Dear Kerensa

In this damp,  gloomy period that is laughingly referred to as summer, one dry day allowed Rob Andrews to celebrate his 60th birthday in style.

Although the day dawned with yet more rain, by the time the lavish festivities commenced, the day was dry and bright and the ladies attending the afternoon garden party themed aspect of the day could allow themselves the luxury of wearing their summer finery (albeit with a sturdy cardigan draped over their shoulders) . Traditional cream teas with ‘lashings’ of cream and jam were consumed by all (with considerable debate as to whether it should be cream topped by jam or vice versa)  but many chose to eschew the traditional cup of tea in favour of a more summery Pimm’s.

Rob’s garden was a joy as ever with a variety of marquees, tents and gazebos provided to shelter the throngs from the vagaries of the British climate. One part of the garden was, as usual, set aside as a temporary campsite, mostly for the Winchester contingent of visitors whose pilgrimage to Tremarrick is now something of a tradition.

An undoubted star of the festivities was young Grace, daughter of Ed Davies. Grace flitted around the garden in her fairy outfit complete with it’s gossamer wings bringing a smile to the faces of all. Another star was Molly, Bill’s dog who enjoyed this different environment and all the new people to meet.

As afternoon drited towards evening there was a constant ebbing and flowing of people through the gardens and that gentle background hum of conversation, occasional laughter and the tinkling of glasses as more and more alcohol was consumed.

The arrival of the band meant a slight diruption of the calm as able-bodied men folk were rounded up to transport the equipment from the gate, across the garden to the stage area in the large marquee. One might have been forgiven for believing that we were to be entertained by one of the famous popular music combos from the volume of equipment that arrived and had to be manually transported, but apparently any group of musicians worth their salt  these days requires at least a ton of equipment to perform. 

It was at this point in the proceedings that Rob had a significant birthday gift presented to him by the chums. Jilly had commisioned a beautiful piece of stained glass from Mahmood to replace the rather ordinary pane in Rob’s front door. The chums all chipped in and the resulting work is quite spectacular and will provide a splendid memory of this birthday for years to come.

Whilst the band were setting up and doing their sound tests, dinner was served. Now, anyone else might well decide that an outdoor gathering in July was an ideal opprtunity for a barbecue…not our party organisers, who in full appreciation of the climate, had arranged a curry night with a selection of home produced curries all of which were very tasy and enjoyed by all.

Feeling comfortably full after their dinner, the party-goers sat back and appreciated the band. Some more energetic souls did get up and dance in front of the marquee, but most people were either happy just to sit back and listen, or too inebriated to be able to risk leaving their seats. The music played was not necessarily entirely to my taste, but it was Rob’s party and he had chosen what he wanted and where I was sitting the volume, though loud, was not overpowering and thus not unpleasant.

However, it appears that a complaint was made and were it not for a shortage of personnel and a more pressing engagement to defuse an altercation in town the boys (or in this case) girl in blue might have arrived and closed the party down. As it was, there was only a police presence some time after the band had stopped playing and the gear was being loaded back into the trailer. The lady police officer opined that it didn’t sound too noisy to her, but Bob Coin, obviously a bit miffed at not being collared for noise pollution, told her that it had been much louder earlier. She left satisfied that we were not apparently any threat to the rule of law in Cornwall.

The party continued well into the early hours, though I had long since left. Everyone enjoyed themselves and all were very appreciative of Rob having invited them to help celebrate his birthday.

The clear up in the driving rain of the following day was enjoyable too, though in a different way and ended with the chums enjoying the left over curry in a very convivial lunch round Rob’s kitchen table.

It was also decided that since the tents could not reasonably be dismantled in the pouring rain, that they should remain and Mahmood Beginmanoor’s birthday party on the following Saturday should also take place in Rob’s garden…this time with a barbecue!  More on this next time.

Regards

Your Brother, Denzil

Dear Kerensa

Sister dear, enough is decidedly enough!

Over the past few months my patience has been sorely tried by your regular telephone calls (often in the middle of the night) DEMANDING that I do something about your situation…which you know full well would be impossible for me to do even if I wished to do so.

It is not my fault that the Immigration authorities raided your home and carted Imelda off as an illegal immigrant. It is not my fault that she has subsequently been deported back to the Philippines. It is not my fault that whilst she was living with you she syphoned off large sums from your bank account and sent them abroad. It is not my fault that you are refusing to take the medication your doctor has prescribed for you to help you through this undoubtedly difficult time.

