WEEKEND BREAK (23)

FLOATING A POSSIBILITY: ‘BEST-EVER’ CARNIVAL NEXT MONTH?

 

My mention of carnival queens last week prompted a fresh look at the Falmouth Carnival scene and I see this year’s event, on August 9, is going to be something of a landmark job.

 

The big parade will see the return of float entries – decorated platforms on vehicles or towed on trailers behind them – after an absence of 20 years.

 

Their return should reinforce its reputation as “the biggest, happiest, brightest, jolliest, noisiest, gayest, liveliest and most popular carnival of them all.”

 

Or that’s the description in a delightful black and white Pathe News-style video on Falmouth Carnival’s website, anyway.

 

And it must be true because it’s delivered, it seems, with all the authority of none other than Bob Danvers-Walker. 

 

Bob was famously known as the voice of Pathe’s cinema newsreels during the Second World War and for many years afterwards.     

 

There’s just one snag – Bob died in 1990.  

 

So either the carnival organisers have discovered an invaluable bit of footage buried deep in the archives (but the footage strongly suggests a more recent recording!) or they have hired one of several very impressive soundalike voiceover artists now available.

 

Either way, if you haven’t already seen it, take a look. It’s really good and makes you feel proud,  seriously, of one of Falmouth’s great long-established summer highlights.

 

When they come to reflect on this year’s big show, it’s even possible, I guess, that the organisers might just be declaring it the town’s “best-ever.”

 

That was the verdict – at least once! – back in the day when Yours Truly used to cover it.

 

I’m recalling the late 1960s when I was in my first stint on the Falmouth Packet, then still a broadsheet, and we would serve up full coverage – I repeat “full coverage” – with anything up to a thousand words of a report, excluding the complete set of results.

 

There would also be full caption details beside a page or more of pics taken by a staff photographer (those were the days!).

 

Typically, I would start my coverage by joining the participants’ throng at the Recreation Ground, chatting to a goodly number of them as they put the finishing touches to their entries.

 

Then I would move out to Killigrew Street to see the start of the parade . . . before shooting across town to either Arwenack Street/Grove Place and/or the seafront for the final stages.

 

Then, on the Sunday morning, I would join the organisers for their reflections and updates.  The likes of Chris Powdrill (Packet printer)  and Arthur Pankhurst (customs launch Mongoose) spring to mind.  

 

They would still be counting the contents of all those collecting tins and, yes, the event was declared “the best-ever” at least once! 

 

I loved it – with just one wee exception.  More than once, as I stood at the roadside with the procession filing past, a voice would cry out “Hi Mike, all right?”

 

Cue worst fear realised. The voice would be familiar, but I was blowed if I could put a name to it – even after the guy concerned had briefly removed his/her mask or whatever and declared: “It’s ME, Mike.”

 

Hence my giveaway response: “Ah, hello THERE, all right?”  

 

And that was long before I had even heard of “senior moments”, let alone come to suffer them almost daily.  

 

But it was all part of the fun!

 

 

FORTY UP FOR JAMES!

 

They say an excellent pointer to the quality of a hotel is the length of service of its employees.

 

In a sector more notable for its high turnover of staff, Falmouth’s Royal Duchy need have no worries on that score.

 

And congratulations in particular to James Pellow, doorman and concierge, who has just clocked up 40 years with the hotel. 

 

He leads a goodly number of loyal long-servers in the Duchy service stakes – with seven of his colleagues having together clocked up more than 200 years there. 

 

There surely can’t be many, if any, other Cornish hotels that can boast such statistics. 

 

 

Do NOT Try This ‘At Home!’

 

My mention of walking in my carnival piece above brought me in a roundabout way back to a remarkable piece of footage I first saw on Facebook some ten years ago.

 

I count myself lucky that I could still easily take part in the Falmouth Carnival, asa walker, if I so wished (I don't, thank you!).  

