Monday, 21 August 2017

Cornwall 2017 - Part 5

Friday 18 August

It rained quite a bit over night apparently, but it's dry when I rise at 7am.  I've  bag of soiled pants that need washing and the best time to catch an empty machine here in site is early doors, so I nip over to St Just to but some capsules in the Co-op and hog the machines and dryers until about 9am.

I'm getting to be a dab hand at this washing clothes caper.

It's 33 years today that my Dad passed away, very young.  He's missed such a lot in that time, both good times and bad, but one thing is for sure, both the good and bad times would have been so much better is he'd been around to offer a guiding hand or share in rejoicing.

I take myself over to Sennen, sitting on Vera's tailgate for a while, just reflecting, and when composed ring my Mam for a chat and check she's ok.

Back at the van we breakfast on poached eggs as the heavens opened, and boy did they open!  It didn't last though and thoughts turn to try and plan something to fill up the day.  It would have been so easy to sit and do nothing, but with the end of the holiday fast approaching that would have seemed to be such a waste.

I'd Googled somewhere I'd like to call in on today, but let let Herself in on my plan yet, instead asking her for ideas.  She can't think of any so I suggest The Cornish Steam and Country Fair that is being held over this weekend at a show ground between Redruth and Truro.

She does not say no, so I take it as a yes.  She's keen to go deep down, I can tell.  Usually Herself is spot on with getting stuff ready to go out, but today she just sorts herself out and announces that she's ready before staring at her smart phone.

I gather together the stuff we need and we jump into Vera.  Any enthusiasm Herself might have mustered soon evaporated as we parked up Vera and squelched our way toward the entrance.

"My sandals are going to be ruined, why didn't you put in my walking boots."

Onward we continue through the car park, with feet getting muddier and wetter with each step.

"Do we have to pay to get in here?"

"Yes love, £10."


I didn't answer, just soaking up the disapproving looks.  I throw a purple one in the direction of a yellow vest and things initially improve as our feet hit some tarmac.  We see some benches surrounding an arena, where some miniature engines are about to enter.

Settling down on some planks balanced on milk crates I get out my GoPro knock off ready to video some billowing steam.  I'm instantly deflated as the git with the mic cheerfully announces that these are powered by lawn mower engines!

I had been too tight /frightened to buy a programme so we didn't know there was other stuff going on.  I'm vowing to go back and punch the yellow vest straight in the throat until my purple one is refunded.

I'm dragged in the opposite direction and as we crest a small hill we can see the expanse of the show.  I'm mellowing a little and stop to admire a fairground organ on display.  The carvings are very detailed, and while I'm distracted I failed to see the little man go round the back to start it up.

Music started blasting out and Gwawr goes mental.  She's straining on her leash and doing her very best to yank my arm out of it's socket.  It's very fortunate that I do not have wind issues today!

We pause briefly to watch some "Kick Start" wannabes doing their stuff on trial bikes before the heavens opened and we follow the masses into the craft tent.  I'd be willing to bet that the inside of the craft tent has never seen so many people, and stall holders start to rub their hands with glee.  trouble is that the deluge stopped just as quick as it started and with it the tent emptied just as quick as it filled up.

I spot a sign for the larger engines.  This is what I came to see.  I ask Herself if we shall go there next and get a "Whatever." for a reply.  Deep down I just know she's enjoying herself.

Gwawr is starting to settle again and we are once more walking on squelch free tarmac.  Things are looking up.  We enter the large expanse and I've never seen so many steam engines in one place.  I love the smell they emit.

We''re passing one, and the young crew that are operating the beast think it's a good idea to give the whistle a good old blast while we (and the dogs) are in close range.

Gwawr goes nuts and almost pulls me over.  Tali goes nuts and does Herself a mischief.  I compose myself and look up at the (now in hysterics) crew.

Oh, how we laughed!

I manage to drag Herself around with me for a few more minutes, before she suggests that she go stand by the gate with the dogs while I take some pictures.

This is Herself speak for "I've had enough, lets go."

We avoid the vintage fairground, as even I know that would just be too much and we take a look at some old Yank Hot Rods and some trucks on the way back up the hill.

