Being about as cosmopolitan, metropolitan and metrosexual as it's possible to be - the evidence for which statement is everywhere within these very pages. It seemed like a good idea to allow our capital city a glimpse of Mrs The Millbrooker, Rusty and me.
Tell you what, I'll start again - perhaps with a tad more veracity. Being countryside loving overgrown hobbits from the Rame Peninsula, we decided it might be nice to spend an afternoon with Betty and MinorEarthQwake in their Truro stamping ground.
We began by hopping into the new (OK - second hand, but new to us) Rustymobile with Dozybean and Pooben safely ensconced in the back seats and Rusty in his cage bringing up the very rear.
Betty met us at Truro station after we'd voyaged on the iron horse from Liskeard through the wild west of old Kernow and she led us into to town in search of somewhere for lunch. This was a challenge for Rusty and me - an unfamiliar route with narrow pavements and lots of people and distractions. He coped pretty darned well in my 'umble. Indeed, it might appear as if he could do this with his eyes closed.
After rejecting several potential lunch venues due to large and loud TV screens purveying Six Nations rugby to large and loud men within, we eventually settled on our old favourite Try Dowr on Lemon Quay. Yes it's a Wetherspoon's, meaning it's pretty much the same as every other damned Wetherspoon's pub in the known universe, but at least you know the food's going to be reasonable and not too pricey. And the televised rugby was at a more manageable volume than elesewhere.
After a good old fill-up, generously sponsored by Betty - thank you, Betty - we made our way back through town to Betty and MinorEarthQwake's flat overlooking the River Truro. This is Rusty and me crossing the bridge over the river en-route.
There followed a very nice dozy post-prandial loll-around with a decent cup of coffee and plenty of chat.
Rusty has definitely taken on board the training I gave him regarding showing dignity at all times when in someone else's home.
After this wee bit of down time, we intrepid sextet (Mrs The Millbrooker, Betty, Dozybean, Pooben, Rusty and me) set off once again to have a good old fuddle in the World's Finest Fabric Shop (©millbrookrusty.blogspot.com.)
Rusty was well behaved in the shop and kindly pointed out to me, with an eyebrow appropriately raised, a product that I'd never heard of. But, perhaps I should think about getting a bottle - just for those unfortunate occasions, you know ....
Not long after we left Truro Fabrics, MinorEarthQwake arrived back into town after his day's work of throwing small children around and muttering "Aaaar, Jim lad." Yes, that really is a fair summation of what he does for a living.
MinorEarthQwake led us through the back lanes of central Truro to a small palace of delight. Angelato is the sort of place that you really shouldn't go into - it's going to expand your waistline dramatically. These guys are so good at what they do, though. Should you find yourself in Truro, I recommend you head there.
We managed a quick pint (of course we did) in the William IV before heading back to the station and homeward.
Betty and MinorEarthQwake were also travelling eastward to spend an evening of piratical debauchery in St Awful. We plonked ourselves comfortably in first class, it being a weekend and there being two railway employees among us - meaning that such luxuries are permitted.
And that pretty much took care of Saturday. The sun has shone brightly today as I write this drivel and Rusty has had a jolly nice free run, more of which anon....
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Photos by Mrs the Millbrooker or me except:
Truro Fabrics exterior shamelessly nicked from hotfrog.co.uk
Angelato ice cream counter shamelessly nicked from angelato-truro.co.uk
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