So, since none of this is my fault, I do feel aggrieved that I should be the target of so much of your ire. I have tried to stand by you throughout this saga, but it, and you, have taken over my life entirely and I’m afraid that is just not fair and I’m drawing a line under the whole sorry affair.

I shall not be paying any more of your fines incurred by chaining yourself outside the Immigration Department offices and hurling abuse at any official who passes you, nor shall I be paying the lawyer’s fees if there are any more court cases for assaults on same. I shall not be travelling up to Holloway Prison if you are obliged to serve any more time at Her Majesty’s Pleasure and I definitely have no intention of looking after Tinkerbelle your psychotic Bull Mastif again (have you any idea how much it costs to redecorate the entire ground floor and replace all the furniture she ruined?)

Any calls from you are now blocked on my phones. I have installed CCTV outside the house and a new alarm system should you try and visit without warning.

However, you are still my sister and of course I care about you and I want to keep you abreast of things that happen here in Tremarrick in the real world, so I shall resume sending you these emails in the hope that at some future date more normal relations can exist between us again.

I shall say no more for the time being.  Apart from anything else, the social event of the season, Rob Andrews’ 60th birthday bash is going to kick off shortly and I still have a mountain of things to.

PLEASE keep taking the medication and try your best to look forward rather than back to the events of the recent past.

I shall tell you all about Rob’s party and other bits and pieces I may have missed about what’s been happening round these parts in the next day or so.

Your (long suffering) Brother

Denzil

Dear Kerensa,

Hope you and Imelda are well.

February arrived …and then came the snow! Tremarrick really didn’t know what had hit it when on the evening of the 2nd, snow began falling, and kept on falling. It was snowing when I went to bed and even though it had stopped when I got up in the morning, it soon started again. Some of us were lucky enough not to have to get anywhere but there were a couple of poor souls who were seriously caught out.

The sad case of Cameron was the most spectacular disaster! Having been in the market to buy a replacement car, Cameron had seen just what he was after on Ebay. The only problem being that this car was up in the Midlands somewhere. But, because Cameron was taking a week’s holiday from the first of the month, he was looking forward to a pleasant journey up on the train followed by a leisurely drive back in his new motor. So, on Sunday, Cameron picked up his car (not without some difficulties apparently but I don’t know the details) and started back on the motorway. Within an hour he was on the side of the road with a seized engine having to call a recovery vehicle to his assistance. He was towed to some hotel and obliged to pay some exorbitant fee for the privilege. With no chance of getting home he booked into the hotel for the night. Then of course the snow came and he was stranded, spending a second night in the hotel and having to fork out for RAC membership so that, eventually, he could get his wreck back home. Now, to my mind there seem to be several morals to this story: never buy a car off Ebay if it’s more than ten miles away, always check everything is in good order before setting off on a long journey, cough up for membership of a recovery organisation before you desperately need them, and never underestimate the British climate’s ability to cock up all your plans! Had he bought a car locally, he’d have probably spent less than his final bill for all his galivanting around the country. And what is he left with?…a wreck languishing at the end of the pub car park which will require yet more money being spent on it to get it on the road. Poor old Cameron…whilst there was considerable sympathy for his sad plight, there were some wry smiles at how and why he’d allowed himself to get into this predicament in the first place.

Patrick drove through a blizzard for hours only to find his place of work was shut, so he had to do the journey all over again in reverse and Jilly, struggled out with her van, found farm tracks impassable, so returned home again.

After the blizzard had ended, Tremarrick was bathed in sunshine and Nick Olderby climbed the church tower to take some splendid snaps of the village in its mantle of white.

By lunchtime when everyone was gathering in the pub to talk snow, the situation was improving and traffic was getting in and out of the village again. We thought that that was that on the snow front and life would be back to normal very soon. And indeed, Wednesday and Thursday, everything was pretty much back to normal with most of the snow melted and just a few icey patches here and there to worry about.

It was late on Thursday evening, just as I was going to bed that I noticed it was snowing. Big, heavy flakes falling vertically. On Friday morning the spectacle as I drew back the curtains was eerily magnificent. There was much more snow than earlier in the week and absolutely nothing was moving in the village…we were completely cut off.

By 8.30am I had already seen my first snowman of the day and witnessed a vicious snowball fight…and this before the children were even out and about! During the morning, the youngsters in the village worked together to produce a giant snowman (he must have been at least 12 feet tall) and it was wonderful to see yet again, the village coming together in this spontaneous, collective act.

On Saturday I had been invited to a ‘repeat’ of Christmas at Rob’s..(Jilly had a spare turkey in her freezer and wanted to release the space it took up). Unfortunately, I was unable to attend the meal, but did pop along later just in time to see all the photos that had been taken of the pantomime. I think it was mostly Fatima who had taken them and they are quite splendid. I really must try and get along to the show itself next year!

