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We recently invited people to share their stories and memories of Fowey, and were delighted to receive this contribution from William Stobbs.
Of all the characters I have known in Fowey, or anywhere else, Jim Buscombe remains one of the most memorable. He was one of those rare people who seemed entirely at home in the world. Happiness came easily to him, especially in simple things: a pint, a friendly word, a day’s work done well.
His Cornish speech was so broad that even some local people struggled to follow it. Oddly, my parents and I, born in Tyne and Wear and having spent much of our lives in the United States, usually understood him perfectly. Jim had a nickname for almost everyone, and a way of putting people at ease, whoever they were.
Once, a distinguished guest at the Fowey Hotel joined him at the bar. The gentleman had served as physician to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, yet titles and ceremony meant little to Jim. Before long, the two were talking companionably over a pint, as though they had known each other for years.
There was courage beneath that easy manner. Jim rarely spoke about the Second World War, but he once showed me a long letter from an army officer. In a German-controlled prisoner-of-war camp, Jim had apparently taken the officer’s place so that the man could be released for important military work. The letter, sent after the war, was full of gratitude. Jim kept it quietly, without making a fuss.
At home, his wife was small in stature but formidable in authority. If Jim returned after one pint too many, she might send him to sleep in the garden shed. He accepted the sentence cheerfully. He adored her.
We first met Jim around 1989, when he began calling at the hotel for a pint or two. My parents, Bill and Mavis Stobbs, had bought the Fowey Hotel, now the Harbour Hotel, a few years earlier. In former days, local people had not always felt especially welcome there. My parents changed that. The bar became a friendly meeting place, and groups such as the Lifeboat Committee and the Diving Club were invited to gather without charge. Hotel guests enjoyed meeting local people, too; it gave them a glimpse of Fowey life beyond the view from their windows.
Photograph: Jim at the Fowey Hotel bar with Fowey locals Ray Barker and Roger Quinn, and hotel guest Milton Lessner from the USA.
When my father discovered that Jim knew how to build dry-stone walls, he asked him to work on the hotel gardens, helped by our maintenance man, Ray. Over two or three years in the early 1990s, the walls took shape in the upper and lower gardens, stone by carefully chosen stone.
Jim died in September 1994, but his handiwork remained. Those walls were practical, sturdy and full of character, rather like the man who built them. For those of us lucky enough to know him, they still bring back the sound of his broad Cornish voice, his cheerful stories and the warmth he carried with him wherever he went.
Share your Fowey Story: Jim Buscombe’s story is a warm reminder that the people who shape Fowey often leave their mark in quiet, lasting ways. If you have a memory, character or local tale to share, we would love to hear it for the Fowey Stories series.