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Thursday, 17 August 2017

Cornwall 2017 - Part 4

Tuesday 15 August

We're enjoying our new pitch a lot more in the far more civilised Caravan Club field here.  Whilst there are children about, they are not running amok and kicking footballs everywhere.

It stopped raining at 6.30pm ish last night and it's been dry ever since, but on my early morning trip over to teh toilet block the ground was decidedly moist under foot, and there was much squelching to go with the flip flopping on my footwear.

After yesterday's early start (for her anyway) Herself is treating herself to a Lie in.  i spring open the front blind and take in the view, looking straight out onto The Atlantic and the Isles of Scilly.  I fire up my ipad and switch into full on anorak mode tracking the traffic using the shipping lanes from the comfort of the front lounge.



After breakfast I borrow a fork off the owners to prod our pitch a little in an attempt to help the drainage.  We have guests arriving in the shape of  Ronnie and YG this evening and they's stopping a few nights with us.  The sleeping annex gets erected before we embark on a good few hours of personal contemplation in the recliners.


The afternoon flew by and it's 4.30pm before I've stopped dribbling.  Ronnie is on his way but has failed to find our air bed back home.  We dart into Penzance to get robbed in Argos for one, pick up some pasties for the fridge, and dart back to site to complete setting up the bedroom pod.

After a quick freshen up we head back out to The Queens Arms in Bottelack.  We know from memory that they have a lovely beer garden that catches the evening sun.  Dinner is eaten alfresco with the sun on my chops.  Sea food cocktail and Lamb strips kebab hit the spot nicely.




We've not been back and Ronnie rocks up in his Beamer.  We hang around long enough for them to unload then we head out to enjoy drinks on the veranda of Ben's at Sennen.  We bag a table over looking the beach, which at 9pm is still very busy.  Not only are groups down there huddled around fires, but surfers are still doing their stuff and some teenagers are still in bathers playing in the sea.



It's Magic in the Skies tonight at Lands End and Ronnie would like to take YG over to see the fireworks.  We drop them off just before the first bangs and retreat a few miles with Jax (their dog) and ours safely tucked away in Vera's boot and the stereo pumping out music flat out to drown the bangs.

Back on site we sit up for a while having a chat before flopping into bed at about midnight.

Nos dda

Wednesday 16 August

The weather forecast was supposed to be proper mun all day today, but when I wake at 7.30am I'm happy to note the sunshine and blue skies.

Jax was sick in the night, over Ronnie and YG's bedding.  I'm awake to get up and dart over to the onsite Launderette to get it washed and dried before the sparrows have started farting.  With that done I load the 3 dogs into Vera and take them over to the cliff top for a run around.

I arrive and am infuriated by the outright thoughtlessness of some people.  Some git has abandoned a disposable BBQ.  People just don't deserve to be able to enjoy such a naturally beautiful place.


The culprits were there last night when we walked the dogs late on and I recognised their scruffy van as it's been buzzing about the area for the last week.  If I see them there later I'll be having a word.

We breakfast on bacon, sausage and egg rolls before piling into Vera and heading towards St Ives for a day out.  We arrive at St Ives and I suggest the park and ride at the rugby club.  Herself thinks otherwise and insists that we trawl the town car parks for a space.   I obliged, but 20 mins later we are handing over £5 to a yellow vest at the rugby club with me uttering a few "I told you so".

We jump on the bus and relax as it winds its way through the narrow streets to drop us off outside The Tate immediately start to regret the decision.  Tali and Gwawr and not at all happy about being on the charabanc and I have to fight with Tali all the way down while Ronnie has his own battle with Gwawr.

Just as we get off we think that the forecast is catching up with us.  The wind whips up, and with it it brings in some drizzle that sees everyone diving into cafes and restaurants for cover.  It comes to nothing though as we wind our way through the narrow streets, eventually calling in at The Western Hotel for drinks.

St Ives is busy, very busy.  Making progress is hard going, especially with Tali wanting to fill in every dog he passes.  At one point some serious shoulder barging is necessary to cut a path through the masses.

After a very successful passage through the main shopping street (we didn't buy anything) we burst back out onto the openness of Wharf Rd.



We bag a bench with a view of the harbour ans sit down to enjoy a bag of chips (with far too much salt and vinegar that is good for me) while the weather still holds.

The trip back up the hill was no more relaxing that the trip down, but if I'd attempted to walk it I'd not be here now tapping keys!  The luck with the weather gods run out just as we get back to the car.  I point Vera in the direction of the B3306 so that my passengers can appreciate the scenic view.  This appeared to be wasted effort on my part as firstly, they fell asleep, and secondly the rain closed in and by the time we're approaching St Just we can no longer see the sea!

By the time we get back to site the weather has closed in and we're getting a tidy drop of rain, but we're feeling lucky that it held off so long.  The rain didn't last though, but we're enveloped in Mizzle.

