THE YEAR 2000: A NEW MILLENNIUM
	GOLANT HUMAN SUNDIAL MILLENNIUM PROJECT. After much consultation and fundraising it was decided to create and install a carved slate Sundial on the Village Green to celebrate the new Millennium. On the 10th May 1999 the Slate was collected from Dellabole Quarry.
On the 16th May 1999 everyone turned out to carve the Slate. The Villagers were advised and assisted by Master Mason,Geoff Cowling.

On the 20th June 1999 an arm of Volunteers commenced the instalation: Much Mathematics, Geometry, Astronomy and Wizardry was employed to ensure the precise alignment of the Sundial. It was difficult to select a photo which did not consist of lots of bums in the air.
Now, which way is Mecca?
	Ready for testing. 8th November 1999
ON THE EVE OF THE NEW MILLENNIA: 31ST DECEMBER 1999 A TORCHLIGHT PROCESSION AROUND THE VILLAGE, CULMINATING WITH SINGING AND MERRIMENT AROUND THE SUNDIAL.	Lots more pictures of this event can be seen on You Tube.... CLICK HERE

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The following is an entry which was recently placed in the golant website guest book...................................... Says it all I think.

I thought I ought to write and share my belated sorrow at the death of Phil Reardon. I first met Phil at Craft Supplies in Derbyshire in 1979/80(?) and enjoyed a course with him. I lived not far away in Wirksworth and later a course at John Boddy's in Boroughbridge Yorkshire, where I had the pleasure of teaching him Backgammon in a local pub in the evenings in exchange for some further turning tips!. His humour, apart from his skill, will forever stay with me. I met him many subsequent times at shows up and down the land. His 'quirky' projects reproduced in the Woodturner, I still refer to for inspiration. I was hoping to get in touch with him again and when I googled his name, I came upon the sad loss to the world of his personality. he obviously made a positive impact wherever he went and settled!
Much missed and woodturning has lost a unique character.
Regards
Paul Cross

Phil Reardon.

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Diana Luck

THE BRIDE ARRIVES

November 1947 Sixty-one years ago I came to live in Golant. We had just got married— in Dorset. The war was over but the peace had hardly begun. Everything was rationed. Food was short. I had not seen the house. "What does Bodriggan mean?" I asked. Someone said "The Dwelling above the salt tides seaward flow." "Nonsense," some­one else said. But I liked it. I looked at the river and was very aware of the amazing surge and pull of water twice a day. Understood by the birds and the sea-creatures no doubt, but not by us. This is my place, I thought— here I shall stay.

There were two shops— Charrington Stores (now Water's Edge) and the Post Office and Stores run by Arthur Geake. Trains ran up and down between Lostwithiel and Fowey, stopping at Golant Halt. No need for a car.

The village was full of Tabbs. They were the Royal Family— ruled by old man Tabb (living where Vilma & Robert now live). I was taken to meet him and he gave me some very strong cider; I could hardly get home!

John Vincent, a very young boy, delivered the milk with his pony and cart. Don Luke, who lived with the Charring-tons, would deliver the groceries from the shop.

The vicar was a splendid ex-soldier called Henry Osborne. He and his wife Coralie had simple strong faith in the Army and God— in that order.

We had a sort of cook-housekeeper called Jessie— a mad, mad cockney who was evacuated from bombed London and somehow finished up with my mother, but she insisted on coming to live with us. She remained for years- creat­ing havoc and mischief, but her chickens kept us in eggs. When the children came she delighted in teaching them to swear, which resulted in disciplinary confusion!

Life was good. We walked, sailed, swam in the river, made friends.

The next stage was more complicated, which I can relate if anyone wants to read it.

 Reprinted from the  October 08 edition of the Pill. ( Sadly, no one got around to asking Diana to relate 'the next stage' )

Diana sailing her dinghy Nicky II on the Camel estuary, rather than the Fowey. Must have been taken shortly before her marriage in 1947 so is pretty much contemporary with what she was writing about - her arrival in Golant as a new bride.

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Roger Tabb

 Gillie and I dropped in for a chat and a cuppa with Roger & Cynthia Tabb recently. We first met Roger and his lifelong friend, Henry Blowey Thomas, when we bought our Ply­mouth Pilot from them. Sadly, Henry died in 2000.

Henry had built his house, Robin Hill, up near the Downs and both he & Roger were rotavating in the field one day when they heard the sound of horns heralding the approach of Geoff White with his pack of hounds and fellow hunts­men. Suddenly out of the ferns there appeared a beautiful fox. It took no notice of the two men but casually jumped up on to the roof of Henry's garage and lay down. Geoff and the huntsman passed by but the hounds never picked up the scent of the fox. When all was quiet again, the fox jumped down and sauntered off in the opposite direction to the hunters.

Roger's father was one of a family of six boys and six girls who grew up in Golant and built the bungalow, Fairvieiw, in which Roger has lived all his life. Pat Morgan is the only other sibling and his cousins Colin, Vic & Angela Forsyth are still in the village.

