What, no pilchards? | Adverse Camber

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What, no pilchards?

Tue 24th Sep 2013

Hunting the Giant's Daughter

It was after we set up our shiny new backdrops on their new super light-weight  bases in Perranporth Memorial Hall that we realised that we hadn’t actually done the show for nearly a year! After a quick run of the rusty bits we were as ready as we ever would be and before long the Twrch Trwyth came blinking out into the light, realised where he was and set off on his usual rampage of terror and destruction with us and the audience hanging on tight.

Interesting things started to happen with the blending of musical and vocal cadences which it will be fun to play with later in the tour and this was the show where Cai decided that he would like more attention before making his early departure. I wonder what he’ll get up to next time.

We had a lovely attentive audience and it was good to see some old friends amongst them Many thanks to Tom and Barbara Tremewan for their warm welcome and hosting of the evening – on top of everything else they are also help run the great little Perranzabuloe Museum http://www.perranzabuloemuseum.co.uk/index.html   Well worth a visit.

Being in Cornwall our main worry about the storywalk the next morning was the weather but St Piran blessed us with a weird mixture of mist and warmth. We met at the millennium sun dial and started our adventure with a welcome from Tom in Cornish.

We walked down what had been a tunnel for launching boats (the roof had caved in long ago) and onto the beach over rocks encrusted by mussels. Stories and songs of the sea, mermaids, sailors and saints interspersed by a fascinating commentary from Tom who showed us the old industrial heritage of the place – lodes of tin, the place in the rocks where a huge water wheel once span and holes in the cliffs that revealed the water courses where he had played as a kid.

Then it was along the beach, which now boasts surfers instead of pilchards, and off to the Watering Hole where the sun finally shone on us as we tucked into a Sunday roast.

Michael Harvey

 

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