Beastie slept a lot yesterday, which meant that despite Ronnie and YG looking forward to a less disturbed night now that Gwen has gone home, Beastie had other ideas and was wide awake by 4am.
I was up late on my own last night, guzzling and catching up on blog posts, so didn't hear a thing until Ronnie woke me with a mug of tea at 10am, having already thrown some bacon and sausages onto the Weber.
Dishes cleared out of the way it was time for Beastie to have a bath in the caravan. This was a bit of a moment for us as 24 years ago, while on holiday in Cornwall we took a picture on Ronnie having a bath in our very first caravan, also a Bailey.
Beastie is very tired and won't give in, so I volunteer to go out for a walk with her. Stubborn girl she was, and we'd walked some considerable distance before Dats won.
I was getting worried though as I fast approaching the point of running out of clean songs I know to sing to her. A rendition of Yogi was next, and there's only so many clean verses of that I could think of!
The helicopters that do the shuttle over to The Scilly Isles and back appear to have changed their flight path the last couple of days. It's been particularly busy this afternoon, and at one point it was as if we were pitched up in Vietnam, at one point I considered firing up Alexa and asking her to play some Hendrix,Creedence and The Doors for full effect.
Late afternoon and we head off out for a look round somewhere and a bite to eat. Bagging a free parking spot on the quayside at Porthleven we have an amble round and a brows in some of the niche gift shops.
There was a buzz of activity as we took a table n the lower deck of The Ship Inn for food. A film crew were setting up and a sign informed us that the pub was closing early for said film crew. Ronnie offered to be Des and I wasted no time in throwing a few pints of Zoider down my neck before he changed his mind.
I had a crab nachos dish, which was actually superb to my surprise, I was later informed that Ronnie and YG had picked up the tab for tea which made it even better.
Friday 7 September
Disturbed night last night. Herself had consumed rather a lot of falling over juice and by the time her head hit the pillow she was out for the count and broadcasting her own concerto. This usually isn't a problem for me, once I take out my hearing aid I don't hear a thing at night. Unfortunately Herself is also thrashing out with her good leg and every 30 seconds or so the concerto is accompanied by a kick in my back. If I was facing the other way it would have been a kick in the gonads!
I endure this for what seemed like an eternity, all the time getting more and more frustrated, and I'm afraid to say that by about 1am I'm at the end of my tether and gently prodded Herself's bad knee. She woke with a fright while I gently dropped off into an unconscious state.
Another bright start to the day. I wake at 9am and Herself has already been out with the dogs and is playing in the awning with Beastie. I pick up a bag of dirty clothes, and armed with a fistful of pound coins head over to the launderette.
People are knackered. Ronnie and YG are enjoying a bit of extra shut eye as apparently Beastie has been awake on and off since 2am. We didn't get breakfast on the go until gone 11am and by the time everyone has sorted themselves out it's gone 2.30pm as we're loaded up in Vera and heading up country.
Despite the lateness of the season Perranporth is still quite busy, but parking was relatively easy. Herself and I take a table with a view of the beach at The Willow and hold onto the dogs while Ronnie, YG and Beastie tour the gift shops on the main drag.
Next we have an errand to run. Roids collects Zippo lighters and was taken with one in Newquay, Why he didn't buy it at the time is beyond me, and we make tracks over that way. Time is getting on though (well it would do if you don't get out until some time after lunchtime)` and I'm not that confident of getting there before the shop shuts up for the day.
Any hopes I did have evaporate as we hit a wall of traffic approaching Goonhavren. Nothing seems to be moving anywhere - at any sort of rate anyway - and once we eventually negotiate the first mini roundabout the reason for the delay becomes apparent.
Sitting in front of us is a set of temporary traffic lights, one of a set of three, but these are not being controlled by a timer or sensor or anything. Stood at the side of the road, and taking flak off frustrated motorists is a young lad dressed from head to toe in orange Hi Viz gear that Cornwall Council have seen fit to let loose with a remote control at rush hour on a busy junction.
