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Author Topic: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)  (Read 483871 times)

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Offline Chris in Prague

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5985 on: June 24, 2019, 12:58:43 PM »
I wonder where all this is leading.

The various threads will link up in Summer 1963 and a few outstanding matters from October 1962 will be clarified. There will be a couple of new characters, too, one of whom, only previously mentioned in passing, though has long-standing local contacts in Cornwall. First though, today (25th) or tomorrow (26th) will be Susan, in London and then travelling overnight to Cant Cove so that she can return to London with Sylvia, Eli, and Sofia.
« Last Edit: June 25, 2019, 12:16:10 PM by Chris in Prague, Reason: Updated. »

Offline Chris in Prague

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5986 on: June 25, 2019, 09:45:40 PM »
A rather lengthy post about Susan before the next part.

Susan Foreman, granddaughter of the Doctor, was sitting, alone in her bed-sitting room at 76 Totter's Lane and feeling very bored and lonely. It was the late May half term. As she sipped her green tea, of which the TARDIS had an unlimited supply, the young Timelord reflected that, officially, she had been just fifteen years old when she had been admitted to Coal Hill Secondary School, in Shoreditch, at the start of the 1962 autumn term but, although, she appeared like a teenager to human eyes, and had told her friends that she would soon be “in her sixteenth year” she was, actually, far older, 97 in Gallifrey  years, although as her people were very long-lived, she still felt like a teenager.

However, she smiled to herself, she had been pleased to discover that, especially with makeup and the latest outfit chosen for her by Mary Quant at her Chelsea boutique, ‘Bazaar’, on the King’s Road which Mary had told her had opened as long ago as 1955, she could easily pass for eighteen. In fact it was at ‘Bazaar’, which Mary had explained was a “kind of permanently running cocktail party”, staying open late at night and acting as a hub for the Chelsea Set’s socialites and artists along with countless Youthquake beauties, that Susan had first met and been befriended by Sylvia and Eli who had been impressed by a wisdom seemingly beyond her years and striking looks. Should there ever be expressed any doubt about Susan’s apparent age, Monique could, effortlessly, use her French charm on even the sternest doorman or barman.

When apart from the “Chelsea Girls” who had quickly adopted her as their eccentric little sister, Susan tried to lead the life of an ordinary teenage girl and to fit in, albeit unsuccessfully, with her classmates. This was especially difficult during lessons because, as she knew, there was an obvious imbalance in her knowledge compared with her classmates. Nevertheless, she eagerly embraced the cultural fads and fashions of contemporary teenagers. Susan had quickly come to love, via her little transistor radio, contemporary pop groups such as John Smith and the Common Men and singer-songwriters like Enka Lou-Lou, her favourite and kept their digital audios aboard the TARDIS as well as their analogue albums in the rack of LPs in her room next to her combined TV, radio, and record player. It was a very expensive Christmas present to herself that she had upgraded internally, thanks to the workshop, to reproduce sound superbly and pictures sharply, alas only in monochrome when her schoolfriend visited, as colour TV Susan knew would not come to Britain until 1967.

Susan was also interested in beat poetry, as was her only close friend at Coal Hill School, fifteen-year-old Debbie, an adopted only child of very great intelligence but with very strict parents who prevented Susan from taking their daughter with her when she was enjoying her evenings and nights as part of the ‘Chelsea Set’. It was not until Susan had persuaded her very reluctant grandfather to call on Debbie’s parents that Debbie was allowed to spend time, after school, with her best friend ‘studying’, actually, more often than not, sitting in the ‘Picasso’ coffee bar, in the King’s Road, which had opened in 1958 and was frequented by the likes of Michael Caine and Terence Stamp, much to the girls’ delight. Susan also insisted on taking Debbie to ‘Bazaar’, on her birthday and buying her a complete outfit which Debbie had to keep in Susan’s bed sitting room at Totter’s Lane. But, Susan sighed, Debbie was on holiday, with her parents, in Tenby, west Wales and Sylvia and Eli were away and the rest of the “Chelsea Girls” were either away or too busy to see her. She was missing her friends greatly. No matter how wonderful the technology she had surrounded herself with, she missed close human company.

