Well, not strictly Cornwall, but Devon. Monday 4th July. I had sadly from my patio to say goodbye to the birds on the RSPB Hayle Estuary reserve, and start making my way home.
I was not going to be able to pick Bella up from her cattery until 4.30, so had plenty of time to make one last visit, and chose the National Trust’s Castle Drogo, near Exeter, a 20th century castle. I saw a robin in the grounds, and realised I had not seen one all week.
Castle Drogo was built by Julius Drewe, founder of the hugely successful Home and Colonial Stores . (He retired on his fortune in 1889 aged only 33.) He was convinced that he was descended from a Norman baron called called Drogo de Teigne, from Drewsteignton, and bought land there, overlooking the River Teign, to build a castle. He asked Edwin Lutyens to be its architect. Lutyens would much have preferred to design ‘a delicious loveable house’, but Drewe insisted. Construction started in 1911, but in the event, he lost heart after losing his eldest son in the First World War, and started to dislike the cost of it all, and only about a third of the original concept was realised by the time construction was completed in 1930. Drewe died a year later, but had been able to live there since 1925. It is the last castle to be built in England.
I just loved its Art Nouveau Tudor style. (That’s my description; I’ve not seen it elsewhere, and Wikipedia calls it ‘mixed-revivalist’.) It is entirely built in granite, and was given to the National Trust in 1974, its first 20th century acquisition.
The building may have been twentieth century, but the collected pieces were authentic.
To reach the undercroft, which became the chapel in the revised design, it is necessary to go outside. A chance to see the wonderful granite blocks again.
After some lunch in the recent visitor centre and cafe building, I spent an hour or so wandering in the gardens. The rose garden was outstanding, and would have been even more stunning had it been brighter and warmer. (It seems strange to be saying that at a time when UK all-time heat records have just been broken by a considerable margin.)
My final stop was at the circular lawn, where a mesmerising robot lawnmower entertained me for a few minutes.
But let my final picture in this series of posts about this so enjoyable holiday in Cornwall – and Devon – be of the class of animals which had given me such pleasure all week, the birds. Much more entertaining on the lawn than the robot was a pied wagtail, a species which, as with the robin, I hadn’t seen all week.
Sunday, 3rd July. Membership of The Newt in Somerset gives free entry to a few other gardens in the UK (and one in South Africa!). I had my eye on two of them as I considered what to do on my last day in Cornwall. But I found that neither Trebah nor Tregothnan opens on a Sunday. So I turned to my booklet, ‘Cornwall’s Archaeological Heritage’ for the first time this week, and also to my National Trust handbook. The former told me about Trencom Castle, a hill fort just a few minutes from where I was staying. Among other things it told me that, “The enclosure may have originated in the Neolithic period and many flint arrowheads were found here in the early 20th century.” So I made this my first destination. But first I had of course to look out to see what was happening in the RSPB reserve, and have some breakfast.
Guess who appeared while I was eating. But at least today he didn’t tap on my window.
I really like these Cornish stiles – especially if they provide a post to hold on to.
The top of the fort was not high, about 180 metres (the same as Glastonbury Tor), and my car was parked at 135, so not much effort was needed. The path was well trodden.
Yet another view of St Michael’s Mount
I didn’t stay at the top for long, not least because there was a party of walkers up there disturbing the peace.
The main visit of the day was to Trelissick House, National Trust. ‘The estate has been in the ownership of the National Trust since 1955 when it was donated by Ida Copeland following the death of her son Geoffrey. A stained glass memorial bearing the Copeland coat of arms was donated to Feock parish church by Mrs. Copeland. The house and garden had formerly been owned and developed by the Daniell family, which had made its fortune in the 18th century Cornish copper mining industry.’ (Wikipedia, which does history so much better than does the National Trust on its site) The Copelands had been co-owners of Spode, the ceramics company based in Stoke-on-Trent.
I started in the garden and grounds.
At the entrance there had been a notice saying a choir would be singing on the terrace of the house at 1.00 pm. I heard their songs wafting towards me as I wandered around, and at one stage was near enough to zoom a photo on it. I thought how pragmatic the uniform was in the not very warm weather. Blue jeans of any hue and any black top.
I went round to the front of the house and looked round. ‘Trelissick is not your typical country house visit. It is presented as neither home nor museum, but was opened in 2014 simply as a place to enjoy the view. It plays host to a modest collection – including ceramics …’ Here is one which rather pleased me.