We roll into Newquay at gone 5pm and I jump out and head straight for the shop. Shutters down - bollox. In hope I walk further into town towards the tobacconist, and as luck would have it, he's had new stock in since last week and all shiny in the display case I spot a Kernow Zippo. Phew!!
Back at the car it would appear that Beastie has taken over driving duties and is anxious for the off.
We rock up to Bowgies at West Pentire and take a table in the empty beer garden with a view over the beach. Not much to say except we ordered food, it come pretty quickly, was very nice, we ate it and made tracks for home.
Dark again by the time we get back and we're all on our chin straps. We stay up long enough for Ronnie to sort out all Beastie's kit before turning in quite early.
Saturday 8 September
We had a drop of rain overnight, but the weather is well on it's way to clearing as I take the dogs over to Sennen and watch a lone fishing boat bobbing around some distance off shore through my perverts glasses.
By the time I'm sat in the awning with Beastie in her "Circle of Neglect" the sun is shining lovely and is very warm through the perspex windows.
Today has a distinct end of holiday feel, though we are not heading home for another 3 nights, but Beastie goes home tonight after her late feed. Herself and I make the most of the morning playing with her while Ronnie and YG start semi packing and pop over to St Burynan to get some fresh Jersey Cow milk to take home with them.
Breakfast of poached eggs is fitted in somewhere and we are in Vera by noon making tracks once more towards Porthleven.
Ronnie and YG want to do some gift shopping and Herself had also seen some tat that she wanted to buy for the olds when we were here a few days back. Why she didn't pick it up then is beyond me.
Having no interest in walking from shop to shop and standing outside I take the dogs off and sit down on a bench overlooking the harbour, watching the world go by munching on pasties.
Entertainment is initially provided by a bloke who throws a floating toy into the drink for his dog to retrieve. The dog refused, and one can only assume that the toy had cost a few quid coz this bloke then wades in chest deep while fully clothed to rescue the toy from the drink. He didn't throw it a second time.
They are done with shopping and I suggest a bite to eat. Pasties are purchases from Philps, where my West Wales negotiating skills are given a good work out and I pay next to nothing for 2 standard and 2 large steak pasties.
The pasties are eaten while we watch the local kids jumping off the quayside into the depth of water the high tide affords, before adjourning to the Harbour Inn for a pint to try and sooth my burnt mouth. Why are Cornish Pasties so bloody hot?
To my disapproval, Jax gets a ride on the pushchair back to Vera while Ronnie carries Beastie (he's one spoilt mutt he is.)
Ronnie and YG have failed to find something for the olds so we point Vera's nose towards Marazion. It's getting close to closing time and if we parked up and walked into the village the shops would be slamming doors in faces, so I drop them in the centre and park up under the shadows of the Mount to throw a ball for the dogs.
The mission was a success and we are now almost fully booked in the gifts department. Back on site I help Ronnie load up his Beamer before we enjoy a fish supper. Beastie has her last feed and gets strapped into her seat. Many hugs are given and I've grit in my eye as we wave to Ronnie's tail lights as they head towards the A30.
Herself and I retreat to the van and it immediately strikes us how empty it is. We're lost for a while just sitting and looking at each other. I go to retrieve a pair of PJs from the wardrobe and just sit staring at the two empty shelves that were full of Beastie's clothes just a few hours earlier.
We've both thoroughly enjoyed having her down here for a week, and have savoured the opportunity to spend so much quality time with her (and her parents of course). But we retire to bed just a little bit deflated this evening.
Sunday 9 September
First morning post Beastie and the caravan feels very empty and very quiet. We are missing them.
By the time we spring open the blinds our neighbours to the left have departed and the ones to the right are flat out breaking camp.
After the dogs have been walked I pop over the site shop to buy some fresh bread and bacon. As soon as we're done I start the laborious task of breaking camp. The weather down here can be quite unpredictable and I'm keen to take the opportunity of packing away a bone dry awning. It takes me some time, mainly due to Herself's knackered knee and inability to lend a helping hand.