At least, Susan reminded herself, as she gazed admiringly about her room, unlike other young people, she was never short of money. In her Mary Quant handbag, she always carried a cheque book in the name of Susan Foreman, as her grandfather had opened a bank account at Coutts and Co. private bank, soon after it was founded in 1692 and, after their arrival in London, in 1962, had had his granddaughter registered as an account holder in addition to himself, as I.M. Foreman, the name on the gates of the junkyard where the Doctor had hidden the TARDIS upon arrival. However, Susan knew better than to splash her money around or try to buy friends so only Sylvia and Eli had any idea of just how much money she had, thanks to the power of compound interest and her grandfather’s foresight, as was it foresight? she wondered.

It was having such money to spend that had first attracted Eli’s attention when she had spotted Susan placing a printed notice on every café community notice board in the Kings Road: “The Best Wages in London for the Best Builders in London, Urgent Building Conversion project, Call” followed by a list of the skills required then what appeared to be a Shoreditch number. Spotting Susan, later that evening at ‘Bazaar’, Sylvia and Eli quickly recommended that Susan talk with their friend, Angela. Meeting Angela, the next day, after school in the ‘Fantasie’ espresso coffee bar, which the curly, longhaired brunette explained, with a laugh, was one of ‘the’ places to be if you were to become one of ‘The Chelsea Set, Susan explained, whilst Angela took copious notes on an A4 pad, just what she needed done: the conversion of a former stable block at the back of the junkyard to two bedsitting rooms with central shared facilities above and a workshop area below.

Angela soon learnt that her new friend had very clear ideas and detailed plans about what she wanted. After Susan had left the ‘Fantasie’, she later learnt that Angela had moved to the ‘Picasso’ coffee bar next door where Sylvia, Eli, and the other ‘Chelsea Girls’ were waiting, impatiently to learn about their new gamine young friend and her plans.

It was not until some time later, when Susan was quite sure that she could trust her closest friends, Sylvia and Eli, that she had been able to explain some of her stranger instructions which had resulted in Angela selecting a young but very experienced Irish foreman, Brendan Gallagher, from Kilburn, to supervise all the construction work and the purchase, with Susan’s money of a secondhand VW van to transport all the required materials.

Susan smiled to herself at Brendan’s bemusement when he had been instructed to tour London building sites where nineteenth-century bricks and exterior window frames matching those of the stables block were being thrown out in favour of new twentieth century ones and seen the strange dark dense wood joists which seemed to have been delivered overnight (but were alien ironwood from one of the TARDIS store rooms which had been laser cut to Susan’s precise requirements). All that Susan would say was that the building’s rebuilt outer walls must look exactly the same as they had before the reconstruction whilst the interior was to be completely remodelled to the highest possible modern standards in a way that not even the most experienced of the builders had ever seen before. The young Irishman, now used to Susan’s eccentricity but very happy to be paid generously, cash in hand, each Friday afternoon, along with the men under him, simply shrugged his broad shoulders and wished that there were more well-paid fashion models, like Susan, in London.

Gone on either side of the interior central stairway was the ground floor former stables for the junkman’s horse, the garage converted from the area where the junkman’s cart had stood and in their place a secure storeroom with rows of strong metal shelving where a variety of curious items were placed in an order which only Susan understood and a workshop equipped to the very latest standard with a bewildering array of machinery. Upstairs, were two very comfortable bed sitting rooms with built in cupboards and a central kitchen, bathroom, shower and lavatory in-between fitted out with the very best that money could buy. The whole electricity supply had been replaced with industrial grade heavy duty wiring with various strange attached boxes and switches. What appeared to be a GPO telephone was installed in both ground-floor rooms, both bedrooms and the kitchen. None of the men had ever seen so many telephones in one place before. With construction complete, the men were paid off, very handsomely, and Brandon instructed to take them on a month’s paid holiday in Dublin. Angela’s last task had been to arrange the purchase, delivery, and placing of all the furnishings and fittings. Shopping for them had been a labour of love for the “Chelsea Girls” and the cause of not a few heated arguments only resolved when Susan had been brought in to make her decision.

In the end, it had all been worth it. “To understand humans, we must live like them and among them but, of course, with access to all the technology you are used to, my dear”, her grandfather had explained reassuringly. Susan had, she reflected, every reason to be proud of what she had achieved at 76 Totter’s Lane. Every soot-stained faded exterior detail made it look as though the old stable block had been standing, unaltered, for a hundred years but, inside, it was, seemingly fitted out with the very best that the 1960s had to offer but, concealed throughout was technology that would have not have been out of place on Gallifrey!

