If I had been a criminal in an earlier life, I’m sure I would have been a smuggler. Why is it that there is something so romantic about Cornish smugglers and moonrakers and yet something quite ugly about 21st century smuggling? I think Daphne du Maurier might have something to do with this …
I’ve had a very busy day as we’re putting the finishing touches to a major project – watch this space, it’s launching soon – so haven’t had a huge amount of time for tracking down a lingtow (‘A coil of rope worn over the shoulder by smugglers’, OED). I snapped various bits of rope (mainly in Mayfair with bright shiny brass balls on the top) but in the end decided to go with Lee’s bracelet, which could well have slipped down from his shoulder. Ok, so smugglers (or lingtowmen) probably didn’t wear silver ropes, but I’m sure there were plenty of skulls after the wreckers did their bit. And how does the cross fit into all this? Remember the vicar in Jamaica Inn? Which brings us neatly back to Daphne du Maurier…
Day #65 of a 365 project, where the daily pic is informed by the OED word of the day.