It's staggering how much kit you set up for a two week break, but by 3pm the Vango is down and stored away and our temp camp for the last few nights set up.
Exhausted from the effort I down a Coke Zero before collapsing in the recliner for a well earned snooze fest. Out cold I was when Herself nudges me. I open my eyes to see what can only be described as a fleet of Dutch motor homes rumbling down the track into the next field. If I'd paid for one of the hedge side pitches on this field with a direct sea view I'd have been pissed off. They all pitched side on presenting a wall of white and all immediately raised their roof mounted 2ft satellite dishes.
We've nothing in the fridge, except for remnants of booze and Herself is hungry. It being a Sunday, and learning from last year's experience we know that the only place that will be serving at 4.30pm will be Lands End.
Rolling into the place at 4.45pm Dick Turpin has clocked off for the day. I trot over to the pay and display, and at this time of day they still want £6 to park up, but it reduces to £2 after 5pm. I return to Vera and dig out our ticket from last time and that gets put in the windscreen and I ignore Herself's protestations as I walk off towards the hotel.
We take one of the many vacant tables outside in the sun, but despite it being glorious Herself is feeling a little cold - probably due to her lying in the sun all day pretending to have a bad knee while I slaved away under the midday sun breaking camp.
I take the dogs back to the car and park it in a shaded spot while Herself retires inside and places the order. Herself orderes a burger and I opted for Moules Frites. When it arrived there was a distinct absence of frites. On quizzing (who I assumed to be a work experience kid) the waiter I'm told they would be out soon as the portion that was cooked was too small.
After waiting 5 mins I see a bowl of frites exiting the kitchen, but the work experience kids seems to have forgotten where we are sat as he wanders round aimlessly trying to find us. I watch helplessly as he hands over the said bowl to a (hopefully more experienced) colleague. He then wanders off giving the frites a guided tour of the restaurant until Master Work Experience spots us and chases his mate.
The frites are delivered to the table and I immediately clock that the bowl is only half full. I hate to think what the earlier smaller portion would have looked like! Herself looks at me, I look at her and she's suddenly on edge as she knows what's coming. She doesn't like complaining and will always talk me out of it. I pick up one chip and it's stone cold. before Master Work Experience can escape I've got hold of his towel with my free hand. Herself looks down.
"Chips are cold son."
"Are they?"
"Well yes, do you want to try one?"
He picks up the bowl and goes to speak to one of the cooks. The cook gobs off at him, takes the bowl and returns with another one. On approaching the table I notice that this bowl is somewhat fuller than the last one. He puts it down and goes to turn.
"Not so fast son."
I dip down deep into the bowl and fish one out to try before dismissing him. I wouldn't want them to think they could get away with just sprinkling a few hot ones on top, would I?
The dish was superb, and I enjoyed my meal a lot more than Herself. How much of that is down to Herself's aversion to fried food of late, or my behaviour I don't know.
We exercise the dogs in Sennen on the way back to site to sit down and relax for the remainder of the evening, where I get lost in a few very large G&Ts.
Monday 10 September
Blue skies again this morning for our last day down here. We're booked onto the pitch until tomorrow, but as is the norm for us, we'll leave some time this evening to give us a full day at home tomorrow to sort ourselves out before returning to the grind.
With dogs taken over to Sennen I go about knocking up a breakfast from what we have in the cupboards. Just eggs and some mouldy bread greets me as I open the doors, so after picking off the spores I throw together some eggy bread.
Our day out today will revolve around a few errands. First stop is the new St Buryan farm shop in the hope of picking up some cream teas. They didn't have any, nor did they have much of anything else come to think of it.
Next is The Moon and Sixpence for milk to take home before making tracks for Philps in Hayle for pasties and cream teas - also to take home. Vera's tank gets brimmed at the Shell service station just outside town and I think we're done.
Herself has other ideas though and drops the good news that she needs to purchase another gift. Time is getting on now, so I hatch a plan to fit in some lunch into the process.