Time now to look around the trade stalls, and we are back on the moist stuff.  Herself reminds me once more that her sandals are ruined as we wade through the quagmire.

I can tell that shes enjoying herself deep down, she must be, as it's a cracking show.

We're briefly back on solid ground until Herself hears an announcement for sheepdog trials.  Back down the field we squelch and take a ringside seat on the planks and milk crates.

Tali watches on intently, while Gwawr (who actually comes from working stock) turns her back on the display in disgust.  We're peckish, so I pop off to grab some burgers leaving Herself shivering as the wind howls relentlessly.

I'll not bore you with the details of my altercation at the burger van, but if I were to let you in on the fact that he wanted to charge me £17 for 3 burgers (one for the dogs) and two cokes (the dogs do not like coke) you can imagine the rest.

I return to ringside and Herself is knobbled.  She's now got past the moaning stage and is positively miserable.  I know when I've pushed my luck as far as I can and suggest we leave.stopping briefly to listen to another organ on the way out.  Herself didn't wait, just grabbing Gwawr's lead off me and leaving me to it.

The yellow vest guarding the exit seemed somewhat put out when we didn't think having our hand stamped to return was necessary, and I consider it a successful day out as Herself has not yet resorted to communicating with me via post it notes, despite me putting her through 3 hours of torture.

Once back on the Lands End peninsular it looks like they've not had any more rain today, and Vera's outside temp gauge is reading a few notched higher than it was up country.

We dine on BBQ lamb steaks  before settling down for what looks to be a disturbed night.  The wind has picked up considerably and the awning is taking a battering.  The van is rocking on its steadies as well, so even if I cannot hear the mayhem outside I'll still feel it.

Nos dda

Saturday 19 August

The wind blew itself out last night and I release the blinds to see a beautiful sunny morning and waste no time in taking the dogs over to Sennen to wipe the sleep from my eyes.  I swear that I'll never tire of this view.

Back on site we breakfast on bacon rolls before getting busy.  You see, @DerekTheWeather and his work of fiction are giving it to be quite unsettled for the next few days.  Mind you, he's not really been right since we've been down here, so why I'm taking any notice of him is beyond me.

Anyway, there's noting worse than taking down a soaking wet awning at the end of a trip, and the associated worry or drying it out at home, so we start to pack away our kit, and it's surprising how much more we have out for our 2 weeks as opposed to shorter breaks.

The Vango gets dropped and rolled up dry and without incident, and I'm really starting to see the benefits of an inflatable awning now that we've solved our faulty valve related issues.  With that stowed on Vera's back seat I start crawling around taking the pegs out that were holding the carpet down, and it's while I'm doing this that it happened.

Herself has a neat pile of pegs about 4m from me, and instead of walking over to drop the pegs onto it, I lazily go to lob them over.  Now, I've usually got quite a good aim, but as I throw them the hook end of one got caught on my thumb, and while the others landed within 12" of the pile a stray peg took a completely different trajectory.

You know how sometimes real time slows down in your head?  Well that's me now watching the stray peg somersaulting its way through the air in the general direction of Herself's face.  I'm even playing the cartoon sound in my head as the metal spike closes in on its target like an Exocet missile.

 Herself's radar is good though, and like the RAF's finest, she completes a last gasp avoidance manoeuvre ........ nearly.  What could have been a devastating blow was limited to collateral damage as the spike brushed her cheek.

I get a look to end all looks, and I say nothing, as saying anything at this point in time would only make things worse.

"I'll remember." she utters in a calm and measured tone.  Which worries me more than if she'd gone for an all out assault.

Our canopy gets erected in no time, it gives some protection to the door and can be taken down in seconds, being so small it is also easy to dry out if collapsed wet.

We're all done by 11.30am, so time to get out the recliners to embark on some personal contemplation time studying the backs of our eyelids while the sun warm sour chops.

There we stayed for the afternoon, not moving other than to get another cold drink from the coolbox, until 5pm when it's time to scrub up for dinner.  With a few day's growth scraped off my chops I'm presentable once more and we point Vera in the direction of st Just and the Kings Arms.  We couldn't even park lat alone secure a table, so continued to Bottelack and The Queens Arms.  We park easy enough and things are looking good with the dozen or so empty tables.  The young girl is most apologetic when telling us they are booked up.