Arriving in the small café very late for lunch, I was fortunate to get the very last portion of soup. Visitors were allowed to take their food to any of several rooms. Most of the places were taken, and I ended up in what was called the Solarium, (which I would have called an Orangery otherwise). It was very warm there, unlike outdoors. This was my view.
I think these were ensconced in the Drawing Room for the afternoon!
It became warm and sunny enough to sit out on the sheltered terrace. The choir had long gone, and I found a vacant deckchair.
Not a bad view.
I heard someone nearby talk about a castle in the distance, and sure enough, with my camera on maximum zoom, I could see Pendennis Castle, about 800 metres away, in Falmouth. (It’s on the list for next year.)
Back for my last evening at The Old Quay House, I spent my time, as every evening bar Friday (Minack), divided between Wimbledon and bird-watching.
Saturday 2nd July. When I woke up, my knees reminded me that they had made quite an effort the previous day, perhaps the Frenchman’s Creek walk, or maybe the Minack Theatre steps, most likely a combination of both. So, a late breakfast, some photos,
and a very early lunch in the restaurant of the place I was staying, the Old Quay House. Good old fish and chips. Very early because I had decided to rest my legs today, and after lunch to take a circular bus ride on the hop-on hop-off Land’s End Coaster, an hourly service.
Here’s a tourist map of the far tip of Cornwall that I was given during my 2021 holiday in Penzance.
The Hayle estuary and St Erth, where I got on the bus, are half way down, over on the right. I chose to take the anticlockwise route, which went northwards to St Ives, along the north coast westward towards Geevor, southward to St Just, then continued south, diverting to Sennen Cove, back to the main road, and out to Land’s End and back, then down, and on another detour, to Porthcurno (the home of the Minack Theatre, though the bus necessarily turned back before that), inland to St Buryan, across to Newlyn, then to Penzance, Marazion (St Michael’s Mount), and northeast back to my starting point. The bus ride would take four hours. It takes 15 minutes to get to Penzance from Hayle, where I was staying, by car.
I sat upstairs in the open-air part of the bus. It was very blowy – and for most of the time, especially along the north coast, and as the previous evening, I wished I had more clothing with me. People got on and off at regular intervals. I think I was the only person not using the bus as a means of getting from A to B. And I was able to use my senior’s bus pass.
I took no more photos from then in, Penzance, through Marazion and back to St Erth/Hayle.
Back at my lovely patio for the evening, the tide was well out.
One full day in Cornwall left. And no, I didn’t see my friendly gull this day.
A temporary diversion, from a couple of weeks ago in Cornwall (eight posts done, three to go) to yesterday in Somerset.
This eponymous company grows and makes lavender products in the village of Faulkland, near the former coal-mining town of Radstock. The interesting history of the farm, which links miners and dairy farming to the current crop, is here. They invite the public in to wander in their fields, to buy their plants (not only lavender), to visit their gift shop, and to partake of sweet and other things in their café. I did all those things yesterday.
The thousands of bees, both honey and bumble of that ilk, and the occasional butterfly, were far too busy to pose for a decent photograph.
There were large patches of oil seed rape at the edges of the two fields of lavender. I have not been able to find out their purpose, as they were not extensive enough to be a crop.
Beyond one lavender field was a large one of pale mauve phacelia,
which I have learned since has many uses including green manure. So perhaps lavender (or sunflowers, for the farm grows these as well, and you may also wander among those, the time come) will be planted there next year.
There were also some beautiful flowerbeds near the entrance.
I ended up at the gift shop and café. I did purchase, a wheat and lavender warmer.
And an ice cream, of which for me there could only be one flavour. It was delicious, though perhaps that had something to do also with the oodles of double cream that went into making it.
All five senses pleased in a couple of hours. Sight in the fields and garden; hearing from the bees; smell from the delicate scent coming off the lavender plants; taste from that gorgeous icecream; and touch from the lovely velvet covering of the warmer.
Friday, 1st July. As I was to be out that evening, I made plans just for the late morning/early afternoon. I had seen a walk on the National Trust website that rather appealed, not least for its (lack of) length.
But first just a couple of photos from my patio.
