Multiverse Stories and Cornwall I
Aug. 16th, 2006 07:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
selenakExploiting the landlord's pc while I can: as the multiverse stories authors have now been revealed, I'll post links to my two contributions:
Shore Leave (BSG/ST: TNG) - the request here was for Adama in any of the Star Trek universes. I didn't want to go for the obvious and let him end up on DS9. So I wondered what would be the best contrast while still providing unexpected points of connection, and suddenly felt inspired: clearly, he had to meet Lwaxana Troi...
Points of Transition: (B5/BSG): apologies for the typos. This one was written literaly at the last minute, i.e. pinch-hitting because Andraste was lacking one more story on the day the archive was opened. The request was Sinclair/Roslin; I only managed Sinclair & Roslin, but thought what they have in common at two particular points in their respective canons was interesting to point out.
*****
Now, on to yesterday's adventures:
Sunshine greeted us when we got up in Dartmoor, but before we had finished our breakfeast, it had turned cloudy; even worse, Lynda, our nice landlady, told us that the forecast for both Devon and Cornwall was cloudy for Tuesday and rainy for Wednesday. Which wasn’t exactly what we had hoped for, but determined optmists that we are, we started for Cornwall anyway.
Soon we left the motorway behind again, given that that the appeal of Cornwall lies solidly in the countryside. Or rather, coastside. This time, though, the country roads were so small that all parental driving and manoeuvring skills were asked for, and the side mirrors were pulled in a couple of times. (Mind you, we could have taken my car, which is much smaller, but then we wouldn’t have had the fabulous navigation system.) Anyway, we made good progress, and arrived in Polperro before most English tourists did, the English being somehow disinclined to show up anywhere before 10 am. In Polruan and Looe, towns we had passed through before Polperro, hardly anyone Cornish was visible, either. All three towns were downright mediterranean in looks, build in bays forming natural harbours as they were, with small alleys winding up to the cliffs and houses that looked as if they had grown out of said cliffs. Plus flowers everywhere, again on the lantern posts and in front of windows. In order to avoid a traffic collapse, most of these towns didn’t allow cars (of visitors) in their old centre, which we didn’t mind a bit – it both improved the view and gave us the chance to stretch our legs, more than welcome if you’re driving all the time. Like many a place in Cornwall, Polperro made much of its smuggling heritage, which put the age-of-sail glitter back in the AP’s bedazzled eyes, and he sighed, longingly, “pirates”. (Alas, he dislikes poor Johnny Depp, and so can’t be bothered to watch POTC, before anyone asks.)
Cornwall’s dark cliffs contrasted with the green-blue sea and the clouds mixed with sunbeams in teh sky looks every bit as stunning as its reputation suggests. On those occasions where we had to leave the coast behind for a while, I noticed the fields were much smaller than in England, and I remembered that by and large, people in Cornwall were supposed to be poor. I wondered whether there was a different law of inheritance at the root of it originally?
Bodinnik and Fowley, two towns which proudly declare themselves to be “Daphne du Maurier Country” as she lived there and used their locations for several of her novels, are connected through a ferry, and this time my father didn’t mind queuing and waiting, as it gave him the opportunity to have his car standing in the middle of one of said small roads with all the legitimacy of the world and to take pictures of the harbour. Sadly, we had to pass through both otherwise; there wasn’t time for an excursion to Menalilly, du Maurier’s model for Manderly of Rebecca fame – too many other places on the schedule.
After another quick photo taking Stopp in Maevagissy we visited a truly gigantic park which amazingly is still privately owned – the Lost Gardens of Heligan, which belong to the Tremayne family. I’m not kidding about the “gigantic”. About two kilometres in length and five kilometres in width. (Which reminds me, what’s up with all this “miles” and “yards” stuff, British people? I thought you had gone metric when you joined the EU?) One enormous collection of individual guardes which even contains an area consisting exclusively of jungle plants. We’re not just talking palm trees there – there are actually a lot of those in Cornwall. Bamboo trees and the entire enchilada. Fascinating.
Next we were due for National Trust property again; Kynace’s Cove and Lizard’s Point, both located on the Lizard peninsula. Kynace’s Cove starts out as a windswept heath, and then you climb down and find this completely sheltered beach, with the cliffs keeping all the wind away, and the temperature at least five degrees warmer. Dad & self immediately longed to join the various swimmers. The sand was much darker than on the North Sea beaches I was used to, and the cliffs really pitch black; we followed some other people inside one of the caves and soon didn’t see anything anymore except with the help of Dad’s flashlight.
Lizard’s Point is the most southern point of the peninsula and in fact the most southern point of Britain. One could walk from Kynace’s Cove – if one has the time for a six kilometre walk, that is. (Note to self: holidays in Cornwall looking better all the time.) As it is, we went by car but were regarded with the sight of a mirror-smooth ocean and some seals at a distance anyway. Also seen at a distance were dark clouds and rain pouring down, but thankfully said rain stayed the hell away from us (so far).
Back we went to the countryside, to our shelter for the night, another former mill, gone B&B, a bit away from the Cornish capital Truro, in a village called Ladock – Old Bissik’s Mill. The owner, Patrick, was another jewel of British hospitality and presented two exhausted travellers with tea, which was just the thing after a long day. He also handed over his computer to me, which I’ll be eternally grateful for. Who knows when I’ll be able to get online again?
