From Bluebells to Dancing to Doggy Heroism

Oh my word, doesn't time fly? When I started this blog, I thought I'd do something weekly(ish). And here I am with more than a week gone by since I last wittered on at length about nothing in particular.

So, it's catch up time again. What's happened to Rusty and me in the intervening nine days or so? We did some free running, we visited Port Isaac and Tintagel with the mighty Wreckers Morris, we've helped Dozybean move into her new flat. No wonder I've not found time to keep track on these pages.

So, in approximate chronological order - some photos and drivellings from the last slightly-over-a-week.

The bluebells are in full glory on the Rame Peninsula and the woodland on the coast by Grenville Battery is looking truly splendid. Mrs The Millbrooker, Rusty and I walked around there on the sunny spring day that was Wednesday the 16th.

The paths around Grenville Battery and Maker are wide and relatively clear of obstacles, so I was able to walk Rusty using his extending lead rather than making him work. That made it a good day for himself - much more fun than trotting along in harness.

We paid a visit to Tregonhawke Cliff a couple of days later to do the marvelously English thing of taking tea. In this case with the grand master of such things Tea Time Taylor himself and his lovely affianced Jewel and their sproglet Piggly (not my name for her - Tea Time thought that one up.) They live in hobbit-like splendour in the peace and seclusion of one of the cliffside chalets, with delightful views over Whitsand Bay and Rame Head.

We had a great free run on the Minadhu, playing with a frisbee ring I picked up for next to nothing. Rusty isn't all that good at playing frisbee ring. The concept of bringing it back after I've chucked it escapes him. Sometimes he chases it, stops next to it and decides to trot off elsewhere - leaving yours truly to trog along and pick it up myself. This can be a bit of a trial; I've got a guide dog for a reason - finding a small plastic ring can be challenging with my eyesight! Sometimes he just picks it up a bit wrong and runs wildly while effectively blindfolded. He might be clever for a dog, but he's still a dog.

And then there was heading out for a day's Morris dancing in the beautiful surroundings of Port Isaac (yes, one or two Fishermen's Friends were in evidence on the slipway). Rusty was on fine form, mostly completely ignoring the swirling tatters jackets and melodeon-led music. My goodness, but it was warm down there on the slipway - sun blazing and not a breath of wind - whose idea was it to wear black?

His Rustiness doesn't appear in this video - but it ain't a bad one of the first outing this season of our signature dance "Knocker" with an introduction by yours truly, so I'll put it up here anyway. In the heights of summer, we've been known to dance this with full tankards.



We danced for a fair old while, so Mrs The Millbrooker took himself off for a walk along the coast path to save him the ennui of lying around with a bunch of Morris people.

And nearly last, but by no means least, our energetic parish council chairman (AKA Grandma Dong the Legend) organised a posse of volunteers to tidy up Millbrook in time for Black Prince Day; Mrs the Millbrooker, Rusty and I gladly got involved....

And my final story, which I'm really pleased to be here to tell you is that yesterday (Thurs 24th) Rusty did his job superbly - I know I put lots of fun stuff up here, but he's a working dog and I need him for a reason. Yesterday I was walking from home to the Cremyll Ferry and then through Plymouth to help Dozybean move into her new flat. On North Road East, his Rustiness stopped me from walking straight into the path of a car which turned unexpectedly into the road that I was wanting to cross -  all that traffic training and kerb work paid off, big time. Not only is he a great dog, he's a bit of a hero too.

Needless to say, there is no photo of this event - but this is us on the carpet in Dozy's new living room, relaxing after our five miler and near miss.

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All photos and videos by Mrs the Millbrooker or me

except 2nd photo in Port Isaac by Karen Leadbeater.

Starsky and Rust

Those of us of a certain age grew up watching the legendary US cop show Starkers and Crutch. Those readers of more tender years will probably be saying "who?" "What?".

Just for them, and perhaps as a flash of nostalgia for us approaching-crumblidom types, here's the daring duo as they appeared on our screens every week in the mid-late 70s.

Everyone, but everyone, identified with either Starsky or Hutch (or possibly with Huggy Bear, but that's another story). Well the years have rolled by for all of us. I'm no longer an impressionable teenager and dear old S&H are for minority "TV Gold" channels only. The zeitgeist has moved on.

Which brings me to last weekend when Mrs the Millbrooker, Rusty and I headed off once more for Truro and a theatrical treat. Many many years ago, Paul Michael Glaser (Starsky - the one on the jumper) appeared as Perchik in the film version of Fiddler on the Roof. And now he's grown older and has taken on the lead role of Tevye in a touring stage production that came to Cornwall. Yes! Starsky in Cornwall!

Here he is, as Tevye, in a scene with Perchik (Steven Bor).

And so, to the Hall for Cornwall and Rusty's first time at the theatre with yours truly.