But this bird, no doubt my previous visitor, obviously thinks he’s a human being. While I was having my breakfast he actually tapped on the windowpane several times!
Before setting off for my walk, a further visit to the very convenient Marks and Spencer was required. I had noticed the day before that my trainers were starting to come apart, in a manner which could be dangerous given my plans for the day. I found a pair not ideal but at least satisfactory. (The ones I liked most were only available online.) I would definitely not have chosen pure white had there been more possibilities.
The walk started at the village of Helford and took in a large stretch of Frenchman’s Creek.
Sadly the tide was out, so the Helford River was not looking its best.
But the estuary was pretty.
From Helford village, the walk went to Penarvon Cove and then across country to Frenchman’s Creek. (I must read Daphne du Maurier’s novel again.)
There remained more cross country walking to return to Helford. I was dependant on only a description of the NT walk, with no plan, so I was very pleased to have downloaded the relevant Ordnance Survey map to my phone, which, as it tracked my path, enabled to to confirm where I was. (I can really recommend the latest generation of OS maps, which give this right to download permanently when you buy the paper map. I had hesitated, thinking that looking on a small phone screen would be useless, but it’s quite the opposite and you can zoom right in to see detail which would be difficult for aging eyes on the paper map. Or you can spend £25 a year and have the whole country’s maps on your device for the year.)
The instruction was to cross the yard at Kestle Barton. It did not mention an apparently very recent addition – the possibility to buy icecreams and cake there. (There was an honesty box. I did not have change – so I bought both and enjoyed consuming them in the lovely garden there. That was my only lunch.)
The final stretch of the walk was described as very muddy, and it certainly was. At some points it was possible to ‘rise above it’, as in the picture below, but not at others. My ‘lovely’ new white trainers, not to mention socks and trousers, got pretty messy. I was very glad not to be wearing my leaky old trainers, and pleased to reach my car.
The evening’s outing was a visit to the Minack Theatre, which I had seen from the air two days previously. I had booked my ticket from home, and the day before had seen this poster for the opera I was to see at St Erth station. A programme had been helpfully sent digitally the day before, and I had downloaded it to my phone.
A friend had told me that, when she went, she had seen dolphins while waiting for the start. No such luck this evening. Perhaps the chilly wind (note the sea below and the ribbons!) put them off. I certainly wished I had even more warm clothing with me.
The instrumentalists, mainly woodwind and brass, were in a tent just to my right. At times, they drowned out the singers. Catching the words in opera is tricky enough at times, but I knew theme of this ‘children’s opera’, and the spectacle and music were good.
During the interval, I was privy to a delightful episode right next to me. A party of 12 was there to celebrate the birthday of a two-year-old. They sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to her, and cut a Colin the Caterpillar cake. The little girl was as good as gold throughout the full-length opera.
Back on Terra Firma, I wandered around, casually making for the St Ives Museum.
This was the only photo I took, the entrance, as photography inside was not allowed. This made me rather grumpy, but I couldn’t help enjoying the really old-fashioned, crammed displays, of all lost life and livings in St Ives and indeed Cornwall. But sorry, no photos.
On my reluctant way back to the seafront, where the hordes were gathered, and this wasn’t even the height of the holiday season,
I hadn’t really registered too much the ‘Garden’ bit beforehand, but on remarking this to an attendant, I was told that the planting was exactly as Hepworth had planned, as was – mostly – the positioning of the sculptures. Nor had I been too sure that I would like the latter, but I really, really did.
I enjoyed looking at them from different angles: such as this,
There remained Tate St Ives, but not my stamina. Two exhibitions were enough for one day. But I did want to see the front of the building, so walked round to Porthmeor Beach, which I had seen from the sea in the morning. I also had the idea that it could be a relatively quiet place to have a cup of tea.
From the fourth floor café, which was not as quiet as I had hoped as the floors were polished stone and the staff were clattering dishes, I could admire the view. I realised later that there were quieter areas with seaward views. Never mind, the lemon grass and ginger tea was excellent, from fresh ingredients, not from a tea bag.
The curvy architectural theme is maintained.
Down at street level, I could see that the beach, and even more the sea, was well occupied. There seemed to be a surfing lesson going on.
Time to trudge (uphill mainly) to the railway station for my shuttle back. This time the carriages were crowded. It wasn’t that everyone was staying in St Erth or Hayle, it was that St Erth station car park is officially a park and ride facility for all those coming from near and far for those visiting not only St Ives, but also Penzance.