Well, the snow has all gone now and maybe Spring is just around the corner. There’s not too much more to report at the moment apart from young Tristan Olderby reaching his 18th. When I saw him on the evening of his birthday he was looking as though he was enjoying himself, but he took himself off to bed at a fairly early hour…leaving his parents to carry on drinking at the pub. Apparently young Tristan had some real adventures on the weekend after his birthday, but I’ve not heard the gory details as yet. Also there has been an expedition to Scotland by some of the more mature fellows, but somehow I imagine their behaviour was remarkably similar to that of the teenagers! Whether I shall find out what happened, we shall have to wait and see.

Regards

Denzil

Dear Kerensa

The second Saturday in January saw two distinct events in Tremarrick. Both took place separately initially, but almost inevitably, collided late in the evening in the Fletchers!

It was the dress rehearsal of the the village pantomime. This took place in the Village Hall, and satisfied that performances would entertain their audiences the following week, a significant number of the company and crew gathered in the pub.

This day was also Jayne Olderby’s birthday and after a family outing for a meal, Jayne and Nick popped into the pub on their return to the village.

Now I’m a great believer in spontaneity, and given the right people at the right time in the right place, the outcome can be, well, interesting at the very least! This evening proved this entirely!

Spirited doesn’t do the evening justice as a description (though Jayne using sparkling wine as a mixer with her gin did certainly involve a quantity of spirit!) It’s been a while since I’ve seen a pub so filled with laughter and singing without there being some particular celebration. A wonderful evening was had by all and I believe there were some particularly sore heads the following morning.

And so we come to the pantomime. Five nights of packed houses and great entertainment, but of course, I left it until the last minute, and couldn’t get a ticket!, so any comments will be just what I’ve heard and I’m not going to be able to comment on every individual’s performance, just a few highlights .

Particularly ‘outstanding’ were the Madonna style, pointed breasts of the beautifully coutured and coiffured Dame played by Simon Smith. It was his first shot at Dame and on the basis of this performance, unlikely to be his last. Young Tom, his son was also excellent and performed a brilliant solo song to boot.

Costumes generally were deemed to have been outstanding and all credit to those who created them. The witches were apparently, particularly resplendant and the wizard character eventhough smothered by a wig and beard so thick as to muffle every sound in normal conditions, might have been heard over in South Valley.

There was apparently a ’synchronised swimming’ sequence (quite how this might figure in any pantomime is beyond me) which caused great merriment as did the Jesters who narrated the piece it seems. The youngsters were all highly polished in their performances and although there had apparently been major doubts about Andy, the Postmaster, in true theatrical manner he was alright on the night(s)!

According to Lucinda’s sister for one, she has seen professional productions which were of far inferior quality to our little show here. So, shame I missed it…maybe I’ll get my act (no pun intended) in gear in time for next year’s performance. But Jilly and her team both on and off stage have really managed to produce a show which has gone down a storm and congratulations are certainly due to them all for lightening the winter gloom with their fantastic show. 

During the week of the show, the other major topic of discussion was Jilly leaving her job and moving away from the village and the consequent availability of her house for rental. Long before Jilly herself had any input, it had been decided by committee in the pub that Dan and Kirsty who live in rented accommodation just across the road from the Fletchers were the obvious choice of tennants…fortunately Jilly agreed! The Cheshire Cat grin on Dan’s face when he was seen in the pub after there had actually been some discussion between the interested parties themselves, was a sight to be seen. Admittedly this was at the party after the last night of the pantomime and he, like everyone else present, had perhaps had more units of alcohol than recommended by the health authorities. Dan and Kirsty had wanted to buy Jilly’s house before she did, so they’re finally going to live there after all. Don’t you just love a happy ending?

The end of pantomime party in itself was just as you might expect…an exuberant affair in a packed pub. Singing, dancing…even some synchronised swimming! You can probably imagine the state of some people when they finally left without me going into any detail.

Cornish charities will shortly be receiving some generous donations as a result of the pantomime and in these difficult times it is heartening to know that in Tremarrick the generosity of the people is as great as ever.

So now, here we are, post-pantomime with nothing particular to look forward to other than more of this cold winter. More nights curled up in front of the fire waiting for the first signs of Spring!