Once inside the auditorium, parts of the set were open to view, very impressive it was, too.

Rusty and I made ourselves comfortable in our very-close-to-the-front seats. Or floor, in his case. He's not allowed on seats.

To my mind it was a tremendous production of an old favourite show; I was lucky enough to see Topol playing Tevye back in the 1990s, it was very much his role and it takes a brave man to step into Topol's shoes. Paul Michael Glaser is that man and he's a fine Tevye, supported by a terrific cast. It doesn't really matter how much I try to say "buy a ticket" or "go and see this show", the tour is all-but over; it's currently at Southend then it's heading to Northampton and finally Eastbourne. Tour dates are here.

After the show, we repaired to Betty and MinorEarthQwake's city-centre abode. It was still early - we'd been to a matinee performance. Here's his Rustiness chilling in the flat and then posing in the distance on a footbridge close to his new spending area in a wee park (how appropriate) just outside Betty and MinorEarthQwake's pad.

We stayed overnight, had a delicious meal at Baba on Lemon Street, and the next day headed out along the river's edge for the couple of miles or so to Malpas for a lunchtime pint and another bite to eat. After MinorEarthQwake had generously sacrificed one of his socks to amuse Rusty who didn't have any of his toys with him for the overnight stay.

All of which was much more to Rusty's taste than snoozing the afternoon away underneath the seats in a theatre with an old cop-show star and lots of show tunes.

Until next time.....

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Photos by Mrs the Millbrooker, MinorEarthQwake or me except:

Starsky and Hutch photo nicked from www.duetsblog.com

Fiddler on the Roof photo nicked from scottbirdonline.blogspot.co.uk/

A Busy Week

Well what busy fellows Rusty and I have been in the days since I last wittered on about very little on these pages. Rather than be buttock-clenchingly dull and including every last detail of our lives, I'll concentrate on a couple of stories and perhaps just mention anything else in passing.

Since I last sat here in front of the old steam driven laptop, Rusty and I have attended Morris rehearsals; been to a formal meeting by rail-replacement bus service; his four-leggedness has had his monthly Stronghold treatment; we've performed on stage at the Barbican Theatre; been to a wine tasting and birthday celebration; taken a lovely constitutional and last, but not least, paid a visit to Duloe. And breathe.

So, Morris rehearsals - I have no photos and nothing of import to impart. Ditto the formal meeting and the Stronghold. As yet I have no photos or video of the theatre performance but, with luck, I will have some soon(ish). This is the theatre, just because this post needs a touch of colour by now.

To begin properly, and not before time, I'll take a retrospective at Shazzerooneypoos' birthday which was yesterday as I write. We headed off to the Royal William Yard and Le Vignoble wine tasting bar-cum-wine merchant. Le Vignoble has an interesting concept with which to part the unwary from their hard-earned: they give you a card which you then slot into a dispenser and try however many wines you wish to; each bottle has three portion sizes available at varying prices - two decent sips, half a glass and a full glass. The idea is that you pay at the end - be afraid, be very afraid. I think we all managed to be careful enough not to break the bank and Rusty was, of course, the centre of attention almost throughout.

Suitably refreshed at Le Vignoble (hic), we all sauntered across to Las Iguanas for some late lunch and rather a lot more to imbibe. Hic, indeed. A jolly fine time was had by all and I'm sure you'll all join me in wishing Shazzerooneypoos a very happy birthday. Huzzah!

And then we come to Duloe (those who were at any of these events might realise that I've completely failed to do this in chronological order.) It was a miserable Cornish-mizzling sort of day and we thought that rather than stay cooped up at Millbrooker Towers, we'd head over and impose our company on Rosemary. There's a paddock in the grounds of Rosemary's little enclave and Rusty enjoyed a good old run about in the mizzle.




Just to prove we take him out in good weather, too - this is himself a couple of weeks back doing much the same sort of thing.

And after his good old run about, Rusty joined us indoors where we were all royally fed around Rosemary's kitchen table. Thank you, Rosemary.

So now we reach today, the sun has finally shone on Cornwall again today which seemed like an ideal excuse to lace the walking boots on and look at some of the sights around the Rame Peninsula.

The route we took was up Donkey Lane to the coast road and then back through Wiggle, to Fourlanesend and home. Not a huge trek, but a decent enough leg stretch. And here are a few shots snapped en-route.

There is just one little story from the walk which doesn't really involve Rusty - although he was there, of course. At the junction of Ninney Lane, Mrs the Millbrooker spotted a little ball of fur by the side of the road looking very sorry for itself.

Truth be told, it didn't look as if it would survive all that long - and certainly it wouldn't sitting there. If a buzzard or kestrel didn't have it, a car's wheels probably would. We didn't really know whether to leave it, move it or put it out of its misery. Mrs the Millbrooker, being the heroine that she is, decided on the middle course of action. She picked the wee fellow up (after a quick chase down the lane) and popped him into the hedgerow near a gate.

