Right, where was I? Mazey day in Penzance was a real blast and the whole long weekend of Golowan was taken up with catching up with old mates, drinking, listening to some outstanding bands and indulging in hard core pasty eating. What's not to like? Cornish festivals tend to bring all the old hippies and punks out of the woodwork. Faces pickled a deep walnut colour by sun and alcohol, many are local but many more came down on youthful camping expeditions thirty, forty or fifty years ago and just never got round to going home. During my long association with Cornwall I have had a brief but eventful career on a Newlyn gill-netter (one trip, less said the better), indulged in Cornish wrestling and suffered some quite spectacular hangovers amongst other adventures. During my time away I hardly watched any TV, never looked at a newspaper or listened to the radio. Only now am I finding that against a background of progressives struggling against the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, Channel 4 have decided to broadcast the call to prayer during the month of Ramadan. I imagine that the British Humanist Association will be having something to say about this - and quite rightly so.
* Emmit. Cornish for ant and derogatory term for tourists. (They get everywhere.)
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