2.5 absurdly good days in Cornwall. The incredible town of Portloe. [Photo below.] Hiked about 20-25 miles (about 5, 12, 6 I figure), hiked until 10 p.m., up and down the whole time. About zero fellow hikers. (Only about 1,000 vertical feet—not the Sierras or Maroon Bells.) Pasties. A great little hotel, the Lugger—their fresh fish (John Dory on Sunday night) lived up to its billing. Lovely conversations at the likes of shops the size of a postage stamp—also the local Post Office.
Work totally out of mind, thence very rough "return to civilization"—even though it was but a stretched weekend. No cell phone coverage! No Internet! Great trains! Joy to the world!
I feel completely at home in Britain, having been visiting for 40 years, since 1966, when I came over on a U.S.N.-R.N. midshipman swap—served aboard HMS Tiger, a cruiser. Well, not completely at home—which is great. Am completely comfortable—but also enjoy the cultural differences of a "foreign country"—even if it is "the cousins."
Before blogging became all the rage, Tom was posting book reviews and Observations (essentially early blog posts) to this site. You can find the archives below.
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