GEORGE’S BATTLE WITH ‘NAZI’ COUNCIL

From time to time, I have mentioned here the aggro that was an all-too familiar feature of life on and around Falmouth’s Prince of Wales Pier during the summer months back in the 1970s and ‘80s. 

A principal player in the “battles” that used to ensue - among rival operators and/or with Carrick District Council – was pleasure boat owner and former prisoner of war George Pill.

 

The battles always made good copy, as we said in the newspaper trade. They were mostly of the verbal variety, and there was one such that really took the bizarre biscuit, with a lawyerly edict that had George complaining of “Nazism gone mad.” 

 

In July, 1989, the Falmouth Packet reported that George was furious at the way he and his colleagues had been treated while TV crews filmed BBC TV’s “Songs Of Praise” on Custom House Quay.

 

The council, it explained, had banned the Pill camp from setting foot on the pier after a casebook of disagreements which they claimed was losing them around £500 a week in trade. 

 

But as a one-off they were allowed to operate pleasure boats from there on two days while the BBC were in town.   

 

But this, as Ron Carroll reported, was only after the rulebook had been thrown at them.

 

Through their solicitors, Carrick insisted that they could pull their boats alongside the pier and stand on the steps – but not set foot on the pier itself.

 

Carroll continued: “When the fed-up family asked if they could step on the pier to go home and get changed, George Pill Snr claims Carrick acted ‘like Nazism gone mad.’

 

“They got the go-ahead to step onto the pier when their boat tied up at 5 pm, go home and walk back over the pier and get on their boat at 7 pm. But there was a big but . . . 

 

“Council lawyers made it clear ‘consent is given only on the strict condition that you should proceed directly from the boat to the main road across the pier without stopping, deviating, diverting or touting en route.’

 

“In other words, KEEP YOURSELF TO YOURSELF. If they failed to do as they were told, permission to use the pier on the two days in question would be immediately withdrawn, it was warned.

 

“ . . . Carrick responded to the Pills’ attack with a sharp two-worder:  ‘No comment.’”

 

Meanwhile, George was so annoyed that he planned to write to Esther Rantzen, suggesting his treatment should be a candidate for an “It’s more Than My Job’s Worth” award given by Esther on her hugely popular Saturday night TV show “That’s Life.” 

 

 Retired journalist John Marquis fondly recalls how, during his years as Packet editor, he would be regularly phoned at home by George complaining about this and that, sometimes in deadly serious fashion, others with tongue partly in cheek.  

 

In his book about the Packet - The Most Famous Little Paper In The World – John wrote:

 

“Local journalism can be highly personal, very personal indeed.  George Pill took no prisoners when he was in a spat and he used to call me at home on Saturday nights to complain about stories in that week’s Packet.

 

“Hey, Marquis,” he would begin. “What’s this tripe you’ve got in the paper? What are ee on about?” 

 

“Ah, good evening, Mr Pill. Nice of you to call just as I was about to settle down in front of the television.  Good to hear your voice again.”

 

“Never mind about that . . . what ‘ave ‘ee got to say about it?”

 

As John reflected the other day: “George was one of Falmouth's great waterfront characters - a bit prickly, but good at heart.”

LATER, COSTLIER AND MORE ANTIQUATED THAN EVER, BUT I’D STILL MISS THIS SERVICE . . .

Yet another hefty rise in the price of a first class postage stamp recently prompted fresh focus on the future of a service that looks more antiquated than ever in this great digital age.

 

Various “experts” have for long been forecasting the end of the service altogether (and newspapers for that matter).

 

I for one, though, hope that the daily sight of our friendly “postie” with his sackful of mail, albeit arriving anything up to seven hours later than once upon a time, will survive for a little while longer yet.

 

I was saying much the same thing a decade ago, with this piece in my book Reflections, published in aid of Cancer Research UK:--

 

“Your average postie is a friendly, chatty sort, who rarely fails to brighten the day, and the sound of his goodies dropping on the mat is still keenly anticipated, despite so much of them these days being junk items that go straight into the recycling bin. 

 

“Perish the thought, but without this service we would also finally bid farewell to one more source of entertainment and individuality. 