 

I can still very easily do four, five or six miles a day, which I reckon is not too bad, given that this old feller is now nearer 80 than 70.     

 

Mind you, I have begun to be overtaken occasionally . . . and my treks are taking that little bit longer. 

 

And I very much doubt if I will ever again attempt something I last did a few years ago now, which almost killed me (or so it felt) even then – namely, to climb UP Falmouth’s Jacob’s Ladder two steps at a time, all 111 of them!

 

But the one thing I would never have dreamed of doing, even in my prime, would be to CYCLE down that Ladder.

 

It’s been done, at least once, as this video clip shows.  Hold on to your hats:-- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qy5OehnXe2w

  

 

You CAN Believe What You Read In The Media!

 

According to The Times, Falmouth is the best coastal town to live in the

UK:-- 

 

https://www.falmouthpacket.co.uk/news/25302169.times-falmouth-best-coastal-town-live-uk/

 

 

HAIRY QUESTION

 

It’s nice to put one over on a youngster occasionally . . . 

 

I’ve always had trouble remembering whether it’s sideboards or sideburns – those strips of hair beside my ears.

 

I was having my hair cut recently by a young hairdresser who was clearly relatively new to her trade.

 

It came to those two aforementioned features and I had no choice but to confess my difficulty thus: “I never remember whether it’s sideboards or sideburns.”

 

There was a pause, followed by the young lady hesitantly pointing to them, as if she hadn't even heard of such a thing, and asking: “What . . . you mean these things here?”

 

Seems I knew a thing or two more about hair than she did!  (And either “side-” word will apply, apparently.)

 

 

What DO They Take Us For . . . ?

 

C’mon now, can there have been a bigger collective laugh across the nation this week than the one for this prize quote from the Treasury: “We are a pro-business government.”

 

 

FROM THE ARCHIVE . . . 

 

Like any long-standing annual big event involving thousands of participants and spectators, Falmouth Carnival has known occasional controversy.

 

Here’s one bit o’ bovver that caused a stir with a new attraction in the week leading up to the big parade back in 1976, from my blog first published in 2017:--

 

 . . . you might have witnessed a new spectacle with the first-ever waitresses’ race along the seafront.

 

This proved a tad controversial, with at least two competitors disqualified, according to the Falmouth Packet, “for running with their glasses, bottles and trays clutched tightly to their bosoms.”

 

And a Packet reader’s letter from M Winter, of the Green Lawns Hotel, complained: “As far as Falmouth is concerned, we would be better to save the expense, rather than waste time bending over backwards to make ourselves and the town a laughing stock.

 

“It was not advertised as an open race . . . only one waitress walked the quarter of a mile with a bottle, glass and tray carried in the manner one would expect in such a race.”

 

Fortunately, it wasn’t all aggro.  The race was part of Falmouth Carnival Week, which was opened by Westward Television personality Ken Macleod.  He described Cherry Pritchard as “the most beautiful carnival queen I have ever seen.” 

WEEKEND BREAK (22)

HOW A SWEDISH BEAUTY HELPED SELL FALMOUTH

 

Project Declutter at Truscott Towers is proceeding apace (or even at pace, as our current “leaders” like to say).  

 

And just look at what I turned up this week:--

 

It’s a dusty old copy of the official Falmouth Holiday Guide for 1967 and it immediately had me wondering: just who was the lovely young lady gracing the cover?

 

Didn’t recognise her at all.  Certainly wasn’t Cherry Pritchard, described around that time as “the most beautiful carnival queen I have ever seen” by Westward TV personality Ken Macleod.* 

 

Nope, Cherry was dark-haired.

 

Nor was it Dawn Philpott, another well-known carnival queen from that era. Dawn was emphatically shorter.  

 

No, it turned out that Falmouth resort manager Ron Smith, ever the  unconventional, had turned to Scandinavia for help in wooing our visitors.    

