Thứ Sáu, 6 tháng 7, 2012

View from our room at the Greenbank Hotel in Falmouth

We were to spend the next three nights in Falmouth's Greenbank Hotel. Located just a few minutes walk along the harbour front from the centre of town, I would describe the decor of the Greenbank as genteel olde-world English rather than North American glitz.

To reach the hotel we passed a sea wall sprouting clumps of pink and scarlet Valerian, and Originon dappled on slender stems like delicate lace. Along the way roses blowsy in the heat of summer, hydrangeas and fragrant honeysuckle perfumed miniature gardens.Leaning on the sea wall, I watched enchanted as a party boat broke free from surrounding yachts. Music trailed like a bridal veil from the rear of the boat, and seagulls, hundrds of them, like tossed confetti, swooped and dived in its wake.

Falmouth main street

Standing in the foyer imagined Florence Nightingale, a one time guest, making her entrance in a no-nonsense I'm in charge manner.  In the sitting room with its large comfy chairs and quiet elegance I could also imagine Kenneth Graham, author of that children's classic, “Wind in the Willows”, writing the letters to his son that subsequently became part of the “Wind in the Willows” story. Graham wrote those letters to his son while staying in the Greenbank Hotel. A massive intricately carved wooden seat at the hotel entrance conjured an image of two Victorian ladies whispering secretly behind fluttering fans as they awaited their carriage and a ride to afternoon tea with a titled friend.
The Greenbank, with large windows that open to a spectacular view of a flotilla of yachts at anchor, certainly has the prime position on the sea wall overlooking one of the largest natural harbours in the world.In our room with a view, we took a momentary break before setting out to explore. Within minutes we were confronted at the window by a curious seagull. Strutting up and down, squawking as they do, and finally hopping onto the window sill and knocking over a half empty cup of tea in its efforts to snatch a cookie, we were formally adopted for the next three days. No matter what time we arrived back, there he was, and if we didn't open the window, he tapped urgently on the glass with his beak. I must admit to enjoying and photographing all his facial expressions as he watched us from his window perch.He was cause for some alarm on one occasion when James, my husband, threw him a half eaten raw salmon sandwich. Catching it mid-flight, he tossed it in the air, caught it lengthwise and eventually swallowed it – with difficulty - just as they do when catching a fish.

Photos copyright Anne Gordon

Posted on Friday 6th July, 2012

Không có nhận xét nào:

Đăng nhận xét