Mulled Whining

Never let it be said that the Winter comes too soon to Clovelly; it's a time when village dwellers get back their streets and have time to recoup from the seasons grockle strain. It's a time for noisy neighbour gatherings and fishwife, doorstep rows, reminding everyone just how long you've lived here and what they can do about it!!

The harbour mulls over the shaking Autumnal winds and constant swells break tirelessly upon the beaten shore. Soon the day will arrive for yet another festival, another celebration, another event, another day to drag out the bunting and step around the visiting hopefuls looking for a reason to stay. Upon the Quay we find, Barry and Norman; Clovelly's own Light Brigade, reappearing armed with cables of multi tasking light bulbs, grotesque figurines, flashing ropes cable tied to plywood stars and a 'passed it's best' rowing boat pressed into service as a grandly, if not over zealously re-christened, 'Clovelly Clipper'!

So soon the harbour shall bulge with the over-burdening expectations of a few precariously and randomly distibuted fairy lights, supermarket mince pies and warm spiced wine, designed to evoke some ahh's a few ooh's and draw the last few pennies from the cold bystanding pockets for a worthy cause.

In the meantime, over excited waves continue to splash over the Quay wall, damping the dogfish danglers and washing the wall of dogs. Winds from the South and West have left us with a residual swell that has sent the Herring seeking sanctuary in deeper water, while the omnipresent seal waits patiently off the harbour for his breakfast, lunch, tea and inbetween meal snacks.

Fishing types gather at the Red Lion windows giving advice and darning yarns about things they know little about, telling of the days they never had to anyone desperate enough to listen. While quietly the fish are still caught, the fish are still sold and the fish are still eaten and the front door hides the kettle recently boiled for that warming cup of tea. So if this is Winter, let it come and I'll gladly snuggle up next to a mermaid and wait for the sun.

See you at the switching on of the Harbour Lights on the 6th of December.