Memo to self: don’t buy wild St. Agnes bunny for Paella again. An authentic Paella Valenciana requires wabbit but our particular wabbit did not wespond well to welatively wapid cooking, did it Elmer?. Personally, I’d forget shooting that blasted buck-toothed wabbit ‘cos it’s no spring chicken and will be a tad chewy if our experience is anything to go by. I didn’t have this trouble in Spain where el bunnies were quite tender. Fingers crossed that this evening’s St. Agnes lamb fajitas will be a little more successful and not turn into mutton fajitas. On top of discovering that the Truro McDonalds has security enabled on their wi-fi, this was just too much, darn it.
After a night of sporadic rain, we spent a leisurely morning that continued as the night left off, waiting for the rain to clear. This it did, by about 11:00 AM and we decided against a completely lazy day and wandered back over to Wheal Coates, this time turning south, to walk through Chapel Porth to Porthtowan. It’s only about five miles there and back but there are several descents and ascents so it was quite good exercise.
The usual array of surf bums were in the water at Porthtowan. "Towan" is Cornish for "dune" and there it was at the top of the beach. Just opposite the towan, there is also a bar/restaurant claiming to have wi-fi access (just ask at the bar for the password). So, if we can’t face going into Truro McDonalds, maybe this would be an alternative – over a pint, of course.
A somewhat sinister sea mist (a har, perhaps?) blew in across Wheal Coates on our return leg. The "sinister" refers to an old movie (called "The Fog"?) I seem to recall in which a sea fog conceals a galleonful of murderous, cutlass-wielding pirates.
Ornithological notes: we have a pair of buzzards apparently resident in an old chimney associated with the Wheal Coates mine workings; Carol also heard our second cuckoo this morning, our first being at Kestal Farm last week.
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