That's it, we've caught up with the Rusty news. I'm off work at the moment and might well be that way for a few weeks (I'm seeing Doctor Scaggy on Thursday), so you never know - I might even stick stuff up on these pages a bit more frequently for a while. 

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Photos / videos by me or Mrs the Millbrooker except

Barbican Theatre: http://www.shakethedust.co.uk/

Mothering Sunday

I don't get to do Mothering Sunday (or Mothers' Day, if you prefer, although the difference seems to have disappeared over the decades); at least, I don't get to do it with my mum. She died fifteen years ago, so while I think about her often, it's sort of pointless buying her a card and visiting.

Luckily, Mrs the Millbrooker is a mum - so I get to tag along on whatever's been organised by the three offspring, all now in their twenties. And Rusty gets to tag along too - after all, where I go, he goes.

This year, Betty Slob traveled up from Truro to treat us to a bit of a slap-up at Prezzo in the Royal William Yard. One of the waiting staff kindly took a snapshot, slightly on the fuzzy side, but we're all in it.

For anyone not in the know, Prezzo does Italian food; it's a chain - but they do what they do pretty damned well (I avoid the starters which are a bit overpriced for what you get, but the mains and puds are well up to, and over, scratch).

Rusty was made very welcome and several of the staff wandered past making "Aw, he's so cute' noises. Being of the adopted Cornish persuasion, Mrs the Millbrooker chose what looked for all the world like a pasty. The Italians call them calzones, but we know better don't us me 'andsomes.

Prezzo also offer what they describe as Gelato Burger - Huh? Well, I had to didn't I....
ice cream in a toasted brioche bun.

After filling ourselves to bursting on Italian goodies, Mrs the Millbrooker's remaining two - Dozybean and Jah Cousteau - met up with us for a wander and a drink or two at Devil's Point and in the Royal William Yard. Pooben was along for the ride with his mum as well.

Here's a small selection of shots showing us pootling around and achieving nothing except a pleasant conversation and a touch of chilling , to use the modern parlance for relaxing.
L-R Rusty, me, Betty Slob, Mrs the Millbrooker.

And, with Mrs the Millbrooker now on camera duty, L-R Jah Cousteau, Rusty, me, Betty.

And lastly, to prove they were there, Dozybean and Pooben outside the Seco Lounge back in the R.W.Y. as we enjoyed a drink in the sunshine. Eagle-eyed readers might notice that there's a birthday card on the table - Pooben had his sixth birthday on Saturday and his Grandma Elin sent a present and card down with Betty who duly delivered them as we soaked up the sun....

Dancing for the First Time

Not me, oh no - I've been doing this for a while - since the summer of 2010 to be precise. But Rusty, to the best of my knowledge, hasn't been out on the Morris before. Perhaps he has and I'm just not aware of it, or perhaps he has and he's seen people in white with bibs and sashes, waving hankies around. That would be Cotswold Morris. We Wreckers don't do that. We do Border Morris -  that means wearing tatters (in our case black and Cornish gold) and making a fair old amount of noise.

I don't dance myself (except on very rare occasions when I've been known to join in Much Wenlock), I think I'd be something of a danger to myself and others whacking a hefty stick around when I have no idea whether there's anyone in close proximity on either side - such are the joys of RP and its gradual destruction of my peripheral vision. On the plus side, I get to play guitar and hang around with the fine bunch of people who make up Wreckers Morris.

Here's a small cross section of Wreckers as we were on Saturday just gone in Saltash. We were dancing in the late morning to help raise some funds for the Cornwall Air Ambulance. The side is considerably larger than the number of those present on Saturday; not everyone can make it to every event. Except Wrichard and Max - almost!

This was my first outing with my old Wrecking chums for a while - I've not been all that well over the winter. It felt seriously good to pull on my old tatters jacket again and strum along with the traditional old tunes.

His Rusticleness did very well, only getting a bit excited at the beginning of the event and soon settling down to watch from his accustomed prone position. The only time things got a bit out of hand was when a large labradoodle stopped to watch with his human. Rusty wanted to be friends, but he was on duty so wasn't allowed. The labradoodle's human decided otherwise and let his charge rush up to Rusty which caused a moment or two's mayhem.

We danced and played for a shade and a bit over an hour, raising (I have learnt) a shade and a bit over £60 for this year's chosen charity.

And so, to this posting's magnificently exciting climax. Mrs The MIllbrooker was present to record us motley crew doing what we do. This is the last dance we performed with Rusty paying rapt (ahem) attention to every step. Ladies and germs, I give you a slightly under populated (this dance usually has 8 people in it) and slightly cramped in terms of available dancing space on a Saltash pavement, Sheep Skinners danced to the combined tunes of Jan Mijne Man and Go Mauve.