Summer 2022 has seen trips to the Isles of Man, Wight, Orkney (Mainland), Rousay, Uist (North & South), Lewis, Harris, Skye and ALL of the Channel Islands in pursuit of The Goal.
But the Isles of Scilly was possibly the most nerve-jangling trip of the lot, and not just because I’d be out of my comfort zone the whole day.
Two days before my trip Penzance Helicopers cancelled the flight due to a “technical issue“, presumably the blades not rotating or something.
Miss this flight and my schedule was scuppered. So I was relieved to see the Isles suddenly come into view. Having taken 388 photos on the flight, I then choose to nick one off Penzance Helicopters.
First things first. The Scillies (?) are stunning. Just look at the names; St Martin’s, Taylor’s Island, Golden Ball. They were clearly expecting me.
Five seconds after landing I was already on the walkway, racing away from the poshos waiting for their multiple suitcases to be transported by golf buggy to their £5k a night hotel.
They waved as they passed me ten minutes later, by which time I was already approaching the New Inn. Let’s stop to admire the view though.
I was expecting the New Inn to be a bit more fancy after the write-up in Tresco Times,
but I rather liked that. Note that in 30 degree heat NO-ONE was inside,
bar a stunningly cheery barperson who forgot to ask me if I was dining.
There’s a little undercover conservatory, but coming from Sheffield I like to be exposed to sunlight and of course cask improves in 30 degree heat (FACT).
To be frank the Proper Job was OK, but struggling a bit to compete with the appeal of cold continental lager, but those barrels have had a tough journey so let’s not be too harsh.
A group of smartly dressed Brighton lads were discussing the origin of the phrase “Gordon Bennet” (“Ah, that old chestnut phrase“) and the enfranchisement of Swiss women (1974, apparently).
“I’m going to burn up or get arrested for murder !” said one.
There hasn’t been a murder on Tresco since Proper Job replaced Doom Bar on the bar. The half hour walk found zero pieces of dropped litter, just meticulously maintained footpaths, white sand and crystal blue waters.
It was lovely, but frankly an hour of lovely is as much as I (or Mrs RM) can bear, and I was glad I’d only booked the day trip (3 hours).
The micropub (above) was still under construction, and I won’t need to come back for that now, will I ?
Baa Baa Toure went off for a walk and slipped. Luckily I caught it on camera.
Mum and Dad would have loved the flora,
and I really ought to have visited Tresco Abbey, but I’m not paying £18 to see plants, and instead paid £3 to visit the cafe and make a new friend.
By 16:30 I was back in Penzance, with work still to do.
4 thoughts on “THE SCILLIES HAVE FALLEN. AND SO HAS BAA BAA TOURE.”
An expensive tick.
A very expensive tick. Exhilarating, though.
I thought you’d dropped your mascot out of the Heli-door for a minute there! Phew, there’s killer Orcas and millionaire yachts down there, he/she may never have come back…
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If that had happen I’d have applied for a year’s compassionate leave from my employer.