 

For, tucked inside my copy of the guide, a West Briton cutting from January of that year reveals the cover girl’s identity as none other than 22-year-old Asa Thylin, of Granitvagen in Sweden. 

 

She had apparently spent her previous summer holiday with Lesley Jewell, of Mabe, the pair having become pen friends when Lesley was at Falmouth County High School.

 

The Briton described the guide as “the brightest Falmouth has ever produced” and explained that Asa had been spotted on the rocks at Swanpool Beach when Ron and his unnamed cameraman had been “out looking for attractive pictures” for the publication.

 

Beneath a “Welcome To Falmouth” message from Mayor Sam Hooper on the inside front cover, it was explained that a nominal charge of 9d (4p) was requested for the guide as “the postage alone amounts to 7d” (3p).  

 

Further inside, an advert for the Caludon, one of several hotels long since disappeared from the seafront scene, highlighted its “electric fires in all bedrooms” and “separate tables in dining room.”

 

* Ken Macleod was one of the three original presenters on Westward Diary for Westward Television, which was the first ITV franchise holder for South West England, from 1961-81.  See also FROM THE ARCHIVE, ITV TAKES THE TRAIN INTO TOWN, below.  

 

 

I HOPE YOU REMEMBERED . . . 

 

. . . to say “White Rabbits” this week, at the start of the new month, for good luck.

 

You know the rules:  it’s the first thing you say when you wake up at whatever time past midnight.  But no cheating, no waiting up, staying awake to say it as soon as the new day arrives.

 

As a gold-standard superstitious Cornishman, I naturally remembered when I woke up on Tuesday morning – just as I have done every month now for 34 years, no kidding.

 

I will never forget the last time I forgot. It was end-March, 1991, and I was in the middle of a two-week assignment in Belgium for Lloyd’s List.

 

Yes, I FORGOT. Result?  I found myself temporarily stranded in that country with the collapse of the Air Europe airline!

 

Clear proof, if such were needed, of the vital importance of those two magic words, uttered at the right time . . . 

 

 

SCORING WITH THE CLICHES

 

It’s started up already.  Truro City “are delighted to announce . . . .” the signing of a new player.  Clubs are always “delighted to announce”. 

 

Oh for a bit of variety!

 

But no, Truro currently have no fewer than three “delighted to announce’s” on their website home page, reporting contract signings for the new season. 

 

Any day now you will also start to see clubs declaring that “there’s a real buzz about the place” in the build-up to the new season.

 

For many, the mood won’t last long. Far from being “over the moon,” they are more likely to revert to being “sick as parrots!” 

 

 

BROKEN BRITAIN

 

PA announcement on Truro Station this morning: “We regret to announce that the 0854 service to London Paddington has been cancelled “due to more trains than usual being repaired.”

 

Not heard that one before!

 

 

WHEN POSITIVE THINKING DIDN’T WORK FOR RAPPO

 

I mentioned recently how a former (mature) PR student of mine, Colin Edwards, had turned tutor, teaching me much about sales and marketing and, more broadly, about positive thinking for life itself.

 

The latter gospel included the great value of employing positive rather than negative language in your thoughts - “accentuate the positive.” 

For instance, “I am returning to full fitness,” not “I am recovering from illness.”

 

The idea is that your thoughts will brief your sub-conscious, which will in turn create your state. So we wouldn’t want “illness” to play any part in your sub-conscious.

 

Another “rule” was to visualise, as clearly as possible - see it, hear it, feel it, smell it - your desired outcome.  By so doing – same principle as above, really – you would make it that much more likely to become reality, a self-fulfilling prophesy.

 

That doesn’t always work, though, and someone who can testify to that fact is Cornish footballing legend Mark “Rappo” Rapsey.

 

See what I mean with this extract from his memoir IT’S A RAP, recalling his chance to seal victory in a cup final against St Blazey at Truro in 1991:

 

Three minutes into injury time, I was suddenly clear, with the goalkeeper coming out to meet me. 

