cornish art & culture from genius loci

The End Column - courtesy of Cornish World, the magazine of Cornwall

On Such A Day by Clies Stevens

The day starts for me in summertime at around 04.30 am. I say around because it depends on the whim of the spoilt brat I call my pet, which is one called Finnegan the greyhound. A cold wet nose is persistently pushed into the ear or any other part of the face above the blankets; and continues in spite of the expletives I mumble to him.

A sharp dig in the ribs from she who shares my life and the magic words “ he wants to go out!” is enough to put the feet on the carpet and glare at Finnegan, who is by now going slightly dippy at the prospect of the dawn patrol to the beach.

I stumble to the bathroom leaving him to take my revenge on Margaret as he leaps onto the bed in happy anticipation.

I do not look in the mirror these days. At least not at 4.30 am. The stubble laden horror show glaring back at me often prompts the question of “ why did she marry me?” So, Finally dressed and almost human we go downstairs. By this time the other female of the house has deigned to join us, our 16 year old Labrador Sue who is a venerable pensioner these days but still up for a walk before going back to sleep again! The car is regarded as dog’s property, Sue gets her bottom half lifted in while Finnegan effortlessly jumps in to turn and stare at me. This stare is meant to say “c’mon lets go, the beach is out there waiting”.

The arrival at dynamite quay Lelant is worth it all. I let the two hooligans out from the back of the car and just stand there and absorb it all slowly. The sun is rising over the Hayle side, the air is soft and charged with that special Cornish feel to it of summertime.

It is low water perhaps, and the mullet are gathering in the tidal pool formed by the lelant and Hayle Rivers, the ripples from silvery bodies feeding just below the surface spreading in perfect circles. Bird song is heard from so many birds it is sometimes like an orchestra tuning up.

This is a Cornish summer morning, and is like no other I have seen around the places I have worked in the world. You have to be there to experience it, this feel that has no explanation or words to describe it. As I walk along the sand, I can see the little swifts that have burrowed into the cliff above me, and rabbit tracks that run down the steeply sloping sides of the low sand cliff.

There are wild flowers nodding up there I cannot put a name to, I do not need to because just to see them is enough. The dogs are investigating every lump of weed and driftwood with eager excitement, and Finn waits for one of the young rabbits to join him on the beach. They never do however so he gives up and looks for the next exciting smell.

Members of the Godrevy seal colony are getting breakfast in the outer estuary, and boats in the harbour are running engines slowly until the water is high enough to go out over the bar, the sun is warm on my ‘T’ shirt as it gains height and power. I can see the Herons fishing; several different kinds live here now, along with lots of other aquatic birds. Two hours later, we get back to the car and I put both dogs in the back. Finn is still willing to go again, getting him off the beach is the problem. The landscape has changed, the sun is higher and so is the tide. Different birds are singing now and really there is only one way to describe this.

Isn’t it grand to be in Cornwall on such a day?

There is no other place to be on such a day as this, and you have to be there to experience the ‘feel’ of it all, it is something very hard to define in words; more like an inner peace that heals the trouble from other days.

So, with Finnegan winging in the back we head home, home to a sausage treat for the dogs and a cup of tea with Margaret for me. Then with both dogs stretched out and snoring on the couches (Clever of us to design furniture just for dogs wasn’t it?) We have time to think about the day.

And what to avoid doing if at all humanly possible!

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