Well, for a kick-off the weather was a tad wild and woolly. In fact, it was
so bad that even Sir Ranulph Fiennes brought a letter from his mum to excuse him
from having to take part!
So, first and foremost, I apologise for the quality (or, to be more precise,
the total lack of quality) of the piccies. However, as I hope you can see, the
weather was absolutely bloody appalling and unfortunately, Jacques Cousteau I am
not!
The procession enters The Digey, where it was
relatively sheltered ... |
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... and then emerges from The Digey, where it
wasn't ... |
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... finally disappearing under the stormy
skies over Porthmeor! |
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Of course, the irony of all this is that in howling winds and torrential rain
we are going to a well ..... to get some water!
Once the procession managed to squelch into the small alcove that contains Eia's
well the local vicar, Andrew Couch, took some water from the well, blessed it
and offered up a prayer .....
"My God, I don't think we've ever had
weather this bad before..." |
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He then offered the chalice of water to the
Mayor, inviting her to take a swig to see if it was safe to drink! |
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The vicar then sprinkled water (no, honest,
he did!) on the other attendees, no doubt to the annoyance of the woman
behind him who still hadn't managed to get her giant match to light! |
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Then, we all trudged back the way we came until we finally arrived at the
Parish Church. The Mayor and her gang went into the church (allegedly for a
short service, probably for a chalice-full of mulled communion wine!), while your correspondent
squidged back home for a change of clothing.
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