 

It was a favourite finishing scenario of mine.  The ball was still bouncing nicely for me and begging to be lobbed over goalkeeper Steve Nute and into the net.  

 

In my head, I was actually already celebrating – I could see the headlines (no kidding).  Only snag, my lob hit the bar and bounced safely behind the goal! 

 

If they get the equalizer now, I thought, I will never live it down; I will blame myself forever.  I felt certain that if it went to extra time, St Blazey would win it.  

 

But it didn’t, and when the ref finally blew for time, I fell to my knees with relief.

 

 

MY PROBLEM WITH ‘NO PROBLEM’ 

 

Talking, as I was above, of “accentuating the positive,” and where possible avoiding negative words, if there’s one term I wish we could eliminate it would be “no problem,” at least in the hospitality industry. 

 

Surely – surely – “you’re welcome” would be so much better, wouldn’t it? And a whole lot more meaningful.

 

    

FROM THE ARCHIVE . . . 

 

Extract from my book, “Falmouth In The ‘60s”:--

 

ITV TAKES THE TRAIN INTO TOWN

 

A critic’s daily review recently began with the phrase “In this age of too much TV.”  It would be hard to argue with that. At the last count, there were just short of 500 linear television channels (traditional, scheduled broadcasting) in the UK alone, available through a variety of providers.    Back in early 1961, the total number of TV channels in Britain was all of two (both terrestrial) and Cornwall was still awaiting its first regional commercial station, but things were about to change . . . 

 

For “the train now arriving” at Falmouth Station (these days the Docks Station) on Tuesday, February 14, 1961, was a very special one – one like no other seen there before or since.  It heralded a giant publicity campaign for the launch of Westward Television, bringing the age of independent TV to the Westcountry.  The trailblazing company had hired an entire train from the Western Region of British Railways and had it completely refitted as a travelling exhibition.  Nearly 5,000 local people stepped aboard the train at the Falmouth station, with CCTV enabling many of them to enjoy the novelty of seeing and hearing themselves on TV screens dotted around the train.  Their interviewer was one of the best-known radio personalities of the time, appropriately named Jack Train, of ITMA (It’s That Man Again) and Twenty Questions fame.  The special train, repainted in Westward’s distinctive blue and white colours and with the company name prominently lettered on the side, was pulled by the renowned locomotive City of Truro, the first steam locomotive to travel at more than 100 miles per hour.

 

The six coaches housed a 36-seat cinema and exhibition area, a fully operational TV studio, generating van and three coaches in which manufacturers showed off the latest in TV equipment.  The train had stood at Olympia Station, London, for two days prior to travelling to Truro, where it began its six-week tour of the Westward area – Devon, Cornwall and parts of Somerset and Dorset.  The tour had 23 stops, each involving a ceremony performed by the local Mayor or other civic dignitary and giving visitors a foretaste of what they could expect when the new broadcasting station opened in April (at the start of a franchise that would run for more than 20 years).  In all, several hundred thousand people reportedly filed through the exhibition train during its tour. 

 

Westward took to the air for real on April 29, transmitting from its brand new purpose-built HQ, described as “imposing,” in Derry’s Cross in the heart of Plymouth city centre. A major advertising campaign included the line: “Look Westward – for the clearest ITV picture you have ever seen.” It trumpeted three of its highest-profile presenters in Sheila Kennedy (who I can still clearly recall seeing, accompanied by Gus Honeybun, on my parents’ little black and white TV screen), Guy Cory, former Battle of Britain pilot, and “the lovely” Jane Fyffe.  Gus was the station mascot for Westward, and later Television South West, from 1961 to 1992. 

 

The Rt Hon Lord Mayor of London, Sir Bernard Waley-Cohen, “launched” the train at Olympia. At Falmouth, it was the turn of the town’s Mayor, Alderman W E Cavill. The train closed at 9 pm, but many of the visitors stayed on for the sight – within the hour – of the City of Truro steaming into action once more as she hauled the train away bound for its next stop, Camborne. 