Back in Vera, Herself suggests a bag of chips from 190 Degrees West.  I tell her that I've had a wash special, and I didn't have a wash just for a bag of chips!  We continue onto Lands End.  The Hotel is busy, but we find a able in the bar area and eat off the bar menu while looking out over Longships.

I started the day at Sennen, and also finished it, as we parked up and threw a ball for the dogs to chase.  It's a bit breezy and a little chilly now the heat has gone out of the sun as we sit on Vera's tailgate looking up towards Cape Cornwall, and a Del Boy wannabe hanging onto a fitted bed sheet for his life.

Nos dda

Sunday 20 August

Yesterday evening seems a distant memory as we wake this morning.  Releasing the tension on the blinds reveals a site shrouded in mizzle.  Our last day here today, so apart from having a "whatever is in the cupboards and fridge" breakfast, we did very little until gone midday, content to vedge out and let Alexa do the entertaining.

Actually the bacon and cockles went down very well with a side of eggs bread and cheese on toast!

New neighbours arrived yesterday, and to be honest f we were staying much longer we would be having words.  You see, it would appear that Nanna and Grandpa were only here for a few nights to set up the van for their offspring.  Nothing wrong with that, but if you're loaning your caravan to non caravanning people then ensure they know the protocol.

Mam and Dad appear to be OK, but their (16 year old) only child little princess is something else.  Yesterday she continually walked between Vera and our awning while cutting across our pitch.  I'm a sad old git and I've done the maths on it (see that kids? Maths with an S at the end.  None of your Yank bullshit here!) and Pythagoras tells me that she's saving herself a whole 4.3m by doing so.

I resorted to parking Vera at and angle to avoid me pulling her through the mud  by her hair ... well that and her dad looking to be considerably harder than me.

Well, anyways, over breakfast Herself invites me to look out of the window.  Directly opposite is is the freshwater point, and Little Princess is using it to wash her dog!  Shampoo and everything.

With no signs of the weather letting up (the first time in 2 weeks that @DerekTheWeather has been reasonably accurate with his work of fiction) we decide that we will leave this evening instead of tomorrow morning.

We've not done any gift shopping yet, so head over to Lands End picking up any old tat in desperation, before stopping in Penzance to buy Ronnie and Roids some illegal sharp metal things before finally calling on Philps in Hayle for a box of pasties to take home.

Our brief visit to Lands End was not incident free however.  The car parks were rammed and parking spots were at a premium, especially one that wasn't half way back to Sennen.  I've developed a problem with my Achilles over the last few days, and walking is painful, so a spot close in would have been appreciated.

We spotted a family returning to their car and waited patiently (with indicators on claiming the spot) wile they got themselves sorted.  Just as they pulled away and I'm edging my way in a shitty old Ford Focus screams in from the other direction beating me to the spot.  As they're doing so, Grandson who's sat in the front seat, points at us and laughs.  I'm fuming, pull up along side  and start staring.  All occupants stare intently down at their smart phones, looking up only when Herself's begging for me to leave it succeeds and we move on.

As luck would have it, just as we're walking under the entrance arch, who should be standing there with Nanna?  Thirteen year old point and laugh no less.  Bless, he clocks me and holds his Nanna's hand.  I then accidentally barge him as we walk past, with a cursory sorry mumbled under my breath.  Five paces on I turn around and he's watching me.  Childish I Know, but I pointed at him and laughed.

With the site still enveloped in mizzle we pack away what's left and hitch up, pulling out of the site just before 5pm.

Despite the rain cruising on the quiet roads is effortless, Vera gets into her stride pretty quickly, and rather fittingly, with Iron Maiden's Run to the Hills blasting out we start to climb over Bodmin Moor.  One brief stop at Taunton Deane services for a pee and to throw a McDs down our necks.

5 3/4 hours it took us, door to door, including the stop.  I consider that pretty good going for 275 miles towing a 1 1/2 tonne tin box in poor conditions.  Vera returned a respectable 32.5 mpg over the tow, again I consider that pretty good too.

Home now after another excellent holiday at Trevedra, and like I said in part #1........ Noddfa.

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.........

