A rainbow appeared yesterday as I looked out between the Cottages opposite my window.

This morning

Q's  monument is shrouded in mist

The air is saturated

Like silent hooded monks

People pass, bent

As if praying to Helios

I have work to do

Peace comes upon completion

Not contemplation

Walking boots

Warm sweater

Woolly hat

Barber jacket.

I hear:

“It'll be good once we're out

It always is”

Sunshine has a way of dispelling the memory of misty days at the stroke of an open curtain.

Yesterday I went shopping with a dear friend, we spent five hours or so, avoiding the car ferry, on our trip to the nearest town..

It took us from tiny single track lanes, onto beautiful rolling countryside, and for the final few miles, a 70 mph blast along a dual carriageway, having the curious distinction of two bridges spanning it, which were designed for the sole use of bats – and near which no bat has ever been seen.

Everything had been so right, so well planned. Right breeding, right school, right University and then……

Where had it all gone.

The family business, the inheritance, and now this - this opportunity, after so many failures, surely this one must be a winner?

Jumping up from the chair, he strides to the window and looks at the familiar view.

This is his big chance. 

If it doesn't go to plan, then even that that which he holds most dear will be lost. There will be only one way out.

Surely this is an opportunity not to be missed, and yet – if……

Don't even think about it.

He who dares, wins.

Mr.T.

What happened to common sense?

Tombarriesimmons

Mar 12, 2026

View of the Harbour

Computers are wonderful slaves, however, they seem to rob their masters of the ability to think.

I was taking a walk to the top of the village, when I noticed a gentleman walk across the road from the public convenience to admire the view.

I could hear someone rattling the door of the disabled toilet, then a banging, accompanied by a female voice calling out - help – I can't get out.

The gentleman the other side of the road admiring the view must I thought, have been deaf, or had decided that the commotion was none of his business.

Fortunately, I have a  Letherman key fob, so I knocked on the door and said can I help?

A rather frightened voice said - please, I'm locked in!

I found the slot of the Emergency release, and used the screwdriver device to turn the bolt, then pushed the door open a little way, whereupon a very shaken lady with a walking stick thanked me.

Then she made her way across the road to join her husband, who was still admiring the view, unaware of his disabled wife's plight.

I woke up this morning, thinking about John Hill's quotation "I can't wait to die, then I can tell God just what I think of him".

And it got me to thinking about how I love churches,  the music of JS Bach, and the blessings of this life.

There is a soft tapping at my front door. The street lights are out, and the committee for the resistance wants to come in. They have a problem.

I listen in the dark to their request. It is necessary to lay a cable across the estuary. The night before, they had tried to fire a bolt from an antique crossbow, but it fell short of the opposite bank.

An idea takes seed in my mind, if the bolt had wings, it would fly further.

It's the annual Fowey River paddle-board race. There is a fine calm sea. One man is way ahead of the others, who are mere specks on the horizon.

His board is fitted with out-rigger rowlocks, and he stands back to the prow, rowing powerfully with great long oars.

As he approaches the Harbour, he glances over his shoulder, and then alters his course, heading straight for the rocky spur under the castle walls.

Home-made sourdough bread

The best way to stay young is not to acknowledge the passage of time

I've spent the last few days travelling across the country to a hospital appointment with the famous professor Philpot.

The reason being, that after an operation on my nose some years ago, I lost all sense of smell.

You may think, that it's no big deal, compared to our other senses, but there are certain things that I found annoying, like not smelling a fire, or dog poo stuck under my walking boots.

The biggest loss of course is seeing flowers and not being able to smell them.

God created man because he loves stories.

I often wondered where this quotation came from.

Last night, after a good four hours sleep, and with chamomile tea not doing its trick, I decided to find out.

I was soon engrossed in the harrowing story of Ellie Wiesel, who at 15, along with his family, were transported to Auschwitz concentration camp.

The quotation came from the preface to his book - The Gates of the Forest.

In it he asks, where is God hiding, where can one find redemption in a world that God has abandoned.

Walking home. Blazing sunlight.

I have forgotten what winter feels like.

Lulu and Gaby walk in front of me.

They are in deep conversation as they go for a swim in the sea.

I prefer to be alone.

Walk past my house and onto the great meadow of short cropped grass by the beach.

In 1998 after I lost my home, and was caring for my disabled mother, since my father had died suddenly, I came across this picture in a Sunday paper.

I was really taken with the illustration, which I cut out and stuck to the inside of a kitchen cabinet.

Every day, when I open the cabinet, the picture spoke to me. I resolved to see the animation as soon as I could.

The months grew, to seven years, and when my mother died, I was able to take my gap year,  about forty years late.

With many adventures around the world under my belt, I returned to Cornwall to work, write, and make myself a little home.

My friends Glenn and Anne-Marie had taken me for a lovely meal at the pub by the harbour. We must've spent nigh on four hours eating, drinking and telling stories.

Then we called in to my place for a nightcap (which left little in the bottle), and some more anecdotes. I normally drink a glass of red with my evening meal, which is why I use a wine box.

But for my friends, I keep my best wines, which arrive around Christmas time.

Every year Colin sends me six bottles of wine, and they never disappoint. I would like to be able to afford it, but my budget won't stretch that far.

I selected a bottle of Cabalie - a Catalan red made in traditional methods. It was extraordinarily good. By the time I retired the bottle was empty.

The wine must've helped me sleep, because when I woke it was 5 am. The street light had come back on, turning my ceiling into an imitation of the morning sun.

Unusually, I'd awoken from a dream in which I met a character from a previous dream.

We greeted each other like old friends.

A Texan meets an Englishman in a Pub, and asks him to explain what an English conundrum is.

Well, says the Englishman, imagine a crossroads, where a young lady is waiting for her intended.

Approaching the junction are four men. One is a pedestrian, one rides a moped, one drives a car, and the fourth rides a horse.

Which one is she waiting for?

Dunno says the Texan, you tell me.

It's the Horseman, replies the Englishman.

How'd ya work that out?

Simple, smiles the Englishman.

Because the horse manure.

Unusually, I slept very well last night. However, I did have a strange dream in which I dreamt that I had awoken from a dream to find that I was sleeping on a houseboat

Looking up against the blue sky with trees overhanging, I saw a man was looking down at me.

Unseen before Venus

Incense unknown

Petals unfold to

Nightingale alone

Willing pray that

Caution forewarns

Anchored fast

By ten young thorns.

I'm an anti-masochistic kind of person. Exercise is anathema to me, but I must do it for my own good.

Each day I walk to the top of the village, where, out of breath, I am rewarded with a view over the harbour.