Only Sylvia and Eli had had a glimpse of something of that technology, the lights which turned on as darkness fell and which could be turned off with a certain handclap, and the video projection screen with surround sound conjured out of thin air that they all enjoyed watching videos on and listening to music from. At first, Susan had made out that these were controlled by hand movements before, later, admitting that it was all controlled by her mind. Seeing her two friends’ disappointment, she enabled them to be controlled by their hand movements when they next visited. Susan’s only regret was that, despite her best efforts to make his quarters as comfortable as possible for him, her grandfather seldom stayed there, preferring to rent far shabbier quarters upstairs in “The World's End” pub at 459 King's Road. Still, she smiled ruefully, it gave her two friends somewhere to sleep when they were too tired to go to the rented house where all the “Chelsea Girls” lived.

Offline cornish yorkie

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5987 on: June 25, 2019, 10:11:39 PM »
 :hellosign: Thanks Chris, a very interesting & thorough incite in to Susan.
       regards Derek.

Offline dannyboy

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5988 on: June 25, 2019, 10:14:19 PM »
Phew! That was some missive - but well worth reading to the end. Ahhh, the 60's  :thumbsup:
David.
I used to be indecisive - now I'm not - I don't think.
If a friend seems distant, catch up with him.

Offline weave

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5989 on: June 25, 2019, 11:11:54 PM »
Hi Chris (IP),

Nice back story.

I used to pop in to the World's End in the mid '80s. Way down the King's Road, hence the name I suppose?, but not far from the shop 'American Classics' (practically the last shop) where various clothing and memorabilia was looked at and then not purchased as far too expensive  :(.

Didn't see the Doc in the pub, or maybe I did  :hmmm:, but good memories.

Cheers Chris (weave)  :beers:


Offline Chris in Prague

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5990 on: Yesterday at 11:52:41 AM »
Thank you all. Yes, Chris (Weave), a trip to Chelsea in the early 1960s would be very enjoyable. I have a very good book on "Swinging London" that I bought when first researching the time and place.
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 11:59:27 AM by Chris in Prague »

Offline Chris in Prague

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5991 on: Yesterday at 11:59:04 AM »
We interrupt this message to bring you reports of an explosion in a goods train in Wadebridge yard sidings, early this morning. There are no reports of casualties so far and the local police are at the scene with Wadebridge station being closed until further notice. The local fire brigade are in attendance but no fires have been reported. A Royal Navy specialist team is, we have been reliably informed, on its way from Plymouth in a special train.

Further updates will follow.

Offline port perran

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5992 on: Yesterday at 03:20:59 PM »
We interrupt this message to bring you reports of an explosion in a goods train in Wadebridge yard sidings, early this morning. There are no reports of casualties so far and the local police are at the scene with Wadebridge station being closed until further notice. The local fire brigade are in attendance but no fires have been reported. A Royal Navy specialist team is, we have been reliably informed, on its way from Plymouth in a special train.

Further updates will follow.

Sounds very dramatic Chris.
If it looks right then it most probably is right.


Offline port perran

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5993 on: Yesterday at 08:24:31 PM »
Trains from West Cornwall for Wadebridge and the North Cornwall line towards Devon are currently terminating at Trepol Bay where a replacement omnibus service is being hastily arranged.
If it looks right then it most probably is right.


Offline Train Waiting

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5994 on: Yesterday at 08:28:51 PM »
How jolly inconvenient!  Hopefully, normal services will be restored soon.

Best wishes.

John
'Why does the Disney Castle work so well?  Because it borrows from reality without ever slipping into it.'

(Acknowledgement: John Goodall Esq, Architectural Editor, 'Country Life'.)

The Table-Top Railway is an attempt to create, in British 'N' gauge,  a 'semi-scenic' railway in the old-fashioned style, reminiscent of the layouts of the 1920s to the 1950s.

Offline Chris in Prague

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5995 on: Yesterday at 08:52:57 PM »
Oh, it is, Martin.

‘Snapper of the Yard’s Cornish colleague, D.I. Rule, received the telephone call to come to Wadebridge station’s goods yard, just as he was about to sit down to breakfast. Apologising to his long-suffering wife, he grabbed a thermos into which his wife had poured tea and milk, grabbed a slice of buttered toast and hurried out of his house to await the police car picking him up. Very shortly Rule was seated in the front passenger’s seat as, the bell ringing, the police car sped to Fernleigh Road and stopped next to the goods yard.

Accompanied by the Sergeant, they entered the goods yard gate where a visibly shocked Bill Truscott, the Wadebridge Yardmaster, was waiting for them.

