It is worth noting at this juncture that the character written about in the previous passage was not a local of Falmouth. He visited on the weekends to see his estranged and quite possibly strange family. For the most part the people of Falmouth are suspiciously friendly. Suspicion fades with time, the people here are just really nice. Helpfulness, chattiness and smiling faces are not something I associate with England but the rub lies in that wonderfully large and vibrant city London. London is not England. What is England then?

It is certainly not the perpetually balmy weather that has bathed us since we made landfall. Towards then end of Atlantic passage I started enquiring about foul weather gear and if we had ice picks for climbing the mast. What greeted us in Falmouth has been for the most part quite nice. Crisp mornings and sunshine well into the daylight saving hours. Day after day of sun drenched spring. Where are we again? Even the English I work with do not believe the weather. "It won’t last" "this is our Summer it will be snowing next week" "where is my handkerchief to put upon my head?"

Speaking of which we had quite an awesome Sunday past.

We had a great walk to a local hotel and health spa. There were people swimming in the 10 degree water at Gily Beach. The softer ones were wearing wet suits.

The Spa surrounds were an immaculate garden modeled in a sub tropical style (not my words)

My picture though, and it it looks pretty sub tropical.

The Hotel is called Saint Michaels Hotel & Spa and I am pleased to report we felt very healthy and relaxed when we left. I am less than happy to report the 10 hour drinking session that followed was not healthy and I felt quite poorly the next day. Suspicious? No, just stupid.

The insanity that surrounds the Royal family and weddings has not escaped me here in Falmouth. The costume shops of which there are two have had an alarming array of Royal wedding themed outfits in every shape and size. Things reached a fever pitch on Friday. I briefed myself quite well in front of breakfast television and started to get nervous about the whole thing. The closest we got to anything royal was one of the local swans going out for a paddle. Swans are large beasts and if the Royal Family ever wants to branch out, KFS or Kentucky Fried Swan would be a fantastic franchise. Imagine a royal wedding carriage with a KFS logo artfully placed upon the gilded gold.


I am not serious. Or am I?

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