 

“An example once came my way from Robert Wagstaff, head of his namesake Falmouth-based group of china and glass stores. He showed me an envelope which reached its destination despite being addressed thus:--

 

“The Manager or Manageress

The China and Glass Shop

Quite near to the Falmouth Bookshop, I believe

And not far from where the road

Curves around with a pub and church

With shops in between 

Leading to a phone box

The main street

Falmouth, Cornwall

 

“The address clearly fell some way short of the plea, duly stamped on the envelope, to ‘Be Properly Addressed – Postcode It.’

 

“In the bottom left hand corner, however, was another note saying: ‘To the postal authorities – sorry about this, but I’m sure you’ll come up trumps’

 

“With such touching faith, how could they have failed?”

 

How indeed, and cartoonist Brian Thomas illustrated the piece like this:--

 

                                                                And this is just the delivery directions! 

NORMAL SERVICE RESUMED – BUT BRRR, WHAT A SHOCKER!

It was good to be back . . .

As I waited for daughter Lisa to arrive (always three minutes late, bare minimum), I was joined for a chat on Falmouth’s Gyllyngvase Beach by Bruce Rioch, former Scotland football captain and Arsenal manager.

 

Bruce, who knows a thing or two about achieving, said: “I take my hat off to these swimmers, the ones who do it all year round. You’ll never get me doing that.

 

“I have just been standing here on the beach, gazing out in awe at the whole scene, with a fantastic sunrise over the bay and all these swimmers having their daily dip.  It makes me feel cold just looking at them!”

 

For Lisa and me, it was our first sea swim for a week.  All reports yesterday suggested the great jellyfish invasion (see recent blog posts) was all but over – for now, anyway.

 

And with today’s forecast of total sun and precious little wind, how could we resist that grand return?

 

We were not disappointed, but something else I picked up from one of yesterday’s swimmers was that the sea had turned markedly colder.

 

She was not wrong. It fair took our breath away.

 

And, together with today’s drop in the air temperature, there was a very real sense as we got changed afterwards that winter is upon us, for all the glorious dawn this morning.

 

At least all those jellies had gone.  All, that is, except for just one of them, lying dead on the sloping shingle as we walked down to the low-tide water.

 

Small mercies, eh? 

JELLY BAD SHOW, WHAT?

Latest reports from the front indicate that the great jellyfish invasion, although receding, is still far from gone. (See WHAT A SHOCKER – WHO NEEDS JAWS! Blog 04 Nov.)

 

I’ve been without my regular sea-swim fix, at Gyllyngvase Beach on Falmouth’s seafront, for more than a week now and the withdrawal symptoms are setting in alarmingly, I tell you.

 

On Friday, as I checked with a swimmer just leaving the water, the “mauve stingers” were thinning out but were still there in small clumps – and he had duly been stung several times.

 

This morning, I sidled up to another fellow swimmer, still in her dry robe, having decided not to go in, and she told me that a gentleman had just tried his luck but got no further than knee depth before he was surrounded by them.

 

Hopes had risen, with winds now that much more south-ish, rather from the east/south east, which seems to be the direction most likely to drive the little blighters in.

 

This is getting serious.  And I’ve yet to meet any long-term regular who can recall a precedent – and in November of all months! 

 

The normal form is for the jellies to spoil things - albeit not this variety and in nowhere near such numbers - when the sea warms up a bit for a few short weeks at the height of summer. 

A SLIGHT CHANGE IN DIRECTION . . . 

 

STEPPING UP A GEAR: FOOTBALL LEGENDS’ LIFE STORIES TO SUPPORT CANCER RESEARCH

 

The outstanding success of Tommy Matthews’ book - £2,000-plus clear profit for Cancer Research UK in less than a fortnight – has encouraged me to switch my main writing focus from blog-ing to book-ing.

 

The books raise money for a great charity.  The blog, apart from occasionally promoting those books, doesn’t.

I have raised well over £20,000 in the ten years since I retired, writing and publishing 13 limited edition local nostalgia books and, latterly, Cornish footballer life stories.

 

But I’m now kicking myself because it could have been significantly more.