As a young boy, he remembers many American service­men with affection. He was hired to take them upriver to shoot ducks, fishing or 'whiffing' for sand eels. With his fam­ily restricted to food rationing, he was forever grateful for their generous gifts of tinned fruit, bacon, meat and so on.

Roger trained as a fireman on the railway. After active service with the army in Egypt, he returned to his old job on the steam engines, stopping at Golant Halt several times a day. Then came the Draconian closure of swathes of railways across the country including the public rail link between Lostwithiel and Golant. Roger then moved to Fowey, dock­ing and loading ships- "...the best job and the best bosses (ECLP) I ever had..."

Roger & Henry Thomas were lifelong friends. Henry was born in Plymouth but he often came to stay with his grand­parents, the Thomases, at Golant. He had trained as a ship­wright at Plymouth Dockyard. Together the two young men had considerable skills when it came to boats and fishing.

The boys took every opportunity to make a few pence. Rabbits caught on the Downs and fish pulled from the river were plied around the village. A black rabbit did not usually draw a favourable price. On one occasion, however, a lady staying where the Gees now live saw things differently. "I expect that black rabbit is more expensive, isn't it?" Quick as a flash Henry agreed with her and the money changed hands. Sometimes the pair found themselves acting 'in a grey area' as far as the law was concerned. One night they set a net across the river halfway between Sawmills and No 8 jetty. They were concerned when they heard die sound of a boat approaching very fast The boar careered into their net, the engine stopped and the occupant went head-over-heels in the boat. "His lan­guage was something else!"

They honed their skills in repairing boats. Once they de­cided to go up to St Winnow about a boat but they knew that the tide had turned already and time was short. They motored up but, on the way back, they missed the channel and went aground. There was only one way to get back home. They stripped off all their clothes and went over the side. Carefully holding their clothes on their heads they found themselves sinking well past their knees in the mud. As they began to haul the heavy boat across the mud to reach the safety of the channel, Henry moaned and grumbled ceaselessly; Roger, hearing his moans and looking back to see his friend up to his knees in mud and showing his essential parts, laughed so much mat he could hardly do his share of the hauling!

During the Second World War, they were salmon fishing in the middle of the never below St Winnow, when a German plane swooped down towards them. There was a loud bang as the plane fired at bellscat killing all the chickens. The plane was shot down out at sea and the pilot ended up working on a local farm.

Henry had not pursued his trade as a shipwright. Instead, he had owned a flourishing greengrocery business at Wadebridge. Then came the day when Roger rang to tell him that, at 55 yrs old he had been given a golden handshake from Fowey Docks and was now officially- retired. "If you're re­tired, I'm retired," was the reply. The

Greengrocery business sold within a fortnight just before a slump!) And the two were soon back pursuing their love of titivating boats and fishing.

 Reproduced from an article by Mike Harris in the Pill magazine April 09.

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IT'S NEVER TOO LATE FOR WALLY!

Wally Simpson

Many villagers will remember with affection Wally Simpson, who lived with his partner, Elizabeth, at Myrtle Cottage until they moved to Polruan four years ago. It was some time before I discovered that Wally is, in fact, a celebrated playwright whose name was 'up in lights' with Beckett and Pinter. Kenneth Tynan wrote that he is "the most gifted comic writer the English stage has discovered since the war." Wally, ever self-deprecating, has said recently that he thought that Tynan changed his mind later on. Admirers of his craft and originality in­clude many of the greats of comedy in the last half cen­tury— the late Peter Cook, John Cleese, Eleanor Bron, John Fortune and John Bird to name but a few. I have heard Joan Bakewell extolling his greatness on a few oc­casions. Indeed, Radio 4 has made a documentary enti­tled Reality is an Illusion Caused by Lack o/NF Simpson!

I have always loved what many consider to be his masterpiece, One Way Pendulum, in which a family train five hundred Speak Your Weight machines to sing the Hallelujah Chorus. When I met them first, I can recall Elizabeth telling me about the play, hardly able to talk because of laughing so much at such an absurd idea!

Recently, at the ripe age of 88 years, Wally is back in fashion. His play "A. Resounding Tinkle" which includes Peter Capaldi in the cast, has been playing to full houses at the Donmar theatre in London and is a roaring suc­cess ("Sparkling revival" Daily Telegraph}. Written in 1958, it concerns a couple in suburbia who have taken delivery of a wrong-sized elephant.

Wally's latest play, If So, Then Yes has been read at the Royal Court to much delight and acclaim. Amongst many other outrageous ideas, it argues that there was no serpent in the Garden of Eden, but an unusually long sausage dog! It is hoped that this play will be staged somewhere in the near future.

