David Oates has provided us with a fair numbers of articles and now we include one of his poems which clearly found him in relective mood.
Godrevy was Camborne by the sea and in my childhood days it seemed as if we lived there – every day seemed fine, every sun-filled moment was filled with joy
Godrevy days,
When perched on push-bike bar
We flowed in happy throng
Through lanes still wet with dew,
Descending to the sea.
Godrevy days,
Freewheeling fast to freedom,
The foundry’s filth and smoke
That forged our weekday chains
Now sets us free
Godrevy days,
The joy of that first glimpse
Of light-house framed in sky,
Of cowslip scent and salt-filled air
A summer day distilled.
Godrevy days,
Of parsley pasty baked that morn
A smell that makes the belly long
For juices rich and rare to spill
Down cheek and chin.
Godrevy days,
Of primus singing songs of joy,
Of tea strong-brewed and brown,
Enamel-cupped, in picnic best
Nectar to our tongues.
Godrevy days,
Of bubbling pot with salty tang,
Of limpets plucked from rocks still wet,
To boil with heavenly scent
Essence of those days.
Godrevy days,
Of sun-burnt backs and sand-rubbed thighs
Of swim-suits, woollen made,
That water-heavy slip in surf
To leave you bare.
Godrevy days,
Of weary legs up Prosper Hill,
Of nodding heads that nestle deep
In shoulders soft with care
A day sent on.
Godrevy days,
Of summer nights awake
With backs that pulse and throb
From heat of noon-day sun.
A pleasant pain.
Godrevy days,
Of drifting dreams that last
Through still and scent filled nights,
Returning joys of gentle days
That touch me still.
David Oates is a Cornish bard who has published a history of Troon, entitled “Echoes of an Age”, a guide to Godrevy and Gwithian, “Walk the hidden ways” and a slim volume of his own verse, “Poems from the far west”. His unpublished work includes a reflection on a Cornish childhood, “What time do they close the gates, Mister?” and a fictionalised story for young people based on the extant life of St Gwinear, with the working title, “The son of a king”. David is working on another guide in the “Walk the hidden ways” series, entitled “Hard Rock country”.
David is a tenor singer with the well-known group, Proper Job based in mid- Cornwall and has collaborated with Portreath musician, Alice Allsworth, to write the lyrics for a number of songs about Cornwall and the Cornish.
I also remember the magic of cycling to Godrevy with a gang of friends, boys and girls,from our home village of Troon. It always seemed to be sunny ( which must have influenced oour decision to make the trip ) and how we spent time on thje beach with a few brave souls swimming in the Sheep’s Pool. As a poor swimmer I did’t risk that and I aslo remebered that it was rumoured that one of an earlier bunch of Troon boys had drwoned in the Pool.
A long time ago and I hope that the current youngsters still enjoy making the same trip and the pleasure it gives-being so far away from home!
My first 5 years(1946-51) were spent in Gwithian, living at Orchard Close opposite the church. My mother was divorced, and worked in the County Hall, as the deputy childrens’s officer (as it was in those days). She had no car, but cycled daily to Gwinear Road station for the train. In the cold days of inter she wore a gas mask to keep her face warm(er)
My Grandmother brought me up in what was a very loving time for me.
I remember being taught to swim at Godrevey and Fishermans (around the Corner).
I remember my grandmother taking me in her arms to see the Christmas Lights (four bulbs-Red, blue , green and yellow) outside the Inn. Never have any christmas lights rivalled these) Not even Regent Street up London Churchtown!!
I wish that my mother and grandmother (both dead now ) could have read this poem perhaps they can!! They would have loved it!