Monday, 14 August 2017

Cornwall 2017 - Part 3

Saturday 12 August

By the time I lift my head off my dribble soaked pillow at 10.30am (what a kip!!!) yesterday evening's foul weather has cleared and the site has come alive again.

John the owner comes to see me and I pop up to the site office to sort out some admin with Wendy.  This means we can stop here an extra two nights instead of moving to another site up country to complete our holiday.

Wait for it ........ I skip breakfast this morning, and once we've freshened up the dogs jump into Vera and we take them off over to Sennen to chase a ball before heading through the lanes to the metropolis that is St Buryan.

I've driven through St Burynan many times and never seen a soul, but this morning I've seen 3 people walking in the street.  We spotted a sign yesterday advertising their Farmer's market here today and it immediately become apparent that it's not a patch on the one in Sennen.  We are the only customers for a start and all the stall holders (5 of them) watch us intently as we wander from stall to stall.

I take a look at the butcher's wares.  His Sirloin looks nice and well aged, but there is no way I would be paying £8.50 for a single steak that I'd be cooking myself!

Herself wanders over to another stall and fancies the bacon and egg tart that the woman is selling.  I think £2 a slice is a bit OTT, but Herself otherwise and buys two (I'm sure out of embarrassment more than anything else)

Next stop is Penrose Touring in Redruth.  Our windbreak didn't survive the foul weather last night and we're on the lookout for a decent replacement.  The spotty assistant is in sell mode and has Herself in the palm of his hand as he waxes lyrical about the £120 model he's trying to sell us.  Luckily I have custody of my wallet, and I start to ask some awkward questions.  He can't quite see how the one made of gold he's trying to sell us has the same weakness as the one back at the van.

Falmouth is next.  We park up at the maritime end of the town and head first to Trago Mills.  They didn't  have windbreaks so we carried on. Herself fancies lunch out and we head to a nice pub we know of with outside tables overlooking some boats.

We round the corner and my heart sinks.  There is construction work going on and the tables, while still set up, have a fantastic view of some steel containers.  We trudge on  failing to find a pub serving food with outside tables.  Somewhat disheartened we turn back, resigned to being ripped off by Rick Stein at one of his pretentious gaffs.

As luck would have it, just as we are passing Harbour View some people are vacating their table.  Pushing women and children  out of the way we win the race and settle down to lunch at a table with a view up the River Fal.

I knew that I had done it straight away, and was gutted but said nothing for a while, just furtively glancing down to try and assess the damage.  I''d hooked my sunnies into a loop on my daysack and when I'd put it down it scraped along a pebble dash wall.  Eventually my shiftyness got the better of Herself and I was forced to fess up.  Closer inspection revealed that they were a write off and I'm subjected to all forms of piss taking from Herself until something else occupies her mind.

While waiting we witnessed some simply unbelievable behaviour by a dog owner.  Now it's hard enough to find places that are dog friendly, so it really grinds my bones when I see people put that at risk through stupidity.

We were sat outside, but just the other side of some bi-fold glass doors was a family with an old greyhound.  They had a travel bed for him to lie down on, and to be fair he was good as gold.  However when it was time to leave, they all got up and the bloke picks up the dog bed and gives it a good old shake, spraying sand and dog hair everywhere (inside the restaurant mind).  As if that wasn't bad enough, he then lays the bed on the table so that he can roll it up to stash away!

Our Crayfish butties were superb.

Back on site the sun is high in the sky.  You know it's trendy for model types to take a pic of their long slender and sun tanned legs stretched out on a lounger?  Well here's my effort of my short and dumpy legs with gnarled toes for you to appreciate.

It's simply glorious just sat there swigging on a cold one as the sun warms my chops.  Just to break the monotony a nutter flies over the site hanging from a bed sheet.

The BBQ gets lit to cremate some kebabs for tea, and the site looks like there's a new Pope being elected on nearly every pitch as white smoke fills the air.

With dishes squared away we jump into Vera and sit on her tailgate in Sennen watching the sun drop into the Atlantic some distance west of The Scilly Isles.

I honestly wouldn't holiday anywhere else.

