A novel about Cornwall by Daphne du Maurier

I HAVE BEEN TO CORNWALL many times, and always enjoy visiting this unique part of the UK. For many years, it was the home of the author Daphne du Maurier (1907-1989). She died in the Cornish town of Fowey, where she had a house, which is still owned by her family. Despite having visited Cornwall so many times, it was only recently (October 2023) that I first read one of her novels. The one I chose is called “The House on the Strand”. It is an exciting book, which is difficult to set aside once you begin reading it.

Richard Young is spending a holiday in Cornwall in a house owned by his old friend, a scientist Magnus, who is a professor at the University in London. Magnus has developed a set of related drugs, which he and Richard decide to test on themselves. Both men experience the same effects of these hallucinogenic substances. Within minutes of drinking a dose, they are transported back to 14th century Cornwall and become witnesses to events that they later discover had been recorded in historical records. Both men become witnesses to things that were happening during that far off period in the area where Magnus’s house is located. The desire to know more and more leads both men to keep taking the drug.

Things begin to get complicated when sooner than expected Richard’s wife and his stepchildren join him in Cornwall. The drug has odd side-effects that make Richard’s wife both worried and suspicious. As the days pass, things become more and more complicated, and eventually there is a series of tragic events.

The plot is ingenious and intriguing. By transporting Magnus and Richard back to mediaeval times, the author was able to describe Cornwall today and as it might have been in those days. The novel is also about addiction and how it develops. Further, Du Maurier describes the conflict between truth, half-truth, and deception. Not only is this novel a delightful story about Cornwall but also it is a brilliant depiction of certain types of human behaviour and how it has changed over the centuries.

Time zones and … O Juice

clock

 

I am writing this on the 30th of March,  the day after that on which the UK was scheduled to leave the EU, but did not. This day, Saturday,  is in the last weekend of March. Early on Sunday morning, we shift from Greenwich Mean Time to British Summer Time, by advancing our clocks by one hour.

In late 1994, while we were on holiday in California, we decided to drive over to the State of Arizona to see Lake Havasu City. After London Bridge was dismantled in 1968, its stones were carefully labelled and sent to Lake Havasu City, where it was reconstructed. By 1971, the bridge had been re-built in a picturesque lakeside position where it has become one of Arizona’s major tourist attractions.

After settling into a motel, we wandered over to a restaurant. For the duration of our evening meal we were the only diners. I ordered ‘New York Steak’, which turned out to be strips of beefsteak. Soon after taking our order, the waitress returned and asked: “D’ya want it with or without O Juice?”

I had never heard of eating steak with orange juice, so I said:

“Excuse me, what did you say?”

She replied, slightly impatiently: 

“O juice, you know kinda gravy.”

What sounded like ‘O Juice’ was the waitresses attempt to pronounce the French culinary term ‘au jus‘.

After eating our meal, it was only eight o’clock. We asked the waitress where were all of the other diners and why was she clearing all the tables and stacking the chairs, getting ready to close the eatery.

“It’s  getting late you know”

“But it’s only eight,” we retorted.

“Nope, it’s nine,” she informed us.

We had not realised that by crossing from California to Arizona, we had moved into a time zone one hour ahead of California.