Wednesday 13 July. A critical day in the quest to complete the Good Beer Guide.
Baa Baa Toure joined me for McDonalds finest breakfast (pancakes and sausage with hash brown and maple syrup), and wondered if he could dress like Paddington.
I’d decided to take the copter, after horror stories about the Penzance ferry, not least (as BRAPA discovered) the fact that it wasn’t actually possible to do Tresco as a day trip by ferrry.
I intend to pay Mrs RM back the money I borrowed to fund this trip from proceeds from private viewings of the completed GBG, which sounds more sensible than certain other financial plans being touted this week.
The super clean, super efficient Penzance Heliport deserves a short post of its own, as there was more blogworthy content than in the entirety of the Lincolnshire visits.
Every car in the car park cost more than our house, the first advert you see is for yoga (YOGA !),
and the luxurious looking Tresco Times starts with an ad for Patek Philippe watches (you can’t afford one) and then tells us, without irony, that my target pub now has “calming Farrow & Ball lichen walls”;
while offering your chance to buy a week’s holiday on the island for the next 30 years for an upfront payment of a mere £153,465. That’s less than £5,200 a year.
My fellow passengers on the 16 seat include an upper-class sunhat family, whose son George (probably minor royalty) took longer to select chocolate from the posh vending machine than I did to walk Tresco.
On the copter, George’s sister, who I’ll call Beatrice, gave me a look like this as Baa Baa protruded nervously out of my pocket;
Mum sought to assure Beatrice I wasn’t an axe murderer, but I wasn’t so sure. That would depend on whether the New Inn was open or not.
Here’s your highlights from the fifteen (15) minute flight;
Next stop, Tresco.