Sunny Steve

How many people living or visiting Clovelly today would of heard of Stephen Adams Headon? From 1817 until 1987 there was always a Stephen Headon living in the village. The first was the son of John Headon and Mary Ann Adams, whose surname was to continue for many generations of Headons as a middle name. Who today knows anything about, 'Sunny Steve,' the donkey boy? Born on the 6th of October in 1908, Steve was the son of John Josiah (Jack) Headon, he was great grandson of that first Stephen Headon and great, great grandson of John and Mary Ann. On Thursday the 10th of July in 1941 an article appeared in the, 'News Chronicle,' written by John Devon, entitled, 'The Boy who loved the Sea,' it went on to detail how at the age of 14, Steve and a brother owned and worked two donkeys, 'Gunter,' and 'Daisy,' but the draw of the sea was too strong and Steve reluctantly, sold his share in the donkeys and left Clovelly for the, 'Red Ensign Club,' in London.

Steve was taken under the wing of the Club Commander; Commander Loder, who was able to find him an apprenticeship on a good shipping line. Having been more prone to teasing the local Policeman than concentrating on his studies, Stephen was to find difficulties in mastering the mysteries of the more complicated mathematics involved with navigating a ship, but determination and hard work earned him a proud reward when the whole of Clovelly rejoiced and flew flags on hearing he had become a Second Officer. It had been many years since a Clovelly man had passed as a Master Mariner, Clovelly had high hopes for its son.

Voyages around the world calling in at many exotic, foriegn ports were to follow, until at last he passed as a Chief Officer with only the coveted Masters Ticket left before him. Sunny Steve had to wait while War and Oceans kept him from his goal. Finally the day came when his chance arose to sit his last exam and he excitedly wrote to his father telling him he was coming home. On the 17th day of February in 1941 while crossing the Atlantic, German U-Boat 69 struck Steve's ship the, 'Siamese Prince,' it left no survivors; Sunny Steve was only 32.

Back to the trees

Trees, I first noticed the trees, leafless, crowded, gathering together, comfortable in their surroundings, yawning branched, solid English trees. It's so obvious that, other than a six hour day trip to France last year, I have never been abroad, let alone flown before.
Englands irregular, haphazard, abstract landscape unravels below, leaving behind a seemingly more ordered Continent to this mornings memory. I was returning from my first ever flight and my first ever visit to the beautiful city of Venice where the streets are paved in water.

A few weeks ago I was putting in the bottom of a withy lobster pot when I was visited by the searing, burning pain of a misbehaving back, leaving me to hobble home and come to terms with weeks of discomfort. Knowing that in a few weeks I would be expected to travel abroad, I had no choice but to surrender my bank balance and visit an Osteopath. For those that suffer the unjust slings of back pain, you'll appreciate the melodrama of indecision that was to follow, to pay or to put up with pain. I paid. The lobster pot had to wait.

It was during this anti-inflammatry drug fuelled period of inactivity that the Lord of the Manor, the Hon. John Rous and I were invited to the auspicous event of the Ilfracombe Yacht Club's annual dinner and presentation evening. The humour was at my expense as I came to mistake the date of the evening and consequently visited Ilfracombe twice, it pays to read the invitation properly.

More used to seeing these fellows waterproofed, sail wrapped and afloat, it took a moment to recognize them handsomely dressed, bow tied and accompanied by their wives. I had the greatest pleasure of sitting between the Commodore's wife and that yachtsman of great dignity, John Clements. I first met John when I took on the role as Clovelly's Harbour Master, he arrived with an eclectic squadron of various Ilfracombe parts, his opening salvo was, 'Where do you want us?' while proceeding to organize and berth his fleet. When he visits I always refered to John as the Harbour Master as he has a natural understanding of the way things work and where things go. At the opposite end of the table sat John's wife, Ann, the lady behind the yacht, the face of the name I have so often heard, the matriarch.

Many other welcoming faces swam about the room, the kind Tony Reeves, Mark, who shall always be remembered for showing the stern of his yacht, Haze, to the many who may chase him and the few who may catch him, also it was a pleasure to see, addicted to love Bert, who has visited Clovelly with as many women as he has yachts and hopefully many more to come. Missing from this crazy gang was the irrepressible Mr Duffin, my longest visiting sailor, whose sense of humour is as boundless as the sea, I have no doubt he will be amongst the first visiting boats of the soon to start season. Thank you all for a most pleasant evening.

As the weeks passed my back improved enough for my Venetian visit, where waiting for me was my mermaid, who at present is working aboard and helping to oversee the completion of her new cruise ship, the 'Nieuw Amsterdam' on which she shall be its amazing Second Officer.
It never ceases to amaze me that a maritime nation such as ours has no shipyard capable of building a ship of this magnitude. So much for our maritime heritage! We were given a tour of the ship and yard, its sheer size hard to comprehend, along way from my own little motor boat in Clovelly.

Coming from a simple village background, used to cobbles, narrow lanes and tumbling down cottages, more seaward looking than land grabbing, I was delighted with Venice, though surprised that this national treasure was shabby, ragged, decayed, graffitied and litter strewn at the same time as being magnificent in its old age, noble, proud and beautiful, so overflowing with history it's impossible to breath in its splendour. A land rather like my own, full of visitors and yesterdays ghosts while waiting patiently for another tomorrow.

Too soon I had to turn away from my first foriegn trip and return to England, sadly leaving my mermaid behind. As she returns to her ship I must board the plane and wait as the land unfurls from country to country until at last I see the trees.
With the springtime sun edging its way into our lives, finally it's time for us to grasp the point of what we do, lobster pots, boat trips, is that a yacht heading this way? It's time to go out upon my Quay once more.