I hadn't spoken to Wally for some time but, as usual, when I spoke to him today on the phone I felt immediately that I was in tune with him. He was as un­assuming and modest as ever about his successes in 2007 which have been covered in national newspapers. It was obvious, though, that he had derived great pleasure from smelling the atmosphere in a London theatre once again and seeing some of his creations coming to life and caus­ing so much laughter amongst everyone around him.

There's not enough laughter in the world these days. Let's have more NF Simpson!

Reprinted from an article by Mike Harris in the October 07 Pill magazine.

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1871 Aug 5 Golant Regatta - A very animated and picturesque appearance Monday afternoon, this year's regatta was quite equal to those which have preceded it. The weather was beautifully fine, the attendance of spectators considerable. Although the number of races was not large, the competition was very spirited. The Committee included Capt. William Smith, of Polruan, Judge and Starter....The course was very long, nearly 4 miles round. The band of Par Volunteer Artillery was present and played at intervals. First match for 1st class 2 oared boats 15' and under -best prize was easily won by 'Star' (Butson, Polruan) by nearly 100 lengths. Second match for 4 oared ships boats not exceeding 16 1/2' - 5 entries. 3rd race or 4 oared boats not exceeding 15'. 4th race for Isr class 2 oared boats not exceeding 10 ft. Gig and punt chase and other amusements concluded the sports.

Fowey Gazette 1871

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John Fuge

Gillie and I popped in to have a cup of tea and a chat with John Fuge and his wife Nita recently. John had just cele­brated his eightieth birthday though he couldn't see it a? A cause for celebration. Their cottage, Sea View, was built in 1838 and was a shop for groceries & bread for sixty years. It then passed into the hands of Nita's maternal grandfather who rented it for a few years before being given it as a reward for faithful service as gardener to the Mills family at Torfrey. There were two greenhouses at Torfrey House in which grapes, cucumbers & pineapples were nurtured, as well as a peach house. A strict Methodist, the only work he would do on a Sunday would be to go up to stoke the boiler for the vinery7. In 1946 Nita's grandfather wrote a fascinating ac­count of how he and his wife had developed their cottage through their married years.

John's father had been born in Norway Cottage and he himself was born in St Blazey. Nita's parents had emigrated to Los Angeles where Nita (nee Dyer) was born, but she and her mother returned when she was only three and a half. John and Nita were at school together. "I had to drag my anchor from Fowey," said John when they married and they moved in with Nita's mother at Sea View.

John recalled that life was hard in those days. As a baby, he was often wrapped up and placed in the prow of the boat as his parents went seine fishing for salmon. The fish were sold to a local shop owner. As John grew up he helped his father with the fishing. His father once caught a record-breaking salmon weighing 353/4ibs. Unfortunately, the salmon season didn't begin until the next day but somehow the fish still appeared on the fishmonger's slab. It was com­mon in those days to hear corncrakes and nightjars on the river.

John served as an apprentice boat builder at Fowey. "When it was dark we were only allowed one candle to see by. We had to move that candle along to show the mark as we sawed the long planks. We used to start a pulling (rowing) boat on a Monday and we'd be varnishing it on die Saturday." One day he and his boss were caulking a deck at Mixtow. John, wearing corduroy trousers, was carrying the large pot of molten tar to the shed when he slipped and the tar went over his trousers burning several holes. "What's it 'ot, boy?" shouted his boss. For ages afterwards those trousers re­mained in use complete with holes & tar. After gaining experience with a variety of employers, he went into the Merchant Navy for a time before trying his hand at mackerel fishing.   He helped to make boats for the French and    Belgian    govern­ments, minesweepers     at Charles town and a fast cruiser for     General    Browning    at Fowev & made improvements to the original design of the Troy   boats    For   years   he made boats where the lifeboat station stands today in Fowey | and then had the workshop built at the bottom of his garden. In earlier Years he and Roger Tabb used the first shed on the Beach for making and repairing boats in the evenings and weekends. They had four Tilley lamps to see by "..But only two ever worked properly at any one time."

Xita was heavily involved in village activities. We've shown photos of her taking part in past carnivals. She was on the organising committee when the old school was converted to die village hall, followed by the conversion and refurbish­ment of the derelict Reading Room— a major project for such a small place. She played the organ every other week in the chapel at Golant (Geoff White's sister, Barbara, or his mother played on the other weeks). On one occasion, Nita played a tune at a service, which was not too well known. By the time she had walked home, someone had rung an aunt in Newquay who, in turn had rung her mother to tell her that "Nita has just disgraced herself by playing the wrong tune!"

Both John & Nita recall many characters in the village. Major Roberts, of Torfrey House, drank at the pub twice a day. If the pub was not open when he arrived, he would climb in through a window, open the door to let in other cus­tomers and start serving the drinks! He took great delight in walking through the village, a pint of beer in his hand, to greet the Methodists as they returned from their Sunday ser­vice.

We look forward to sharing a cup of tea and hearing tales of times past with other villagers soon.

Reproduced from an article by Mike Harris in the Pill magazine Feb. 09