The Harbour

The Harbour

   Here are the cast of characters: Colin and Lizzie, Erik and Ashley, Joyce and Ray, Andreas, Dave, Columb, and two bulldogs, along with a mishmash pile of extras, from wild haircuts to tattooed heads.  But all have played starring roles in our journey back to the coast of England.

   Let's start with our hosts, two transplants from Manchester who, after a divorce on one end and a renewed love on the other, decided to search together for something new.  "Would you ever fancy running a holiday accommodation?," she asked.  He nodded, she looked, and here they were, two years into the next chapter of their lives, running a B&B on the outskirts of Newquay in a little town called Porth (which happens to be the town where my wife spent a good portion of her childhood, going to school here and making close friends at the age of ten).  Their purchase of the Kalacliff Hotel with eight rooms is far from what I would think of as a leisurely new beginning; but one discovery we are making here is that this return to this area has shown us that "new beginnings" are the norm here for many, both young and old.

   At the Harbour Hotel at the other end of town, chef Erik and his spunky cohort, Ashley, were quick to give us hugs and lively conversation as if we were both old mates venturing   in for a surprise visit.  So when a real mate arrived and Erik began spouting off a special meal he would cook for him, fresh dover sole with a light butter/watercress/cream sauce, our NSA American ears overheard him and jumped on it, which only made him laugh, have him tell us his schedule (despite his being there for 12 hours, and due back in another 12, and having 2 children at home) and promise my wife he would make her a special lamb dinner, cooked on the bone, pressed, and presented medium rare as requested (despite all the sheep one sees in fields as you ride the buses, lamb is rarely offered on restaurant menus due to its high costs, most of the lamb being raised for exporting to other countries). Ashley, a perky tiny blonde from Australia who you just want to pack up and take home since she's so cheery, was right alongside Erik in her welcoming warmth, remembering   both of our names when we showed up a few days later.  Her journey, like that of Andreas' (who came from Madrid, jumped to London to learn "bad" English, as he put it, thus his move to this small town of Newquay to learn "good" English) showed the willingness, courage and ambition so prevalent in many of today's young, at least those whom we've had the pleasure to encounter during our travels.  Quite the jump, from Australia to England, or to come to a country without knowing the language.  And both still had the joy of life bursting through their skins, ready for more.

   Then there's Joyce and Ray, two youngsters in their 70s, married 53 years and deliciously in love with both food and each other.  We somehow kept running into them on the buses, even as the days passed and the destinations grew further and further apart.  Their son-in-law long ago suffered a stroke just 6 weeks shy of his wedding date, a stroke serious enough to end his work, but not his love for his wife (yes, they are still married).  Turns out he had no family history of strokes and was simply having a pint at the pub when he just collapsed.  All of it made me think, not only of how lucky each of us are in our lives, but how quickly things can change, even when the happiest days of our lives are so close at hand.

   It's something we should all think about, that of enjoying the moments, the travels, the pubs, the people, for folks everywhere have a story, ones happy to share and ones full of life, and it all could change as quickly as the next refill of the glass.  Or the bulldogs, which happen to decorate our welcomes as we return each evening.  And isn't that all that one wants, to come home to a nice greeting, full of pleasant and new memories and friends and simply hoping for another day to do it all again.  As they say here, over and over, and appropriately so, cheers.