One other little charitable event has taken place in the last couple of weeks. Two youngsters in the village decided to do a job swap for a day. So young Tracey swapped the salon for the building site…and proved herself more adept at driving a mini digger than one of her male colleagues`and young Josh spent a day at the hairdresser’s washing and blow-drying. Both seem to have thoroughly enjoyed their day and Josh in particular was rabbiting on about his day in the pub the other day. Of course the sexuality of men who are ladies hairdressers was raised and Cameron stated forcefully that he ‘knew for a fact that they were gay’….quite how he knows such a thing was not established, but allows for all sorts of fanciful speculation!

Oh and speaking of Cameron, he’s installed a juke box in the pub! Well, you know how I feel about those things in country pubs! But, I had to laugh, when going into the pub a few days later I was told that the juke box had been broken…by Cameron!

The local school has been inspected and although the official information won’t be released for a while, it seems that all went well and that the school should come out with a good report. Nice to know that the youngsters here are being given a good start in life.

Right, I think that’s brought you pretty much up to speed with what’s going on down here. One of my New Year resolutions is to try and write something here on a more regular basis than has been the case recently!

Look after yourself and keep warm! Best wishes to Imelda.

Regards

Denzil

Dear Kerensa

Well the period between Christmas and New Year is always a tremedously confusing one, and this being Tremarrick, even more so! No-one knows what day of the week it is and round here there’s quite a few who don’t even know who they are!

There was a whole day of respite between the Christmas festivities and the next ‘event’…the  traditional Andrews Christmas Party. Everyone was there and due to the coldness of the weather there was a very cosy atmosphere with no-one venturing too far from the fire!

More food and drink! However, not too many braved the disco area in the still semi-built part of Rob’s house to work off some of those extra calories.

Talk now inevitably turned to the next major event in the Tremarrick calendar…the pantomime! I’ve heard different reports on the rehearsals for this extravaganza ranging from ’shambles’ to ‘outstanding’. Well, the proof of the pudding, as they say, is in the eating…and only a couple of weeks until Tremarrick can decide whether it is being poisoned or enjoying a sumptuous feast!

A significant number of cast members were present and they remained tight-lipped as to what was to come; all they were prepared to admit was that there were some items which would certainly be a surprise to the audience!

After Rob’s party, the next few days passed quietly until New Year’s Eve when it was the turn of the Olderby’s to offer great hospitality, food and drink to a happy crowd. Perhaps regrettably, young Abbie had assembled a group of her friends at the house prior to their going off to some function. These friends largely consisted of scantily clad young ladies who kept passing through the dining area and had an almost apoplectic event on the older males gathered! Poor Bill dared venture into the room where these youngsters were gathered and returned looking rather hot under the collar and visibly much redder!

Later in the evening, as per usual, there was the stroll from the Olderby’s down to the Fletcher’s where the Heroes and Villains party was in full swing in anticipation of the witching hour. Cameron had gone to great trouble to get his Batman costume but was certainly regretting his decision by this time of the night…being a one piece costume, quickly popping out to the loo was an impossibility…an entire team of dressers would have been required to extricate him from this second skin! So, with this opprtunity of relief being denied him, the only option was to avoid consumption of fluids! Pub landlord….New Year’s Eve….not able to drink….pure purgatory! 

Come the midnight hour, the pub emptied to form a large (rather irregular) circle outside for the traditional singing of Auld Lang Syne and Sterling set off a couple of spectacular fireworks  which filled the sky with bright stars whilst everyone kissed/shook hands as appropriate. Then it was back inside for more drinking and carousing until the early hours to the background of Rob’s splendid Disco.

You must forgive me if I cannot remember too many details of what may have ensued during this time, but it was New Year!

Fortunately for him, I don’t think Patrick overindulged during the evening as he still had the final event of the Christmas Safari to host on the evening of New Year’s Day. Inevitably, the revelries of the previous week were taking their toll by this time and this event was a fairly quiet, subdued event. However, Patrick had not counted on the naturally inquisitive nature of the women folk of Tremarrick who had been itching to get a peek at the interior of his house for the previous two years and once they were fortified by drink, demanded the Grand Tour. How Patrick wished he’d spring cleaned prior to this visit! However, apparently, apart from a bit more dust than there should have been, there was nothing too embarrassing for the ladies to discover!

Unsurprisingly after the rigours of the previous week, the evening ended at a perfectly respectable hour and finally concluded the Christmas Safari! An altogether brilliant concept, though perhaps overly ambitious in it’s scope if all the elements were indeed to be completed in a single day!

So now there is 2009 to look forward to. Beyond the boundaries of Tremarrick, all appears to be Doom and Gloom. What the year may hold for the village is a mystery, but I’m sure that we will do all we can to enjoy the year and our life here.

Happy New Year to you and Imelda. Perhaps 2009 will be the year for you to return here, however briefly?