 

That is, I’m sure it would have been so if I’d had Tommy helping me push all these titles in the way he has with his own. He’s shown me, and reminded me, of little ways and means that can make a big difference in sales and marketing.

 

But then you’d expect that from a guy who is not just a great credit to the grand game of football but who was also a newspaper advertising manager in a previous life!

 

So here we go, then, with my “new direction,” namely two Cornish footballer projects under way simultaneously, with every penny profit going to Cancer Research.

 

I had already begun work on the Mark “Rappo” Rapsey sequel – Rappo’s World of Football Fun – and now another towering figure in Cornish soccer has joined the “club.”

 

Step forward Andy Street, one of the biggest names in South West non-League circles in the 1980s, ‘90s and early 2000s, principally with Falmouth Town and Newquay.

 

 

All told, Andy – “Sledge” to his team-mates – played in sides that bagged a massive haul of 30 trophies! He also captained Cornwall and won 114 county caps. 

 

His career also included spells with Nanpean Rovers, Bugle, Bodmin Town and St Blazey.  

 

Rappo’s sequel, meanwhile, has already begun to take shape nicely, and I can promise you a great many entertaining tales from that direction. And those are just the printable ones!

 

As bonus, I have signed up a retired professional illustrator to design the front cover for Rappo’s book in caricature style and to illustrate the chapters with appropriate cartoons.  

 

He’s Colin Pascoe, who by a very neat co-incidence is the son of Tommy Pascoe, who was Falmouth Town’s first skipper (and also a well-known Falmouth cricketer) when the club was reformed in the early 1950s.

  

So that’s how it all looks from here for the moment. Inevitably, my “new direction” will likely see me scaling back somewhat on my blog activity.

 

NO PROMISES, THOUGH  . . . 

 

ARTIST’S LOVE AFFAIR WITH CORNISH BEACHES KICKS SIRI INTO TOUCH

I said in my “Cornish Coastal Stunner” post on Wednesday that I had fallen in love with Jeanni Grant-Nelson’s painting the moment I saw it . . . and duly had to buy it.

My decision maybe smacked of emotion, and it turns out this could well have been the case.

 

As Jeanni, my Truro-based teacher and good friend of the past ten years, has now made clear.

 

I asked her to provide an insight or three by way of background to this particular painting, and she replied: “I tell my students – as I have always found myself – that if there is an emotion behind your art it is always so much better.   

 

“Somehow the viewer or purchaser of that art can tell the difference from a picture painted purely through Siri (digital assistance, artificial intelligence) and not love.”

 

Jeanni’s Mawgan Porth picture was “an active meditation” taking more than 40 hours, usually working 12 hours in total concentration.

 

By contrast, her en plein air paintings (painted all outdoors) need to be completed in one day and one mood to capture the feeling of a specific day rather than the details in their full glory.

 

During the summer months, Jeanni is busier teaching as well as painting and she has fewer opportunities to spend many hours concerned with copious amounts of detail.

 

“Once the season ends,” she says, “I always find it a joy to set myself a project where I can take a few days to create a realistic image of a favourite view.”  

 

Her latest painting – and it’s mine now, all mine! - was “an act of love” borne of a beach that has always been a big favourite of hers and her children. 

 

And Jeanni describes herself as fortunate three times over.  

 

“I love painting, I love teaching, and I love inspiring people to believe in themselves,” she explains. “So I am truly blessed to lead a lifestyle that allows me to do all three on a daily basis.”

 

For more about Jeanni and her paintings, events and courses, see https://www.visual-awareness.com

RIP ERIC DAWKINS

Sad to read of the death of Eric Dawkins, aged 94, a man who made an immense contribution to public life and who gave us so much “added value” with his penchant for entertaining with the unconventional.

Eric was town clerk with Falmouth, Penryn and Truro at various times between 1970 and 2003, with other posts in his long career including  Carrick District Council amenities officer.

 

He was also memorably the man at the helm of Falmouth’s St Nazaire commemorations for over 30 years, as recognised by Falmouth Town Council in 2017 - https://www.falmouthpacket.co.uk/news/15259093.eric-dawkins-recognised-again-for-his-dedication-to-st-nazaire-commemorations/

 

Eric has made so many appearances on my blog and in my various columns and books down the years that I really wouldn’t know where to begin right now. 

