Boscastle, Cornwall, the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic, and a Hagstone

We left Ilfracombe and headed to one of the places I was most curious to visit: Boscastle and the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic.

Our way took us along the coast. What an incredible trip, with beauty around every curve.

And then we were in Boscastle. The online pictures I had seen were so beautiful, but would the place measure up?

Absolutely.

There is a coastal trail that goes from Boscastle to Tintagel, We are not up to that level of walking (yet-maybe one day) but it looks breathtaking. I found this video of the hike after we got home, and now I want to go back again!

I am not a believer in witchcraft--I am a folklorist and storyteller, and folk beliefs of all kinds interest me. I will admit, however to being just that little bit superstitious! I toss salt over my shoulder when I spill it, don't walk under ladders and the like. It is the history of the thing that attracts me, and leaves me wondering why people came to such beliefs. So, in we went.

The museum is much larger than it looks from the exterior. We wound through halls and passages, up steps and into room after room, all filled with fascinating items and documentation explaining the origins and customs surrounding each. The museum is largely built on the collection of one man,
Cecil Williamson, who moved the museum to Cornwall in the 1960's after having established it in several over location previously. the museum changed hands a couple of times, and is now run by Simon Costin, Director of the Museum of British Folklore.

Here is just a taste of the museum's contents. To truly explore its offerings would take days, if not weeks.

This display traces some of the persecution and trials of witches in Britain--an extensive and sobering reminder of how superstition and fear can lead to sometimes disastrous results.

Snap Apple, a popular game at Hallowe'en, is expained in detail in the display. We used to play this at Halloween when I was a child, but usually there was just one apple on a string, which we had to try to bite with our hands behind our backs. We also bobbed for apples in a tub of water, another old custom harking back to British roots.

 An apple garland, or the Garland of Knowledge, was believed to contain powers to help in divination and meditation. I have also read that it an apple wreath brings good fortune and fertility to a household.

Room after room contained displays like the ones below. Herbs, potions, charms, chants, symbols, talismans...you name it, this museum has it covered.

When we stopped at Abraeron a few days before, Larry picked up this stone. We thought it was interesting and unique, but little did we know its value.

In the museum we learned that a stone with a natural hole through it, like this one, is called a hagstone. People hung them outside their doors or stables to ward off evil. So maybe Larry's stone will be hung up outside our door, just in case. Oh, it has to be a natural stone, and found be accident. Not nearly so lucky it you drill the hole, or go looking for a hagstone on purpose.

The museum was damaged by a bad flash flood that struck Boscastle in 2004, but fortunately enough forewarning allowed many of the artifacts to be saved. Volunteers came to help in the cleanup effort, and there was a great alarm when a dead body was found in the flood debris--a body that turned out to be a wax model from the museum! You can read much more about the museum on their website.

Boscastle is still a working fishing village despite the influx of tourists today, as lobster traps stacked along the harbor show.

Umm, these smell...bad! Very fishy! I had to find out, to my dismay.

We ended our time in Boscastle at a pub for a quick cup of tea for me and a Guinness for Larry.

Lovely stonework, old beams, hanging mugs and pitchers, warm wood floors made this a comfortable, homey place to stop and rest. Because as we were to find out soon enough, "everywhere you want to go in Cornwall is up."

If you haven't noticed, Larry was loving the pubs and having his Guinness here and there! It was a treat for him, something that he cannot get at home except in bottles. And I loved being about to get a good HOT pot of tea anywhere we went. That is something we truly lack here in the states, except at fancy places that charge a fortune for the privilege.


We had our bread and cheese in the car, so we picnicked on that and some fruit before leaving this lovely place to continue to our next b&b, far up on Bodmin Moor.


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

England: Pubs and Food and Butcher Shops, A Randomly Rambling Post

This is the "pub tour." I told my husband I'd never been in so many bars in my entire life as I had during our stay in England. But a pub, as you probably know, is not a bar in the American sense. Pubs cater to families; the atmosphere is welcoming and friendly, and nowadays the old-time pub is shifting from a drinking establishment to more of a restaurant, with food gaining top billing.

These pics are in random order, with no real plan about how I presented them. I was just sorting through my photos and realized that I had quite a few of pubs and food, so here they are:

Below is the Red Lion in Grantchester. The exterior looks like Olde England, doesn't it? We didn't have an opportunity to eat here but did stop in one evening during their Beer Festival.

 

I was hoping for traditional music, but the night we visited the band was a reggae group. I like reggae but we weren't in the mood for it. It was chilly evening, too, and hanging out in a tent didn't look like fun to us. We did go inside briefly but didn't stay. The inside (no photos, unfortunately) was nice, very much like I expected with low ceilings, dark wood and warm golden light.

 

The Green Man is almost next door to the Red Lion. I loved the name; talk about harking back to olden times! Inside, however, it has been redecorated to a more upscale look, with the now-popular gray paint and clean modern lines. We ate lunch here; the food was good but the atmosphere was missing that coziness I associate with pubs, and there was no sign of the mysticism associated with the Green Man of folklore. Ah well.

Okay, this isn't a pub but I loved the pig outside! This was in Swaffham, and the name of the owner also struck me because my cousin Julie had told me just the day before that there were Papworths in our family tree. Meats and sausages displayed in the windows looked delicious. I wish we still had such shops in the US.

Again, not a pub but the next best thing: an English breakfast prepared by my cousin Les. I helped a little (only cooking the eggs). From the top, clockwise: toasted white bread that is much more full-bodied and flavorful than what passes for white bread in the US; good strong Yorkshire "Red" brand tea, black pudding (delicious!), broiled mushroom (to die for), fried egg, fresh tomato from the garden (the English and Irish like to cook the tomato but I prefer them fresh). In the center, sausages. I don't know what kind they were but they were delicious. While in the US "eating local" is a fairly new trend, in England people seem to eat that way as a matter of course. The eggs were free-range, the tomatoes grown by cousin John in Aunt Flo's garden, and Les knew the places where the sausage and black pudding were made.

This next photo was also in Swaffham, in the teashoppe where was stopped for a midmorning cuppa. Look at the cream on those scones! They were at least six inches high, I swear, heaped with raspberry jam and cream. My, my, my. I did not order one but they were certainly tempting.

 Now this was how I pictured a pub! This was the Rupert Brooke, Les' "local"--the place he went on weekends. Named for the poet who once lived in Grantchester and made it famous through his poem "The Old Vicarage, Grantchester", this was our last stop on our last evening in England, and it was a fine finish. It was reunion night for Les' class--they meet once a month here. When we walked in the place was alive with talk and laughter. We met Les' classmates and had a really good time talking with them all.

Warm and cozy atmosphere, comfortable seating, good company and good IPG ale--it was perfect. I, not being a beer drinker, stuck to my white wine. Before we left, the group sang "Country Roads" for us, the visiting West Virginians. We felt so welcome and at home! Sadly, the Rupert Brooke closed the next weekend, to be remodeled into an "upscale" restaurant. What could be more upscale than a place as welcoming as this?

I posted a bit about the Dog and Duck before. Owned by Les' friend Sam, this pub featured a fish and chips night that drew a large crowd. The food was excellent--it's odd how fried food can be so different. The fish and the potatoes were crispy and hot, but not at all greasy.

And look at this dessert! I ordered the chocolate-orange tart, which came with a side of vanilla ice cream. It was delicious, like a large chunk of chocolate with a hint of orange. Larry and I together could not eat all of it.

 

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.