Go West

I spoke to my mum this weekend after having a week’s break in Cornwall.

“Where have you been?”, she asked with the unspoken frustration of someone who has been waiting for a call all week. “Well, I’ve had a week off”, I answered honestly. She anxiously replied, “have you taken anything for it ?”

Eh? No, mum, not a wee cough, a week off! Mums! They just never want to let go, do they?

My week away was spent in Cornwall, home of a pace of life that we seem to have forgotten here in London. There’s very little traffic, tractors let you pass, people wave Thank You if you return the favour, and even the horses seem pleased to see you, leaving little presents all over the road.

We spent days doing ordinary family things including lond walks, cream teas and watching videos. My kids enjoyed Educating Rita but were surprised to realise that the very young Julie Walters in that movie is the same Ms Walters who is Ron Weasley’s mum in Harry Potter. My older daughter, in particular, was shattered that this young skinny girl could grow in to a plump, but kind, old witch. “Oh my gosh”, she said. Then, after a few seconds of pondering followed it with “Oh…....my…... gosh”. And then for full dramatic effect “Oh… my… actual… gosh!!” Not for the first time I thought those private school fees were a real investment.

However, idyllic though the week was, it started out badly with rain that was so torrential, blinding and persistent that my showerproof jacket was about as useful as a shark with rubber teeth. I knew immediately why most people in Cornwall own a boat. It’s to get the shopping in. I’ve never seen weather like it and I was soaked through.

As I sheltered for a moment in the Tourist Information shop in Plymouth, which is on the dock opposite where the Mayflower set sail, I realised why those pilgrims left for America. It wasn’t to spread the Christian message or to explore the New World. They’d had enough of the weather and were off to buy a holiday home in Florida. I asked the nice woman behind the information desk if the weather was always like this and she replied “No. Sometimes it really rains.”

I’m not sure how diligent the Customs people were in America when The Pilgrims arrived but if they had searched the immigrants’ suitcases then chances are they’d have found lots of pies being smuggled in as the Cornish are never far from a huge feed and live on clotted cream, which is something I highly recommend. I discovered they were ahead of their time too, going green before everyone else. For centuries they have been recycling their food leftovers, not in a special bin for the council but wrapped up in pastry instead. They call it a Cornish pastie.

Cornwall, home of the mighty Pirate FM Radio (no, really), boasts place names that let your imagination run riot. As we passed through the village of Hatt I imagined it was once the centre of production for bonnets and caps in Britain. The hamlet of Catchfrench made me think of invading naval fleets from across the Channel getting rounded up, and I don’t think I should share with you what I conjured up as we passed through the village of Stanleys Bottom though, as it’s situated between to hills, it does get a bit windy.

Souvenirs are a must in Cornwall with the usual tea towels, pirate’s chests, pints of clotted cream and postcards on sale everywhere, and I did notice that the big seller this year is a wall chart called the Volkswagen Camper Van Calendar with each month featuring, you’ve guessed it, a different coloured Volkswagen van - a snip at three pounds fifty. You’re all getting one for Christmas.

So, now I’m back and raring to go, refreshed and ready for the winter ahead. But, as I look at the rain pouring down here in London, am I counting the days to my next holiday already? Oh…. My….. Actual…. Gosh….Yes.