Next on the schedule: Tintagel!
Shore Leave (BSG/ST: TNG) - the request here was for Adama in any of the Star Trek universes. I didn't want to go for the obvious and let him end up on DS9. So I wondered what would be the best contrast while still providing unexpected points of connection, and suddenly felt inspired: clearly, he had to meet Lwaxana Troi...
Points of Transition: (B5/BSG): apologies for the typos. This one was written literaly at the last minute, i.e. pinch-hitting because Andraste was lacking one more story on the day the archive was opened. The request was Sinclair/Roslin; I only managed Sinclair & Roslin, but thought what they have in common at two particular points in their respective canons was interesting to point out.
*****
Now, on to yesterday's adventures:
Sunshine greeted us when we got up in Dartmoor, but before we had finished our breakfeast, it had turned cloudy; even worse, Lynda, our nice landlady, told us that the forecast for both Devon and Cornwall was cloudy for Tuesday and rainy for Wednesday. Which wasn’t exactly what we had hoped for, but determined optmists that we are, we started for Cornwall anyway.
Soon we left the motorway behind again, given that that the appeal of Cornwall lies solidly in the countryside. Or rather, coastside. This time, though, the country roads were so small that all parental driving and manoeuvring skills were asked for, and the side mirrors were pulled in a couple of times. (Mind you, we could have taken my car, which is much smaller, but then we wouldn’t have had the fabulous navigation system.) Anyway, we made good progress, and arrived in Polperro before most English tourists did, the English being somehow disinclined to show up anywhere before 10 am. In Polruan and Looe, towns we had passed through before Polperro, hardly anyone Cornish was visible, either. All three towns were downright mediterranean in looks, build in bays forming natural harbours as they were, with small alleys winding up to the cliffs and houses that looked as if they had grown out of said cliffs. Plus flowers everywhere, again on the lantern posts and in front of windows. In order to avoid a traffic collapse, most of these towns didn’t allow cars (of visitors) in their old centre, which we didn’t mind a bit – it both improved the view and gave us the chance to stretch our legs, more than welcome if you’re driving all the time. Like many a place in Cornwall, Polperro made much of its smuggling heritage, which put the age-of-sail glitter back in the AP’s bedazzled eyes, and he sighed, longingly, “pirates”. (Alas, he dislikes poor Johnny Depp, and so can’t be bothered to watch POTC, before anyone asks.)
Cornwall’s dark cliffs contrasted with the green-blue sea and the clouds mixed with sunbeams in teh sky looks every bit as stunning as its reputation suggests. On those occasions where we had to leave the coast behind for a while, I noticed the fields were much smaller than in England, and I remembered that by and large, people in Cornwall were supposed to be poor. I wondered whether there was a different law of inheritance at the root of it originally?
Bodinnik and Fowley, two towns which proudly declare themselves to be “Daphne du Maurier Country” as she lived there and used their locations for several of her novels, are connected through a ferry, and this time my father didn’t mind queuing and waiting, as it gave him the opportunity to have his car standing in the middle of one of said small roads with all the legitimacy of the world and to take pictures of the harbour. Sadly, we had to pass through both otherwise; there wasn’t time for an excursion to Menalilly, du Maurier’s model for Manderly of Rebecca fame – too many other places on the schedule.
After another quick photo taking Stopp in Maevagissy we visited a truly gigantic park which amazingly is still privately owned – the Lost Gardens of Heligan, which belong to the Tremayne family. I’m not kidding about the “gigantic”. About two kilometres in length and five kilometres in width. (Which reminds me, what’s up with all this “miles” and “yards” stuff, British people? I thought you had gone metric when you joined the EU?) One enormous collection of individual guardes which even contains an area consisting exclusively of jungle plants. We’re not just talking palm trees there – there are actually a lot of those in Cornwall. Bamboo trees and the entire enchilada. Fascinating.
Next we were due for National Trust property again; Kynace’s Cove and Lizard’s Point, both located on the Lizard peninsula. Kynace’s Cove starts out as a windswept heath, and then you climb down and find this completely sheltered beach, with the cliffs keeping all the wind away, and the temperature at least five degrees warmer. Dad & self immediately longed to join the various swimmers. The sand was much darker than on the North Sea beaches I was used to, and the cliffs really pitch black; we followed some other people inside one of the caves and soon didn’t see anything anymore except with the help of Dad’s flashlight.
Lizard’s Point is the most southern point of the peninsula and in fact the most southern point of Britain. One could walk from Kynace’s Cove – if one has the time for a six kilometre walk, that is. (Note to self: holidays in Cornwall looking better all the time.) As it is, we went by car but were regarded with the sight of a mirror-smooth ocean and some seals at a distance anyway. Also seen at a distance were dark clouds and rain pouring down, but thankfully said rain stayed the hell away from us (so far).
Back we went to the countryside, to our shelter for the night, another former mill, gone B&B, a bit away from the Cornish capital Truro, in a village called Ladock – Old Bissik’s Mill. The owner, Patrick, was another jewel of British hospitality and presented two exhausted travellers with tea, which was just the thing after a long day. He also handed over his computer to me, which I’ll be eternally grateful for. Who knows when I’ll be able to get online again?
Next on the schedule: Tintagel!