WEEKEND BREAK (21)

From The Archive. See bottom item for today: How Bond Girl Explained Her Golden Touch

 

 

FEEL-GOOD PIC No 1

 

"CRISIS?  WHAT CRISIS?"  

 

The world may have been holding its breath these past few weeks, but this little boy for one has been totally untroubled by it all.

 

He could even have been doing my favourite trick of falling asleep while trying to read a book.  Or perhaps the distant views of Dartmoor were just too hypnotic. 

 

Whatever, I couldn’t resist making him the subject of my latest painting, just completed, from a photo by Alec Evans.  

 

After my bigger than usual last one (31 x 21ins), I fancied a "little cutie" this time with this 8 x 8ins acrylic. Credit as always to my teacher, the one and only Jeanni Grant-Nelson, https://www.visual-awareness.com.

 

 

FEEL-GOOD PIC No 2

 

My beautiful grandson's idea of helping with this morning’s shopping!

 

 EMMA THOMPSON HAS GIVEN ME AN IDEA . . . 

 

Emma Thompson has reportedly suggested that sex should be recommended by the NHS.

 

“You need sex because it’s part of our health plan, if you like,” she was quoted as saying. “It should really be on the NHS. It should; it’s so good for you!”

 

Okay . . . I’ve re-read that several times and convinced myself there’s only the one possible interpretation. “ON” the NHS?  So yes, taxpayer-funded sex free “at the point of delivery!”

 

Which leads me irresistibly on to the fact that our Emma is in fact 50-odd years behind me with this idea.  And yes, you read that correctly, too.

 

In the early 1970s, I had to down tools for purposes of an NUJ strike. I was working Oop North as a reporter on the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

 

Which meant that I was pretty much alone in the daytime with little to do other than twiddle my thumbs, there being no lovely Cornish beaches and clifftop walks close by.

 

So I came up with an idea and duly wrote a novel – SEX ON THE STATE. 

 

Title clear enough, I hope?  

 

Yes, you could call up your sex, whenever your need arose, from Government-appointed providers. 

 

Of course I hadn’t thought the idea anything like entirely through, but I tackled it with relish nonetheless.

 

I naturally gave full vent to descriptive powers borne of my testosterone-fuelled youth and very nobly pointed out its manifold benefits – not only for the participants per se but also by reducing humankind’s frustrations and thus the risk of sex crimes. (Ergo, on balance, “fundable!”)

 

Alas, the strike came to an end and I never progressed that novel, never sought a publisher.

 

But in all probability I still have it in my possession somewhere. 

 

Maybe I should find it, dust it down and finally see where I can get with it – now that I can exploit the marketing value of a famous name endorsing the concept!

 

(Or maybe not.)

 

 

HOW TIMES CHANGE

 

It’s hard to imagine now, with all the present-day kerfuffle over pronouns and genders, but nearly 40 years ago I witnessed a delightful little episode borne of another ground-breaking change in attitudes. 

 

It was indeed big then, but small beer compared with today’s confusing I/D issues.

 

I was at Land’s End for some form of reception, shortly after Peter de Savary had bought up the place, and we were all queuing up to  introduce ourselves to the great man.

 

I couldn’t help noticing how the guy immediately in front of me was shuffling about very uncomfortably.

 

It became apparent why when it was his turn to introduce himself and his lady companion.  

 

“I’m ------ -------- ,” he said, “and this is my, er” – more shuffling and acutely uncomfortable expression – “er, umm . . . my PARTNER.”

 

The term then, for personal relationship purposes, was still very much in its infancy.

 

Behind me was Douglas Williams, West Cornwall district reporter for the Western Morning News and very much old school. 

 

After Janet and I had moved on, he proudly announced, in a voice so loud it might even have been heard beyond the famous cliffs outside:  “ . . . and this is my WIFE!!”