Vera is abandoned in Penzanze where we clip the dogs on and walk around the harbour to near the Scillonian III docking point. Herself exits the gift shop and to my relief we are now fully stocked in the gift department and no additional requests for gift shopping will be entertained.
For the past two weeks when we've been driving past this spot herself has been banging on about a boat that is not floating. I've been driving and the road here is extremely busy so have not had the chance to tale a look. She's right though, and I don't rate this one's chances of floating on the next high tide.
Time to get back on track, and lunch. Herself fancies stopping at The Boatshed Restaurant instead of ploughing on giving her knackered knee more gip, and takes seat at an outside table. I glance at the menu and am rather taken with a mackerel dish they have on it. I'm not taken with Herself's choice of table though. Herself gets up with a few grunts and announces that we'll just go to the Dolphin Tavern instead.
That's my mackerel lunch out of the window then, but I say nothing and follow on dutifully. A table is taken outside and I put a menu down on the table.
"I'm not hungry." she says, "We'll have something later" she also says. I'm looking at my watch and the cogs are turning as I know that everywhere will stop serving at 3pm and not start up again until 6pm, at which time I was hoping to have the van hitched up to Vera and her wheels turning.
I fail to talk Herself round, and it transpired that any chance of lunch had also gone out of the window with my mackerel. Google will tell you that this pub is one of the most haunted in England, so I go inside and do battle with the ghosts to get a few pints of Korev.
The landlord moves up a gear as he's pouring them and straight into sales mode.
"Don't fancy eating then? We have mackerel on the specials board."
I sneer at him "Ha Ha, you're funny you are!" before returning to our table and slamming the pints down. I'm frustrated as I know that in about 1 1/2 hours time Herself will be ready for food, but by which time places would have stopped serving.
Walking back to Vera I look to my right and see that the incoming tide is indeed enveloping the stricken yatch, and by high tide only the top of it's mast will be visible.
Back on site I go about breaking camp fully. Time had run away with us, and any thoughts I'd had about having a nap went out of the window with my mackerel lunch. I'm just about done at 4.30pm and Herself announces that she is now ready to eat.
"All the best with finding somewhere" I quip as she gets on the phone to firstly The Kings Arms, then the First and Last, and even a last resort of 190 Degrees West. None of whom intend to warm their fryers until 6pm.
I walk over to the site shop to get a loaf of bread to go with the curled up ham and Hoolahoops we have in the van.
One last dog walk is taken on Trevedra's dog walk, and both Tali and Gwawr know what's coming so take the opportunity of a free run before being banged up in Vera's boot.
By 5.30pm we are hitched up and ready to roll.
We hit traffic at Crowlas, but apart for that Vera's wheels turned continuously as she got into her stride. I even gave her a pat on the dash as she ate up the first big climb of the tow at Indian Queens, its a savage hill when towing that one is. Does anyone do that, or is it just me?
Dartmoor is skirted and we drop down towards Exeter and the M5, where the traffic is somewhat heavier. A brief stop is had at Taunton Dean to give the dogs a stretch, a pee and to throw some crap down our necks provided by the Golden Arches, before pressing on.
Frustratingly the M4 is shut between J45 and J46 and I'm resigned to threading our bulk through the narrow roads of outer Monkey Town. Luckily the traffic was very light and after nearly 6 hours behind the wheel we are pulling up outside Home-is-where-you-drag-it Towers.
Been a great 18 nights away. Herself and I managed to squeeze in some quiet time around family time. Beastie came to stay and we grasped the opportunity to get to know her really well.
We thoroughly enjoyed our time in West Cornwall, it's an area that we never tire of and always leave feeling energised. Trevedra is an ideal base and one we keep returning to, I can't quite put my finger on it, but there is something that draws you back time and time again. We've been back there every year since our first visit in 2013, missing just one due to tragic personal circumstances, but we are mere novices and always seem to be pitched up next to someone who's been going there for 30 plus years. It's that kind of place, and a sign outside the facility block proclaims "You are all part of the Trevedra family." Maybe that's it, they make you feel like you belong.
Until our next trip .............
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