Regards

Denzil

Dear Kerensa

‘Just need to pop off for a while’! Who was I kidding?! Work is a swine isn’t it? Keeps one from doing all the important things in life.

So, where was I? Ah yes… Boxing Day dawned as one of those absolutely perfect winter days. Bright sunshine from a clear blue, cloudless sky. Providing you could avoid the keen east wind, it was just about everyone’s ideal day.

At an entirely un-Godly hour of the morning, the Bursaries sent texts winging through the ether to inform various parties that the planned Boxing Day festivities were a goer….namely, everyone gathering on the beach for a barbecue. Now, were we living in the Antipodes, this would be entirely reasonable…but in the Northern Hemisphere in the midst of Winter? Surely, pure folly?!

So, the Tremarrick Trekkers set of beachward. They were initially met by a car park crammed full of vehicles (and a council official ensuring everyone paid the appropriate car parking fee…so much for the generosity of officialdom at this Season of Giving!). The beach was similarly full of people enjoying the glorious, though bracing weather. The Trekkers soon spied the venue for their Boxing Day festivities…a large green ex-military tent, complete with smoke stack which was belching smoke, indicating at least that the wood burner was fully operational. Lucinda was already hard at work at her barbecue outside the tent, armed with a glass full of warming punch. Unfortunately, at this stage smoke was belching through the interior of the tent as well as through the chimney, but with more bodies now available, it was possible to raise the wood burner onto some conveniently movable rocks and improve the internal atmosphere so that it was more suitable for human habitation.

And so the wholly surreal experience unfolded:sitting on sunloungers in a tent on a beach in December with burgers and warming punch watching the world go by. There were surfers to be seen on the foaming waves of the Atlantic and every other person walking on the beach seemed to be accompanied by a dog (many of which were inevitably attracted to the encampment by the odours of freshly cooked meat and Jilly Andrews was tempted to kidnap most of them!)

The Coins came armed with a kite which flew wonderfully in the keen breeze until friends of theirs arrived and interest in kite flying vanished, leaving young Betty Bursary and Patrick to spend a frustrating time winding in the line.

Overall, it has to be said that very little of note actually happened during the day, which was of course the whole beauty of the day….entirely relaxing with a group of chums simply eating, drinking, chatting and generally enjoying themselves.

With the incoming tide of late afternoon, the youngest Bursary had to do what people of that age always have to do at the beach…go paddling and be caught by a larger wave than was anticipated, resulting in severe dampness to his nether regions…not ideal in sub-zero temperatures with no change of clothing available!

With dusk approaching, the encampment was dismantled in a remarkably brief amount of time and everything transported off the beach to the Bursaries trailer. Just as this task was completed, Sven the Swede arrived to join the party! Brilliant timing!

With the remainder of the Christmas Day Safari still to be completed, the Tremarrick Trekkers, still accepted a kind invitation from the Bursaries to pop in to their place in Lynstone en route home, and so with the blood red sun setting over the ocean the convoy set off to yet another venue.

So, with a cuppa to warm them chez Bursary, the indefatigable Trekkers were about to wend their way home when it appeared that disaster had struck with a collision between two stationary vehicles! Davina was entirely convinced that Sven the Swede’s car had rolled UPHILL to hit her car and took a deal of convincing that the her car rolling down the hill was the far more likely cause! Fortunately there was no damage and with much hilarity at Davina’s poor grasp of gravity, Tremarrick was reached in the early evening ready for another evening of hedonistic pleasures.

So after a brief pause to catch their breath, the Trekkers re-assembled at the Coin’s house. Davina was not having a good day…her chocolate fountain resisted all efforts to encourage it to perform it’s sole purpose in life and it was very late in the evening before the merest drizzle of chocolate started to gurgle reluctantly from this device. However, with a perfectly splendid assortment of other delicacies to assail their palates, the Coins did the Trekkers proud, though it was slightly disconcerting having Mahmoud Beginmanoor, encouraged by Fatima, employing his new camera and taking pictures of every morsel being consumed by everyone.

By mid evening, it became fairly obvious that there was no way that the entire Safari was likely to be completed this evening, so negotiations were opened on everyone’s availability over the rest of the holiday period and it was decided that that the visit to Patrick’s house would now be postponed until New Year’s Day. The whole Safari which had been scheduled to be completed on Christmas day would actually last for 8 days!

Ensconced in the cosy atmosphere of the Coin’s living room, Jilly regaled everyone with another of her Christmas tales with contributions from the assembled company and there was much mirth and hilarity.