 

 

TESCO VALUE!  

 

We finally binned our Christmas poinsettia this week.  (Janet: “It doesn’t normally last beyond January!”)

 

A fiver well spent, I reckon.

 

 

UPSIDE DOWN JOURNALISM

 

I’m still regularly amused by the lengths to which our local news outlets will go in pursuit of Clickbait – the practice of delaying key details for as long as possible in their “reports,” in order to maximise traffic and boost advertising potential.

 

It’s the very opposite of what we were taught back in the day, employing the sliding scale of news value.

 

In other words, you win your readers by creating the strongest possible intro, followed by the next most newsworthy bit, and so on and so on.

 

In the process, the modern way of writing – “upside down journalism,” as my fellow blogger John Marquis coined it - throws up some hilarious teasers.

 

But for my money there is still nothing to quite match one from several years ago – and I forget which site it was now, CornwallLive or the Packet – which referred in its headline to “a Cornish city.”

 

You could just imagine all those readers clicking away to find out which Cornish city, couldn’t you.

 

Well, all those who may not have known that there is only one Cornish city, of course! 

 

A close second was a Packet report, again from several years ago, which headlined something like “At Last – Key Decision in Planning Saga.”

 

Readers wanting to know what the, er, decision actually was had to wade through fully 600 words or more of council chamber waffle and recap for the answer . . . in the very last line!

 

 

THICK BLACK PLUMES OF SMOKE IN SKY OVER CORNISH PORT TOWN 

 

That was a headline on CornwallLive one day last week.  

 

“Cornish port town,” eh?  That’s a new one, isn’t it. Why can’t they just say Fowey, for goodness sake? (Well, we know now, don’t we – see above piece!)

 

Has a great ring to it, doesn’ it – “Cornish port town?”  Rolls off the tongue so well, the sort of phrase you hear in everyday conversation.

 

Not.

 

 

FROM THE ARCHIVE . . . 

 

My umpteenth viewing of Goldfinger the other day reminded me how I once got the answer to one of the most frequently-asked questions of a “Bond girl.”  Here it is again, from a blog piece I originally published in August, 2017:--

 

HOW BOND GIRL EXPLAINED HER GOLDEN TOUCH

 

As PR man for Helston Garages, I had put out several press releases previewing the company’s 40^th anniversary celebration party (in October, 2000).  Without naming names, I promised that one of the best-known Bond girls of them all would be joining the guests.

 

“And they were not to be disappointed,” I subsequently wrote, “for in swept Shirley Eaton, the actress who famously met a gleaming death by being covered in gold paint in the film Goldfinger.”

 

I couldn’t resist asking her how it was done, referring to that scene where she gave new meaning to a golden all-over “tan.”

 

She replied: “Do you know how many times I have been asked that question over the last 30 years or so?”

 

I persisted: “Was it you or did they use a double?”

 

Shirley gave me a look of mock horror and declared: “You’re not seriously suggesting they could have found someone else so beautiful, are you?”

 

“Okay, okay, but how WAS it done?” I probed, suggesting that, long before the days of CGI, she had maybe at least worn some sort of golden body stocking.

 

“Absolutely not,” she insisted, “and nor did I have the paint sprayed all over me from a can, as a lot of people have suggested.

 

“I was literally painted with a beautiful wide thick sable brush.  It was a very thick, gooey make-up with millions of gold particles and it was very uncomfortable.  Getting it off again was a matter of just scrubbing and scrubbing – and that made my skin very pink!”

 

Then she added: “I had to go through the whole process twice because there were two shots – one where you first see me dead and then the other, close-up, where Sean (Connery) feels for my pulse and pronounces me dead.”

 

So Shirley didn’t even need 15 minutes to make her famous. As she said: “I was only in Goldfinger for five minutes, but it made me internationally known – that just shows what a funny old business it is.”