The Pelican Inn

A short flight up the coast, hundreds of years ago

Having cause to find a place to stay on short notice is not entirely bad. And being led to The Pelican Inn in Muir Beach by a love of charming places was entirely good.  A replica of a 16th century Tudor inn, the Pelican is something to experience.

Cozy.  Ales.  Cozy.  Bangers. Cozy. Mash.  Like that.

You get lost in the crookedness and curves and charm and details, and love that went into this place.  You stay up late with the staff and other guests tasting wine and playing darts.  You wish to stay suspended in time.

Only seven rooms, each kept by a metal key.



Not-so-square doors (duck if you are tall).  And: if you stay in room 7, a secret stairway to the “Snug” (a private room with fireplace, where, back in the day, women who drank used to hide and imbibe).

The mantel in the dark pub dining room is engraved with FEAR KNOCKED AT THE DOOR, FAITH ANSWERED ~ NO ONE WAS THERE.


Write your initials here, over the thick tapestried canopied bed.


Rooster courage greets and sees you off.


Metal piece honoring Sir Francis Drake, who beached his ship nearby… way back then.


The Tudor bar, with date carved in, adds authenticity.

Dannie on Bed Rest (briefly), Movie Watching (Rather a Lot), and Dawn Clements

Well hello darlings, it’s been a little while.

Did you watch the Oscars a couple weeks ago? Did you swoon over some dresses and wince over others? It is, you know, tantamount to the Super Bowl for some of us, particularly those of us fond of sequins/sparkles, overwrought acceptance speeches, far reaching tributes, photo montages, red carpet mayhem,  [sometimes] painfully bad musical numbers and general Hollywood hijinks.

No longer a resident of Los Angeles, I think my non-proximity to the Industry writ large has actually caused me to be nostalgic for the whole spectacle, and thus, oh yes, I very surely watched the Awards, the pre-shows, and the post-shows, and read blog after blog after blog. Excessive? Maybe a little. But it only happens once and year, and besides, I have another good reason.

I’ve been sick. And thus, rather annoyed. A deathcold, really. Not fun, but not life-threatening – but just enough so that standing is a precarious thing, and walking about is unpleasant. I don’t like being sick and I like even less being sick just when the weather is finally getting nice, but sometimes it happens – particularly after flying, so I’ve taken to drinking copious amounts of water, eating chicken soup, taking lots of vitamins, taking luxuriant naps and availing myself of the streaming feature on my Netflix account.

Which means, at least for me,…costume dramas, police/legal procedurals en masse (shameful? It depends on your definition), swoony embarrassing romantic comedies, feel-good girl movies (saw WHIP IT the other day, which was actually adorable and I wholly recommend seeing it), and last but certainly not least, a healthy dose of 1940s cinema, often but not always Noir.

Film Noir is something I’ve had a developing fascination, aided and abetted by a musicology seminar in college about the scores of Otto Preminger/Jacques Torneur/etc. films – and also by talking over wine and chocolate with Waxing Poetic’s very own Brianna Colburn, whose self-described ‘nerdy, perverse love’ of the genre was intriguing because in summary, black and white films about mob bosses, frame jobs, and low-life crime aren’t necessarily things I’d immediately associate with her. And then she said it was largely because of the clothes.

So… I watched LAURA, which, if you haven’t seen it (I hadn’t), is great. This is Netflix’ summary, which roped me in because if nothing else, watching pretty things (yay cinematorgraphy!) is a good distraction at any point:

Laura Hunt (Gene Tierney) has been murdered, and as New York City Det. Mark McPherson (Dana Andrews) investigates, he finds that everyone seems to be in love with her — and he, too, gradually falls under her spell. But things aren’t always what they seem. Otto Preminger’s classic mystery received four Academy Award nominations, including a nod for Best Director, and won the Oscar for Best Cinematography.

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