With everyone gorged on food and drink and the evening drawing to a close, it was realised that one promised activity had yet to occur. Little paper, hot air baloons purchased at Glastonbury earlier in the year were to have been sent aloft but thus far, this had not happened, so everyone adjourned to the street to ceremoniously witness the ascent. Now, how a major conflagration was avoided in the middle of the village I’m not quite sure, for no sooner lit and rising up, the paper baloon caught fire and came down in flames which everyone rushed to stamp out with loud shouts and curses. It was a pity that the evening concluded with such disappointment, for the whole day had been one of joy, vitality and general bonhomie.

Everyone wended their way home looking forward to a good night’s sleep and with a warm glow from the conviviality of the day’s proceedings (and a fair amount of alcohol!)

Hope you are well and that you’re keeping to your New Year resolutions. I’m not sure that going cold turkey on all your medications is necessarily the best move, but I’m sure you know best…as usual!

Best wishes to Imelda…i’m sure she’s busy chopping down plenty of trees at the moment…heaven knows we need the wood to keep us warm as we can’t afford any other form of heating!

Regards

Denzil

Dear Kerensa

Sorry not to have been in touch over the holiday season, but you know how it is around here…an endless blur of jollity and fun.

Thank you for the phone call on Christmas Day…I recognised your voice on the answering machine, but I think that maybe you and Imelda may have had one or two sherries before calling..I didn’t understand a word…was that a Philippino Christmas Carol that you and Imelda were singing? I was making the traditional visit to Aunt Evie at the time and then of course it was off to cousin Gordon’s for lunch.

I think the last event I wrote to you about was the Christmas Draw in the Fletcher’s. The day after it was the Christmas Wine and Wisdom Quiz. Now, normally this is a very ribald, bacchanalian event, but for whatever reasons this year was rather quieter than normal with everyone still capable of leaving the Village Hall in an upright stance and fewer people than usual staggering over to the Fletcher’s. Jayne Olderby’s team won (well, with two teachers on the team I suppose that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise) .

Christmas Eve’s Carol singing outside the pub was, in contrast, hugely successful. The song sheeets, although not all the same and with the carols in different orders, did at least all have the same words for once, and the whole thing was wonderfully harmonious in the cold night air. As usual, Jeremy Bridger’s voice could be heard clearly above everyone else’s and he continued leading the community singing once we went into the pub. Cameron’s mum saved the day by providing the FREE mince pies to all so Bill was happy! I’m afraid that the rest of the evening was a bit of a blur with much drinking and the giving and receiving of cards from the whole community. I’m not entirely sure when I left, but it was rather late!

Christmas Day dawned dry and cold, though not particularly bright. As I was on my way to Aunt Evie’s I came across this strange woman that I’d seen in the pub on a couple of occasions, jogging 3 circuits around the village… I think you might have liked her actually…rather butch and coarse (though apparently with a predilection for the younger man…so probably not for you!) I also saw the Coins, Rob Andrews and Patrick trudging along the road out to Murphy’s Lodge where they were going for canapés with the Beginmanoor’s. This was apparantly part of a Christmas safari where a whole bunch of them were spending Christmas going from house to house in the village during the day to consume as much food and drink as possible in as many places as possible. Jilly Andrews arrived later with bags of artificial snow and cast it about outside the Beginmanoor’s to provide a Christmassy look. (She did the same apparently outside each of the homes visited, so by the end of Christmas, there were various houses around the village with snow on the gates and up their garden paths…very disconcerting for the uninitiated I’m sure…such selective snowfall would look rather bizarre).

I popped into the Fletcher’s at lunchtime before going on to Gordon’s…not too many Christmas jumpers on display which was quite disappointing, but the free drink was greatly appreciated and the safari bunch popped in en route to Jilly’s where they were going for lunch. They’d had a lovely time at the Beginmanoor’s, though the Christmas carols in Cornish had left them a little non-plussed since none of them speaks the language. Fatima’s canapés had been thoroughly appreciated, though a theme was developing with Mahmood and his camera.

The lunch I enjoyed with Gordon and Marjorie was positively frugal compared to the fare offered by Jilly to the safari travellers. Everything imaginable was available on their groaning table and all cooked to perfection by Jilly. I think the happy band was already appreciating at this point that there was no way they were going to complete their safari of five homes on Christmas Day (5.00 pm and still only at the second venue!) Bill commented that having fed everyone, he saw that Jilly conducted her band of travellers to the kitchen and got them to do all the washing up as he glimpsed through the window whilst walking Molly.