 

So here’s a couple of my favourites at random. He truly knew how to bring smiles to our faces.

 

TOWN CLERK’S ‘OUTRAGEOUS’ WAY OF MAKING MINUTES READABLE

 

Deservedly or otherwise, council minutes would probably be high up on most people’s lists of reading matter suitable for combatting insomnia.

 

There’s an exception to every rule, of course, and one man who managed to achieve the exact opposite was Falmouth and Penryn town clerk Eric Dawkins, who could even boast that his minutes once made a reporter jump out of his bed!

 

In an interview with him in 1986, he told me it had all been to do with his favourite trick of slipping in outrageously long and little-known words. 

 

I say “outrageously” because these words – or “Dawkinspeak”, as I christened them – were frequently beyond the comprehension of those for whom they were principally written – his councillors – let alone the public at large. 

 

As for that reporter who left his bed, Eric recalled: “He said he usually read council minutes in bed because they sent him to sleep, but when he read mine for the first time he leapt out of bed again to find his dictionary!”

 

Hardly surprising, really, if you had just read this: “A disputatious discussion on the sesquipedalian content of the draft notes for guidance ensued prior to the reconcilement on the utilisation of the budgetary allocation of . . . “

 

“Disputatious,” “reconcilement” and “utilisation” are straightforward enough in meaning, although magnificently supporting the “rule” that you should never use a short word where you can find a long one.

 

But you might well be stumped, as I was, by “sesquipedalian.” So Eric advised: “Use of words over a foot long . . . applying to long words.”  Well, yes, quite so!

 

Then, in the same minutes, came this mouthful: “During the ensuing discussion, it was the opinion that a delegation having a verisimilitude of hermeneutics should meet the county council highways committee chairman to clarify the situation.”

 

This time at least my dictionary came to my aid, as it had not done with “sesqui-etc”.  Verisimilitude: “The appearance or semblance of truth or reality.” Hermeneutics: “The science of interpretation.”

 

“I have achieved what I wanted,” Eric declared.  “People read my minutes.  Some of the council look at them specifically for these words!” 

 

It’s just a pity they so often couldn’t understand them, as per his last set of council minutes before the 1987 local elections, when his final phrases included “a disquisition of dissyllabic monomania” and “a display of noology to the perplexity of members.”

 

THE ‘SHEIKH’ WHO FOOLED THE MAYOR

 

The time is almost upon us for a fresh round of elaborate April Fools Day pranks, but they will have to go some to match one played on the then Mayor of Penryn, John Ashwin, in 1981.

 

In what can only be regarded as one of the great April Fools Day stunts of all time, John was a top-table guest at a Penryn Rotary Club lunch meeting in Falmouth’s Green Lawns Hotel. 

 

He found himself sitting beside another “guest,” in Arab headdress. He was introduced as Sheikh Muhammed Ali Aba Al Khaial, Minister for Finance and Economy in Saudi Arabia.

 

Club president Walter Trevena said a prolonged Muslim grace and, after a split vote the previous week, members had no alcohol with their meal. Their “Arab” guest chopped his lamb into tiny pieces . . . and ate a specially prepared dish of rice with his fingers.  Likewise the strawberry mousse.

 

An interpreter, it was explained, had been delayed on the way over from Newquay Airport, and the “Sheikh” had been brought in by Falmouth Town Clerk Eric Dawkins.

 

The former evidently had no idea what to do when everyone else stood up at the end of the meal for the loyal toast.  So much so that John Ashwin placed a glass in his hand and physically helped him out of his chair.

 

Afterwards, Eric drove the “Sheikh” away – to a nearby location where he took off the Arab headdress loaned by Falmouth’s Workshop Theatre and washed off his make-up.

 

David Woods, Helston Rotary Club member and actor, shook hands with Eric and reflected:  “It was the most uncanny feeling, knowing so many people and yet not being able to speak to any of them. I was received with great courtesy by everyone.”

 

Eric Dawkins later had a quiet word with John Ashwin . . .