“Good morning, Bill. What do we have here, then?”

Pointing at an isolated white-painted railway van, at the end of the nearest of the two sidings, the Yardmaster responded:

“Good morning, Detective Inspector. Well, I’ve never seen anything like it. It's ...”

“Let’s have a close look, Yardmaster, then we can go to your office and I’ll take down all the details.”

“Yes, of course.”

They stepped over to the van and a police constable and one of the shunters lifted the corner of a long dark BR tarpaulin covering the roof and end of the white-painted van.

“My goodness, the top half of the van has been blown away.”

“Actually, blown inside and the roof clean away! I told ‘em that it was much safer to deliver such a high-value cargo in those unmarked ‘Fruit’ vans we used to use but, no, Sylvia Trevelver and Elayne Guillou were up in Perthshire talking with the Tullibardine Distillery’s Marketing Manager, one Aly McAteer, about introducing a fleet of ‘Tullibardine’ branded ex-BR ‘ShocVans’, instead. I told ‘em no good will come of it but they insisted so, reluctantly, I arranged the delivery of all the vans needed … and now this … and the very first ‘Tullibardine’ whisky delivery for Wadebridge, Cant Cove and Penmayne, too!”

“Yes, yes. A ladder, please.”

The shunter rushed away and soon returned with a wooden ladder which was placed at an angle against the end of the van with its foot resting in the thin layer of dirty ballast in front of the buffer stop.

Reaching the top of the ladder, Rule examined the hole.

“Definite scorch marks. There’s no doubt that explosives were used. I saw burnt fragments of rope on the ground, probably been used to tie the explosives in place.”

“Yes, sir. It would appear so,” replied the sergeant, “the rest of the ropes are still on the ground around the van”.

“I can’t see much within the van. There’s a strong smell of fine whisky though. Can’t we open it?”

“I’m sorry not, Detective Inspector. It’s a specially secure van and we are waiting for two keyholders, one from the ‘Castle’ and one from the ‘Headlands’ brewery, to come to open it, together.”

“I see. Not very secure was it?”

“Well, they were not able to gain access despite the explosives, Detective Inspector. But why blow in the top end?”

“Probably hoping that that way they would not damage the contents but still get a small, slim lad inside that way to unlock the van,” suggested the Yardmaster.

“Well, they failed then. Probably got the amount of explosives wrong. A rush job? Who reported this?”

“Sandy Penduckett, the signalman, Wadebridge West Box, heard the explosion and called me, at home and I called the Wadebridge police station.”

“I’ll be calling on him to take down the details.”

“Any reports of missing or stolen explosives, sergeant?”

“Yes, sir, from a quarry explosives store, I have the details to hand.”

“Good work, sergeant.”

“The very first ‘Tullibardine’ whisky van, you say, Yardmaster?”

“The first one to be in my yard, overnight. One’s already gone through to Trepol Bay, Port Perran, Newquay, and Truro. This one was due to be collected, this morning, by the 7.02 goods to Penmayne, arriving at Cant Cove at 7.08.”

“Sounds like someone had inside knowledge then. They were up bright and early.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let the enquiries commence! We’ll soon have those villains, make no mistake, Yardmaster. Meanwhile, this van is impounded as important evidence! Sergeant, bring in the usual suspects; as good a place to start as any. Someone must know something useful.”
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 09:04:42 PM by Chris in Prague, Reason: Corrected. »

Offline dannyboy

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5996 on: Yesterday at 08:57:32 PM »
Well that just goes to show that nowhere is safe from crime these, (them), days.  :no:
David.
I used to be indecisive - now I'm not - I don't think.
If a friend seems distant, catch up with him.

Offline Chris in Prague

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5997 on: Yesterday at 09:10:53 PM »
Having established that there appears to be no further danger of explosion or fire, Wadebridge station has been reopened but both the sidings are cordoned off and the RN technicians are standing ready to inspect the interior of the van, once it has been opened, in case, any live explosives are lying inside.

Offline port perran

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5998 on: Yesterday at 09:11:34 PM »
Well, well, well.
If it looks right then it most probably is right.


Offline cornish yorkie

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Re: Cant Cove (and Penmayne)
« Reply #5999 on: Yesterday at 10:49:37 PM »
 :hellosign:
   Well let`s hope they catch the culprits & more importantly no Whisky is spilt
      regards Derek.

 

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