As I was settling down to tea with Gordon and Marjorie, the Happy Band were setting off on their next trek of the day to Rob’s where, surprise, surprise, another lavish spread awaited them, though as it was a buffet they could ‘graze’ at will rather than having to dive into yet another sit down meal. They spent a convivial evening in front of the fire enjoying Jilly’s traditional tale of Christmas events sprinkled with with interesting adjectives provided ‘blind’ by the rest of the Band and participating in a game of ‘Racing Grannies’ (whatever that may involve…the mind boggles.) They were joined by young Ollie Quiver the water bailiff and his partner Betty Bursary the buxom baker and I believe one or two of the Olderby clan joined them briefly, so quite a party! They had decided by this time that the safari, whilst being an excellent notion was totally unfeasable in just the one day, so eventhough they were all invited by the Bursaries to spend Boxing day on the beach (yes, the BEACH!) they would continue the safari after sundown the following day.

I need to pop off for a while, so I shall come back later and tell you about the rest of the festivities!

Denzil

Dear Kerensa

Well, the cards are all posted, the gifts all bought and wrapped and the larder is crammed full of Yuletide goodies. The social whirl that is Tremarrick is reaching fever pitch and there is little time to write much before the next onslaught on my liver by the spirit of Christmas.

Last night saw the Christmas Draw at the Fletcher’s. I popped in after the draw itself had taken place and was informed that I had won a tee-shirt. Well, I’ve never had any luck with draws and raffles so to that extent a tee-shirt is quite something, but it would be nice just once to get one of the major prizes. Hey ho!

Bill was very happy to have a large bottle of vodka go his way (not that I imagine it will last long with all his wild relatives arriving shortly). Nick won one of those grill contraptions so that kept Jayne happy and Phil Gunning was overjoyed at his slow cooker and was positively drooling at the prospect of stew and dumplings. Portia said he was almost dewy eyed when he discovered what he’d won…we have real men in Tremarrick! Sterling in a semi-inebriated state kept muttering about the haggis he’d won…’Who ever heard of haggis in a tin?’ It was really lovely watching everyone drifting out with all their booty and wondering just how many of the prizes would be shoved into cupboards, only to see the light of day prior to the next village jumble sale.

Of course, there was also copious consumption of alcohol along with the draw and whilst I had intended to have an early night, inevitably, I got caught up in the merriment and didn’t leave until rather late on.  However, the real highlight of the social calendar comes this evening with the Chritmas Wine and Wisdom. I imagine that whilst there may be a modicum of wisdom being shown in the earlier part of the evening, the wine will soon become the dominant feature and and poor Cameron will have to contend with the usual mayhem of marauding drunken revellers later in the evening.

I’m unclear from your last email whether Imelda will be spending Christmas with you or not. You know that you would be welcome here, but I understand why you still have misgivings about coming back to the village.

I shall try and write again before Christmas.

Denzil

Dear Kerensa

Well, good for you! I’m pleased that you’ve found a new ‘friend’. Imelda sounds quite charming, though I must confess, I’m not entirely sure why a Philippino lady steeplejack would be in this country, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.

The visit to the dentist for treatment turned out to be entirely uneventful apart from having half of my head numb for 24 hours and in retrospect, Olga seems a lot less terrifying now.

With the onset of December, inevitably, life in Tremarrick, as elsewhere, is now gearing up for Christmas. In many ways this a very enjoyable time, but I have heard some murmurings of discontent about the conversion of The Fletcher’s into Santa’s Grotto. Apparently the whole establishment is festooned with garish flashing lights and the tackiest of decorations. It seems that Cameron is in his element, surrounded by inflatable snowmen and artificial holly and he certainly seems to be a child at heart if his trick of threading himself through the legs of a bar stool and attempting to demonstrate his double-jointedness are anything to go by. Mind you, having seen the scars left by the former activity, I’m not sure who he’s kidding! The poor chap seemed almost apoplectic the other day though when Bill enquired whether he would be maintaining the tradition of offering free mince pies to the hordes who will be singing carols outside the pub on Christmas Eve. ‘Free’ does not seem to be a word that figures in young Cameron’s vocabulary, but we shall see whether he maintains his Scrooge persona come the day.

Davina Coin seems to be maintaining her reputation as a bit of a diva. Last week, she was helping Bob with the pruning of the privet outside her house, but according to my sources, there were glimpses of leopard skin prints beneath her warm winter clothing. A leopard skin print cat-suit for pruning? Who is she trying to impress I wonder?