My scenic ride back picked up not only Porth Kidney Sands at the mouth of the Hayle estuary, but also, as I zoomed the camera, The Old Quay House, and particularly my room, with its private patio.
Time for a little more bird-watching, or rather -gazing. Most of these were some way away.
Thursday 30th June. Lovely at 6.30 a.m., and warm enough for me to leave the doors open as I get back into bed.
Uh-oh! He’s back.
Enough is enough! Shoo!
Time anyway for me to get up. But I’ll just go out on to the patio, lean on the rail for a bit, and see what’s going on.
He’s back again. But seems settled. (I should have noticed which way he was looking though.)
I return to the Oystercatcher.
And notice that the Herring gull is no longer on the rail, so turn round, just in case.
Hey!!! Off you go!!!
To my left, the train I’m planning to catch a bit later. I was intending to spend the day in St Ives, and going by car would not be a sensible thing to do, because of parking problems. All I needed to do was walk the 15 minutes to St Erth station to catch that train, which shuttled between the two stations every half hour. And I’m promised a great scenic ride…
I buy my day return for £2.60 (inc. senior railcard) and settle into a nearly empty train, enjoying the views along the coast for the 10 minutes it takes to get to St Ives, with just one stop, at Carbis Bay.
I had allowed plenty of time before my only actual ‘appointment’ of the day, 10.30. The evening before, fancying a boat trip, I had booked a trip to ‘Seal Island’, but was concerned about the weather forecast. I needed, not even having one at home, a light rainproof jacket. It took me a while to find one, but having done so I made my way to the rendezvous point, by the lifeboat station. A great fan of the TV programme, ‘Saving Lives at Sea’, I had to take a photo of the impressive craft.
Seeing a man with a clipboard, I asked him was he Derek. He replied in the affirmative and asked if I was Venetia. Were there so few bookings that he could be so sure, I asked him. “Only four, but don’t worry. [I wasn’t; in fact I thought it would be rather good to share the boat with so few.] I’ll have many more by the time the boat sails.” And went on to say that business had been very bad the previous two days, since they’d not been able to go out because of the bad weather. Which made me feel rather guilty at my selfish thought.
He pointed me to the other side of the harbour,
and asked me to be at the jetty by 11.05. Which I was, along with many other people waiting for several other boats. We had to wait for quite a while. There was quite a swell beyond the harbour apparently, and the sea was not playing ball to let people get from the jetty onto the tenders that were to take us to the boats, in my case ‘The Little Mermaid.’ And yes, Derek had indeed rustled up eight more people to make up the full complement of 12 passengers allowed on board.
There was nervousness for some about moving from tender to boat, but no accident.
Once out of the harbour, The Little Mermaid was indeed bounced around quite a bit, but I – even though inclined to sea sickness – was OK, and thoroughly enjoyed the ride.
I was glad of my new rain jacket, which served as a good windcheater. Fortunately, none of the threatened showers actually happened.
After about 20 minutes we arrived at one of the correctly named ‘Carracks‘, (from the Cornish for ‘rocks’) nicknamed ‘Seal Island’, where we stayed and observed these Atlantic grey seals, some of whom seemed interested in us,
but most of whom just lazed around in the sun.
It was time to return along the choppy sea.
The next passengers await. But first the tender must take us back to the jetty.
It was only shortly past midday by now, and I had several more hours to spend in the resort.
Wednesday 29th June, part 2. Very shortly after starting to explore the Tresco Abbey Gardens, by which time the threat of rain had lifted, and having had the obligatory and necessary coffee, I was absolutely delighted to see a red squirrel – and then another. I had no idea they were on the Isles of Scilly.
Here are just a few of the over 100 photos I took on my way round the very extensive gardens.
I had now been in the gardens perhaps an hour, totally absorbed in what I was seeing. But at this point I looked up and saw the sea in the distance. I came to, and suddenly remembered where I was. It was a strange feeling, coming back to space and time.
My peregrination had brought me back near the entrance. Whether these were the same two squirrels, I could not know, but as they played they rushed past me, apparently oblivious of my presence .
As I went back to the cafe at the entrance for a something to eat, I couldn’t resist taking another photo of the creature (was it the same?) that had greeted me earlier on.