Nos dda

Sunday 13 August

We wake this morning to the sound of Bongo drums being hammered into submission by someone with less rhythm than a Catholic father of 15.

i take the dogs over to Sennen and throw a ball for them to loosen up a bit, and then get out my rip off Go Pro to take a 360 shot to capture the beauty of this place.  Apologies for the dog shaking like a sh****g dog at the end!

Herself needs perfume and I need a pair of replacement sunnies, so boots next to Hayle RFC is our first port of call.  We had a bit of an argument in the sunglasses aisle, which involved liberal use of the word cheapskate, but I won the battle and scored myself a pair for the grand sum of £7.50.

We've seen posters dotted about the place promising an air show, but they've been at busy junctions and are only A4 in size, so capturing the detail has been difficult.  I spot one and slow down enough for Herself to catch ..... Air Show ...... Hell's Mouth ........ 12th & 13th August ........ 10.30am to 5.30pm.

That'll do us and we follow the arrows from Hayle.  Hell's Mouth seemed to be a strange place for an air show, but I figured they would be taking off at Perranporth and doing a flyby at Hell's Mouth.  We stop near the cliffs first the give the dogs a walk and take in some sea air .. like we've not had much of it this week.

As we pull into the allocated car parking area we get that sinking feeling as we read one of the posters close up.  in very small print is the word "model".  We've driven all this way to park up in a mowed field full of anoraks!

Herself made her intentions quite clear by picking up her phone and staring intently at it.  She's not getting out then!

I site on Vera's tailgate long enough to see one do a buzzy fly by before banging the dogs up once more to make tracks further north.  We make it as far as Portreatreath where we swerve in to the car park of The Portreath Arms Hotel.

After taking  a table in their rather nice beer garden I was initially informed by the brick serving that we couldn't have a sandwich as we had not booked.  I found it rather hard to believe but was on my best behaviour.  I don't know exactly what the manageress said to him when he was pouring our pints of cider, but one advantage of being nearly deaf is that I'm rather good at lip reading, and the words stupid and imbecile were directed at him.

For all that, our lunch was lovely, even if they did serve the side of chips in a flower pot!

We stopped off in Hayle for provisions on the way back and the place is rammed.  I'm not in the best of moods by the time we're done, but a van tickled me on the way back to Vera, and lightened my mood.

I drop Herself and the dogs off at the caravan and head off out to catch us some supper.  On pulling up at Lamorna Cove I note that more of the sea wall has dropped away over the winter.  There'll be nothing left by next year

The mission was a success, and while I didn't catch any fish so to speak, I didn't lose any tackle either!

Back on site Herself has cleaned the caravan and got into Nigella mode.  We have a late supper of Thai Fishcakes and a stir fry.

Nos dda

Monday 14 August

Up early this morning and outside pottering about before the bongo drums started.  We've a busy day ahead of us as it's breaking camp day.  @DerekTheWeather is predicting light rain showers, so not really a good day for it.

The awning is soaking after an overnight drenching, and as a result is bloody heavy to handle, but by 9am the awning and its contents are stuffed into Vera.  We sit and wait.

By 10.30am we get the nod from the site owners that our new pitch is ready.  You see, a few days ago I went and had a word.  the uncontrolled hippy kids were starting to get me down.  Last night one of their stray balls actually came into our awning last night, hitting stuff off the table.

Some juggling by the site enabled us to move onto a fully serviced pitch on the more civilised CC members' field today, with the added bonus that we can stay extra nights instead of having to move up country.

We're in the middle of setting up and the biblical rains started.  We got soaked through while setting up, but luckily I'd had the foresight to connect all the services first and turn on the water heater so hot showers could be had.

It rained and it rained and it rained.  The ground is sodden and people are in hiding, the only respite from the monotony coming when a little dinky toy pulls onto the adjacent pitch.

We've nothing in for tea, so a trip into Penzance is needed.  Just when we thought the rain couldn't come down any heavier .... it did.  Good job it was only light showers that was forecast, I'd hate to think how we would have coped if there was heavy rain.

Our evening meal is winter comfort food ..... mid August mind!!

We're just clearing away the dishes and the clouds part.  This is why we love it so far west in Cornwall, even after a horrendous day the place still manages to send you to bed with a smile on your chops.

Until next time