A couple of days ago, it was the Fourth of July -- American Independence Day. I wasn't able to blog on it at the time as our internet connection went down and we only got it back this morning.
So, I hear you ask, what did you, an English family in North Carolina, do on Independence Day?
The answer is that it took us a while to get with the programme. At
Thanksgiving, we were invited to partake by an American family, but for this public holiday we were left to our own devices. We could see that all the shops started selling fireworks and firework vendors began to crop up on various street corners. Apart from this, not much else seemed to be happening and we were too pre-occupied with the World Cup (what with the first of the semi-finals being on the fourth of July) to look into attending an organised event. I was only really made aware of the occasion because some businesses seemed to be closed for the day.
We spent the morning pottering at home, then the afternoon watching the
Germany-Italy match. After the match, we went to the pool which was open despite it being a public holiday. There was not much special there either, except that someone said that there were various families planning to set off fireworks that evening.
That evening, after dinner, we decided to go for a walk around the neighbourhood to see if we can spot any fireworks.
In the UK, there are two main celebrations that are associated with fireworks, both of which occur in the winter. One is New Year and the other is Guy Fawkes. People tend to celebrate Guy Fawkes in one of two ways. The first way is to attend a public event -- an organised fireworks display that one would pay an entrance fee to attend. Such an event usually takes place in a field with a few hot dog/burger stands dotted around the edges. Children hold sparklers and such an event should be a lovely festival-like atmosphere. However, I always found that standing around in a muddy field, in the rain, feeling cold always took the edge off it for me. As a result, we always favoured the second method of enjoying
Guy Fawkes, which is to get some beer in, invite a few friends over, fire up the barbecue and set off some fireworks in the back garden.
We expected that firework parties here would be similar private affairs, which to some extent they were. However, there was also a real community feel about it, similar to the feeling I got walking around the neighbourhood at
Halloween. Many families were setting off fireworks on their front drive. This is probably because many of the back gardens on this estate are wooded and/or have no back lawns or patios. As we walked past, people would greet us with a "Happy July Fourth", which is how most people around here seem to refer to the festival.
There were also what seemed to be impromptu gatherings in the middle of the street, such that approaching cars would have to turn around and head back the way they had come. People would just bring our some folding chairs, some beer and some fireworks. Then they'd just take it in turns setting off their fireworks. There was one particular crossroads with a particularly large gathering. The entire occasion had turned into a street party.
My only concern was the lackadaisical attitude to safety. People thought nothing of going and lighting fireworks that were right next to already lit fireworks. I also saw many young children lighting fireworks with little adult supervision.
All in all, it was a lovely warm summers evening with the air filled with that smoky smell of fireworks that we all love.
After a couple of days with Mark's sister, we drove the 266 miles to Cornwall. Cornwall is in the south-west of England. The Cornish flag is a white cross on a black background. The local language (which I have never actually heard anyone speak, but appears on town-name signs) is Cornish.
We stayed in a tiny little two bedroomed cottage -- barely larger than a static caravan. It was a lovely little cottage, but very dusty. Antihistamines and inhalers were needed to get us through the first couple of days. However, a bit of vacuuming and a couple of days of airing it out made it a lot better.
What is a trip to Cornwall without Cornish pasties? OK, one can buy them pretty much anywhere in the UK, but nevertheless, when in Cornwall one must have Cornish pasties. It's actually an unwritten rule.
Hayle is a small town on the mouth of the Hayle River. When the tide is in, the beach is fairly extensive. When the tide is out, the entire mouth of the river becomes one big beach.
We stayed in a tiny cottage in St. Erth. I love looking around old churches and St. Erth happens to boast a nice church that was built in the year 1211.
St. Ives is a very bustling and touristy little fishing town -- good for pubs, shopping, cream teas and crabbing (off the harbour wall). After some lunch and shopping, we decided to take a boat ride to see the seals that tend to inhabit the rocky outcrops that lie just off the coast. We had the bonus of having a few wild bottle nosed dolphins swim alongside the boat for a while.
Cornwall is great for scenic coastal treks. Some don backpacks and walk from youth hostel to B&B. We did a circular walk that brought us back to the tiny village of Zennor, where we had parked.
Zennor itself boasts a lovely old church with a Norman tower, that dates back to 1150 AD, although previous churches on the same site are known to have existed from as early as the sixth century. There is also a lovely old pub (13th century) that serves good, old fashioned, hand pulled, real ale (all the more lovely after having been in America) and is famous for having D.H. Lawrence live there. The village is also home to a number of dairy farms and Cornwall's oldest privately owned museum.
We went on a very beautiful coastal walk along the cliff tops. There were some beautiful coves en route 
and if the tide were out we would have spent some time on their beaches. As it was, we just enjoyed the view. Back at Zennor, we rewarded ourselves with a well deserved pint or so of real ale at the Tinner's Arms.