Also at the entrance there was a small exhibition on the history of the Gardens.
Guess who visited while I was consuming my soup…
Resuming my exploration of the gardens, I was pleased to see these Echium candicans, ‘Pride of Madeira’. I had bought the T-shirt when on that island. The flowerhead is about one-and-a-half times the size of a lupin head and much more dense.
The sun had been out for some time now, and I was sitting contemplating this area (the following three pictures) when it occurred to me that it would be a shame to see nothing more of the island while I was there.
So I made my way to the exit,
then turned back past the heliport, to the nearest beach. The sun had gone in now, and the breeze, from which the gardens shelter their visitors, was quite fierce. I saw no attraction in hanging around there,
so retraced my steps, past the entrance to the gardens this time, making for a round lake I could see on my map, hoping to be able to get close to it.
Sadly, I could get no closer to the lake than this, despite walking all the way round its extensive perimeter.
In due course, I was back at the heliport, but on the wrong side.
As I said in my previous post, I saw the previous flight come in and take off. Once the barrier was lifted, it was safe for me to cross to reception.
Wednesday, 29th June. It promised to be a reasonably fine morning. As the sun came up, it caught the feathers of the birds as beautifully as the setting evening sun did.
But I couldn’t hang around, I had to be at Penzance Heliport by 9.30.
I had booked to go to St Mary’s on the Isles of Scilly by helicopter in 2021, but that had been cancelled because of fog. A helicopter trip would have completed my trio of aerial ambitions. I had been in a glider in 2009 on an incredibly hot day,
and in a balloon exactly four years ago today (blog post here). So a helicopter trip would complete the trio, and Penzance to the Scillies would do nicely. This time, I had booked, with Penzance Helicopters, not to St Mary’s but to Tresco, because of the lovely Gardens there.
Our helicopter arrived and, having disgorged its incoming passengers, refuelled.
Still inside the building, we had a safety briefing. In due course we were directed to seats inside the aircraft. I was fortunate and had a window seat. (Given that there were 12 passengers in three rows, that was a 50/50 chance.)
We were off! But I had no camera. It was in my small backpack, which I had had to surrender to the hold. (It really was sardines inside the copter, and of course I was the only one wearing a mask – an FFP3 one.) But I had grabbed my phone, which took this outward series of pictures.
Penzance to Tresco is just 15 minutes, so the first of the 145 (five inhabited) Isles of Scilly soon came into sight.
I spent almost all of my time on the island in the Tresco Abbey Gardens, which will be the subject of my next post. (The weather much improved and I had a lovely time!)
I had to be back at the Heliport at 3.45 pm, one hour before take off. (It did seem to be an awful imbalance of time – a whole hour passed waiting for a 15-minute flight!) But half an hour before that I was (stuck) on the other side of the heliport, and saw the flight before arrive and take off. I did take a video of the latter, but had not reckoned on the enormous buffeting I would receive from the beast, which rendered the video useless.
After that hour, and another briefing, we were guided to the helicopter, and again I had a window seat.
I was able to recognise points of the island now as we flew away, the round lake I had not been able to get near, a larger one I should perhaps have headed for rather, and the bay I had visited, and of course the sheltered dark green mass of the Abbey Gardens.
We flew at 1000 feet/300 metres.
The captain helpfully pointed out that we were to pass the Minack Theatre – something I had not expected to see, and certainly not from this angle, for another two days.
Neither had I thought to see my car from above – the small one, fourth along,in the near row of eight vehicles.
And I was pleased see, as I happened to look up, St Michaels Mount. (Actually some miles away, but I zoomed in on it.)
Back at the ranch (The Old Quay House, Hayle), I caught up with the wildlife – that’s The Causeway behind.
I took a cup of tea out on the the patio, and was joined by a Herring gull. To cut a long story short, over fifteen minutes or so he came and went three times, and I suspected his motives.
A firm but not shouted ‘No’, such as I use on the cats when necessary, was sufficient to stop him breaking and entering. I think he must have found booty inside on previous occasions.
But the cheekiest was, he attempted to lift my mug up!
My verdict on the helicopter part of my trip to Tresco? Well, I’ve completed the trio of experiences, but this was all rather prosaic. Outstanding by far was the balloon, and the glider flight was wonderful. (If only it hadn’t been 30 degrees C. That, along with the fact that the pilot had to do a lot of circling to catch the thermals, meant that my tendency to travel sickness had kicked in.)
