Why they decided not to shoot Friends in Truro

I always longed for untameable corkscrew ringlets. But my hair is just sort of medium-curly.

However, I have noticed that I'm definitely curlier in Cornwall.

The humidity and frequent mizzle are a delight for mosses and fungi.
And for my hair.

But this brings me to my main point.

This was the main reason why they decided not to shoot the hit comedy show Friends in Cornwall after all.

It is likely that the first attempt to film the series Friends took place in Truro (the glittering metropolis).

Every day the glamorous set would be ready – a flat in an ex-warehouse overlooking the Truro River.  Phoebe, Joey etc would be standing around bantering about the tourist traffic on the A30. Ross would be waiting for Rachel to arrive with an armful of scones for a proper cream tea (jam first). 

But where would Rachel be?

At length somebody would go to find her and she would finally arrive. She would be crying but it would be hard to see the tears as her head would be surrounded by a cloud of magnificent curls.

“My hair,” she would sob, “It just won’t stay straight.”

So it is purely down to Jennifer Aniston’s unreasonable attitude to curly hair that the whole show had to be moved to New York.

A sad loss.

Just think how much better Friends would have been if Central Perk had served pasties.

Boscawen Park x 3

Boscawen Park is a charming place, but I didn’t expect to visit it three times in two days.

I arrived in Truro Tuesday afternoon and took Mum and Dad straight out to the park for a toddle round the lake.  We spotted swans with seven cygnets (shouldn’t somebody write a popular Christmas song about this?), gave grain to the ducks and even to the glossy purple-black rooks who have muscled in on the act.

That evening, I was meeting Fiona to go to the pub.  I’d assumed somewhere in town, but she’d chosen the Heron at Malpas, so her husband kindly ferried us to Boscawen so we could walk the rest of the way along the tree-rooty footpath beside the river.

In the mean time, ignorant of Fiona’s plan, I’d arranged to meet Jennie on Wednesday, in order to walk to the Heron.  Where were we meeting?  Boscawen Park of course.  Jennie turned up in slingbacks so we chose the road this time.

But even though I’d visited three times, Boscawen Park still managed to spring a surprise on me.  I was watching the surface of the lake, when two beady eyes met mine.  Surfacing to grab a breath of air was a large terrapin.  They are not native to the UK so it must have been an abandoned pet.  Good old Boscawen!