterday, I found myself...underwhelmed. I mowed the lawn and tidied up a bit, but I think I'm going to have to wait for the effects of Llanhydrock and Carnethic to wear off a bit before I can appreciate my own (small and scruffy) garden again!
Husband loves a 16th century pub - and last week, we had to visit several. He says it's a history lesson for the boys and - well, a pub! Perfect combination - rusty anchors and Doombar ale ahoy!
(I'm a bit sceptical about all these 16th century claims, to be honest. Granted these pubs all have have low ceilings, wonky walls and a curious smell, but the 16th century was a really long time ago, you know? A few weeks ago, husband led us all into a pub that claimed to be Saxon. Saxon! I thought all the buildings were made of sticks back then. And that they'd all been burned down by the vikings. But no, apparently the vikings knew better than to mess with the pubs *sigh*)
Turns out that what oldest son loves is a car ferry. He took this photo of the Fowey to Bodinnick ferry and made us ride on it several times. I found it EXTREMELY NOISY!
It docks next to Ferryside, of course, which is another of the many houses, buildings and beaches associated with Dame Daphne.
While I was there, I saw lots of signs for the Fowey Festival which starts next week and which - interestingly - has just changed its name from the Daphne du Maurier Festival.
The Daphne du Maurier website has this to say...
'The organising committee have changed the name of the festival to the "Fowey Festival of Words & Music", in a pointless and misguided attempt to give the festival a 'more widespread appeal'. Quite how the exclusion of the name of probably the most popular author of the 20th century will help, is not clear. We will continue to call it "The Daphne du Maurier Festival of Arts & Literature" because that is what it is!'
Wooooo! I love how cross they sound. And they're going to keep calling it by the old name because...that'll show them. Don't mess with those Daphne fans! But wait - there's more..
'To illustrate this foolishness, a search on Google for 'du Maurier Festival' returns over 509,000 entries, whereas a search for 'Fowey Festival' returns a mere 130,000 - most of these being for the Fowey Regatta!'
And yet this illustration suggested a more subversive search and instead I found myself Googling the question, "Is Daphne du Maurier really the most popular author of the 20th century?"
And Wikipedia said "No."
"Ok, so is she probably the most popular author of the 20th century?"
"No," said Wikipedia. "Look - she's not even on our list."
Husband guessed that JK Rowling was the most popular author of the 20th century - and she was indeed on Wikipedia's list having sold somewhere between 350-450 million books. But the author who's sold most is Agatha Christie with between 2-4 billion sales. Phew!
(Naturally, I'm considering sending an email to the du Maurier website with the suggestion they change their name to AgathaChristie.com for a more widespread appeal. Hee hee.)
Although I had a lovely time in Fowey and none of us wanted to come home, I've been noticing lots of little things that are making me glad to be back (in the manner of an old person). I'd forgotten how bright my duvet cover is - it's really red. Whereas Carnethic house was stylishly - relentlessly - beige. I'd forgotten I'd bought new towels before we left - so it's like having new towels all over again! I'd forgotten we put the dining room table in a slightly different place for husband's fortieth birthday party - I like it there! I'm obviously the sort of curmudgeonly, unadventurous old person who likes the taste of my own particular tap water and the shape of my own particular coffee mug.
Of course, the downside of all that is that I now have to go and do six loads of (sandy and chloriney) washing. And ironing...phooey!