Yesterday saw the installation of the Christmas tree (with very flashy new lights) in the middle of the village. Nick Olderby regards this very much as his domain and he was busy with his lad Tristan laying the cables yesterday morning, but he had to pop out with Jayne for a while and during his brief absence, various other villagers appeared on the scene and as soon as Sterling arrived with the tree, it was up without Nick getting a look-in. The look of dejection when he arrived back (with Jayne literally screeching the car to a halt right beside the tree) was quite touching. Of course he did then take charge and within a short while the tree was festooned with its lights. According to Patrick, the new guy who lives very near the site of the tree, the new flashing lights are very attractive, but because there are a lot of blue ones he says that on entering a dark room the immediate impression is of a fleet of police cars parked outside.

It was also the Christmas bazaar yesterday and whilst Nick and the others were struggling with the tree, I popped in and made straight for Sam O’connel’s stall where I snapped up a few more items of his art work . For once I think I got in before Bob Andrews! I’m very pleased with pieces I bought and as ever, the problem will be whether I can bear parting with them as Christmas gifts. I made one or two other purchases to keep the other stall-holders happy and then went home with a bag full of goodies and an empty wallet. I think I shall enjoy a slice or two of the cake I bought with my tea today!   

Well, time for a spot of lunch I think. Look after yourself and I shall be in touch again soon.

Regards

Denzil

Dear Kerensa

I’m not at all sure why you’re asking me of all people about the efficacity of various weedkillers…you know perfectly well that I’m no gardener, and if I remember rightly you’re still living in a seventh floor flat, so I’m unsure what on earth you need weedkiller for.

I’m sorry not to have been in touch for a week or so but I’ve been suffering from the dreaded toothache and finally had to make an appointment with the dentist. It’s obviously been a while since I’ve been, since old Mr Dent apparently passed on several years ago. I’d never thought about it at the time, but the shaking of his hands that I’d come to accept as quite natural was all down to the DTs and it was the cider that took him off eventually.

So, a new dentist. They all seem to come from foreign parts these days and the one I’m seeing is from Poland or somewhere like that…oh and it’s a woman. Now, I have nothing against lady dentists but I think this one only went into dentistry after her Communist era shot-putting career came to an end. It’s a terrifying enough experience going to the dentist, but when you’re led into a treatment room full of instruments of torture and encounter a formidable, muscular woman whose vice-like handshake makes your whole arm feel like it’s being wrenched from its socket, well, it’s not a great confidence builder.

So, Olga or whatever her name is, barks at me to lie on her couch and make myself comfortable. Comfortable?! I just lie there cowering and lo and behold this couch starts moving and I have to keep shuffling around until I end up in a position with my feet higher than my head. Then there’s the bright light that is thrust in front of my face and finally Olga who has now donned a mask and latex gloves looms in front of me.

Why is it that when you’re terrified you have this overwhelming need to keep swallowing? And of course, with your mouth wide open and a dental probe prodding every crevice in your mouth, the one thing you cannot do is swallow!

Olga droned on to her assistant with her listing of all the features she discovered in my mouth and then the next thing I knew she was grabbing my hand and saying: ‘X-ray. Hold plate very still please’. With this she thrust my index finger against this small rectangular object in my mouth and promptly rushed out of the room along with her assistant. The machine that she had surreptitiously thrust up against my cheek buzzed for a few moments and then she was back and repeating the whole operation with another plate.

I know that X-rays can be dangerous and that exposure has to be limited, but it is still very disconcerting when the dentist and the assistant make such an unseemly hasty exit without a word. Surely, a brief word of explanation would allay patient fears?

Olga sends me back to the waiting room to await the development of the X-rays and I sit there looking at the poor souls around me. There can be few more depressing places on Earth than a dentist’s waiting room. Everyone anxiously awaiting an assault on their mouths. Some knowing that they will be getting treatment and anticipating the discomfort, if not outright pain, and others going for a check up and fearful of the news they will get.

After 10 minutes Olga summons me to view the X-rays. An abcess (or maybe two) which will need antibiotics prior to an extraction and maybe even the need to see a Specialist about a dormant wisdom tooth which, if it needs to come out, will need to be done in hospital. BUT, the good news is no treatment today!

The appointment for the extraction is made and I trot off happily to the chemist’s to get my prescription (or at least I was happy until I learned that a prescription costs £7.10 these days…seems no time at all since I was paying 7/6!)

So, I’m taking the antibiotics, but still awaiting their having any noticeable effect. I have the joy of another visit to the dentist in a week or so…and I can’t even pop over to the pub for a beer because of the antibiotics. Hey ho!

Sorry not to have any village gossip this week, but the toothache has obliged me to keep myself pretty much to myself the past few days.

Look after yourself

Your brother

Denzil