I’m fantasising about having a holiday in the Isles of Scilly. Should it come off, I shall go by boat, not least for environmental reasons.
Tuesday, 28th June. The first full day of my holiday, and the weather forecast for Cornwall, especially for the afternoon, was awful. But I’d known this for days, so was well-prepared not to do much.
It was high tide at 5.45 a.m.
I zoomed in to the cranes – of the mechanical kind – way across the water, to the north.
And went back to bed. By the time I was ready to have the breakfast awaiting me in the fridge, the tide was well on its way out.
Feeling I shouldn’t stay in all day, and with the weather forecast only for possible showers in the morning, I decided to do a little exploration locally, and just to take a walk into Hayle town, along a tiny part of the South West Coast Path (SWCP). As I set off, the play area of The Old Quay House was to my left. (My room is furthest away, behind the smaller tree.) The weather was definitely not such as would encourage other residents to sit out.
The SWCP route took me along The Causeway, beside the estuary. This was very busy, and I remain puzzled as to why so many would take it, as it leads through Hayle town, when the A30 bypass was so near. They can’t all have been wanting to end their journeys in Hayle can they? Fortunately there was a footpath all the way along, even if it did mean crossing the road a couple of times. Plenty of wildflowers along the way, including these orchids.
I was amused at the footprints left by the Shelduck.
I learned later in the week that Hayle has a very interesting history, and I must find out more, perhaps by visiting its Heritage Centre, if – hopefully when – I return to the area. This Wikipedia entry confirms!
The SWCP leaves the main road leftwards, briefly to take a path by Carnsew Pool, said to be of ornithological interest. (This map shows much of my walk.)
However, the path was very tricky at some points, due to erosion, especially for someone whose balance is less sure than it used to be, and who had not bothered to take her walking pole with her.
I resolved to stick to the road on on the way back – the sighting of one solitary Little egret not being sufficient enticement to risk the path again.
The SWCP returned to The Causeway, which itself went right then immediately left under the mainline railway viaduct.
Along the quayside, there followed a sequence of indications of Hayle’s past innovative and industrial importance.
I now had the choice of following the SWCP, along North Quay, or turning right along the main road. I decided on the former, but now know I made the wrong choice. Following the road would have taken me to some more mudflats and the possibility of seeing some more waders and other birds.
Between South Quay and North Quay was East Quay.
In deciding to follow the SWCP, I had basically decided sadly to walk alongside what turned out to be a huge building site, the controversial North Quay Development. (Incidentally, looking at various estate agents’ windows during the week, I was horrified at property prices in the area. No wonder local people have such a housing problem.) I walked along it for about 15 minutes, but it was clear that there was to be nothing of interest for a while more,
so I turned round, given also that time was passing.
When I got back to East Quay, I noticed a footpath to Hayle Station. Reckoning that this would be much quieter than the main road, that the station would not be far from the viaduct, and that there must be somewhere to get coffee near the station, I took it.
There was coffee. In a place which also sold second-hand clothing and tourist trinkets. A bit noisy as behind me there were two pairs of women, each putting the world to rights (in ways which I would have disputed) rather loudly. But there was coffee.
I retraced my steps back to The Old Quay House, entirely along The Causeway this time. Not too many photographs – the rain promised for the afternoon (it was indeed by now just midday) was starting.
Back in my room, I looked out across the estuary. The building works are scarcely visible in this zoomed photo through the teeming rain.
I ventured out again in the rain, first to a nearby wine shop – I had forgotten to buy a bottle at M and S the day before – and then to The Old Quay House’s dining room for a seafood kebab and a lemon cheesecake.
The afternoon was spent tucked up in my room, watching Rafa and Serena (her last Wimbledon appearance?), while simultaneously knitting, or listening to Steve Richards’s latest ‘Rock&Roll Politics’ podcast. (I found that triple-tasking was beyond me.)
I did just peek out of the doors around 3 p.m., to see Great black-back Gulls and Herring Gulls looking pretty miserable.
By the next high tide, around 6 p.m., the weather was beginning to clear up.
At 8 p.m. all was calm, presaging a much better day tomorrow – and that was very important to me. I had grand plans for it …