We get scrubbed up to dine out a la carte this evening.  A celebration dinner so to speak.  With a table booked in the restaurant at Lands End, I'm dropping Herself and YG off as close to the door as possible, otherwise hair will be ruined.

By the time I've parked Vera they've already taken a window seat with clear views of Longships and the Isles of Scilly in the distance, with the sun creating a superb natural backdrop as it sinks below the horizon the thick fog outside.

The meal was superb and the service top notch.

I leave them up chatting till late at night and am dribbling into my pillow long before they hit the hay.

Nos dda

Thursday 17 August

I'm awake by 7.30am,  and not only has the mist cleared, but we have sunshine.  My first job this morning is to sort out the toilet, as a senior moment in the middle of the night had me confused as to which way the level goes to open the blade!

They're all still in the land of zzzz when I return from walking the dogs, so there's no need to fess up to my night time farce.

We breakfast again on baps filled with pig and egg before jumping into Vera for a day out.

Reaching Penzance Herself pipes up that she saw a sign for a donkey sanctuary a few days back, but she cannot remember where.  Technology is great isn't it.  A few finger swipes on smart phones and we're on our way.

As soon as we pull up at the entrance we realise that this is a much smaller affair than the one at Sidmouth in Devon.




Never the less, Herself and YG had a whale of a time, with Herself frequently encouraging me to go get Vera as she was quite taken with a Shetland Pony and the iccle 3 week old baby donkey.  The place is a wonderful location to while away a few hours (even if it does honk a little) and there is no entrance charge.  They survive on donations and profits from the cafe and gift shop.

From there we head north across country, through Truro and onto Perranporth.  the further north we drove the better the weather got, and by the time we've abandoned Vera in Perranporth it's warm and sunny and the beach is rammed.

We take a terrace table overlooking the beach at the Seiners Arms, and bask in the sunshine overlooking the hoards frolicking on the beach.


It's funny, when we went in to order some drinks the place was dead.  The barman asks if the town is busy, as he's had no customers a afternoon.  Ronnie tells him he needs to take a look out of the window at the beach as it resembles Barry Island or Porthcawl on miners' stop fortnight.

Walking back along the main street, Ronnie and YG stop off in a few shops.  Ronnie treats himself to a new pair of flipflops and they buy a few keepsakes.

We're getting hungry so I suggest stopping off at the Brewers Fayre gaff just off the A30 at Hayle.  We pull in and I glance through the window clocking the dozens of empty tables.

"Great I thought, we'll be eating in no time."

We dutifully stand at the sign we're told to, and wait to be seated.

Front of house A young special needs escapee trots over and greets us (so far so good).

"How many are you?"

I look around behind me and see no one.

"Just the 4 of us."

"Have you booked?"

"No we haven't."

"Then I'm afraid we cannot accommodate you, we've got nothing free until 8.30pm."

It's just 5.45pm now.

I look around at the half empty restaurant before asking "Really?"

"Yes sorry, we're full."

I'm now looking behind supporting pillars for Mr Imbecile who served us a few days ago in Portreath.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

I think the look was enough, and she made herself look busy tidying some napkins or something.

With a few more miles under our belt we pull into the car park of The Lamb and Flag, on the A30 in Canon's Town.  No problems getting a table here, and we're seated and fed within the hour with some very good quality pub grub.

Now regular readers will recall that my flatulence problem  tend to get me into trouble.  Hersellf refuses to believe me that it's a side affect of my medication for diabetes and insists I'm just getting old.  Well anyway, with food out of the way I can feel a build up of wind and I know deep down that I am unable to hold onto it.  Now rather than let it out silently bit by bit (that never quite works out how you planned it) I make my excuses and head for the Gents.

I didn't really appreciate just how much pressure had built up, and every step across the (now full) dining area was accompanied by an involuntary fart.  Nothing for it now but to keep moving with my trumpet warning people to make way.

Once done, I exit the bog and all eyes are on me.  I had hoped that Herself and the others would have had the good grace to get up from the table and meet me outside, but no, there they are waiting for my return, with my wallet, keys and phone sitting on the table.

They know I've no alternative than to do the walk of shame back to the table.

I sit down and Herself is giving me a look.  Once the accusation is I'm straight back at her with my (what I think is a rock solid) defence.

"It's an old pub love, the floor boards are loose all over the place and creaking."

I sit back and let that sink in.  Herself leans over, then turns to me ......

"It's a flag stone floor!!"

Ronnie and YG are both back in work tomorrow so have to head back home.  It's been lovely having them down here for a fleeting visit and after waving them off at 9pm we take the opportunity to drop the deflate the bed and drop the sleeping annex while it's dry.

It's the 4th "Magic in the Skies" tonight since we've been here, and I think the wind direction has changed, because tonight it's been like camping in  down town Beirut and the dogs are not at all happy

Until next time.........