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Monday 27 August 2018

Cornwall 2018 - Part 1

Our main summer break seems to have been a long time coming.  It's nearly two full  months since we set off for Somerset on our last little jaunt, and in that time we've seen the longest heatwave this country has experienced since 1976 come and regrettably go.  The last 2 weeks in the build up to this break has seen much gloom, cloud and wet stuff falling from the sky.

Thursday 23 August

A half day in work sees me out through the gates by noon and home to finish loading up the van ready for the off as soon as Herself finishes work.  4.45pm and we're all set for the off.



We don't live far from J48 of the M4, but for the last 4 weeks our side of the village had been cut off by a road closure while culvert renewal works have been taking place.  The work was due to be completed last week but a 2 week extension is necessary (probably due to the length of time PC has kept the workmen talking outside his garage).

I'm all for chancing it with the buses through the unofficial diversion, but Herself is having none of it, so a rather tricky 3 point turn is required in the estate opposite before we follow the official diversion that adds about 4 miles before we hit the M4.

I know we didn't leave at an ideal time, but the traffic around Port Toilet was horrendous, and it's gone 6pm by the time we're feeling the crosswinds slam into the side of the van on the Kenfig viaduct.  We're loaded up for this trip, and Vera's computer is telling me she has a thirst like a youth rugby team on their Easter tour.  Still, if I worried about fuel consumption figures I wouldn't tow.

Is it me of does anyone else feel the van tows better when heavily loaded?

A break is taken at Taunton Dean where we park up next to the HGVs in the stench of stale piss, and fill up on junk food supplied by the golden arches.


It's getting dark as we start climbing on the A30 around Dartmoor, and by the time we're crossing Bodmin Moor it's pitch black.  It was then that a phenomenon happened.  We've been towing to Cornwall for 24 years now, and in all that time we've never crossed Bodmin Moor at night when it hasn't been enveloped in fog and it''s been raining.

That changed tonight, and we're a bit confused as we fly past Jamacia Inn.

A fuel and pee stop is brief at Cornwall services before we're once again munching up the miles in the darkness.  We had a bit of a debate as to where we were going to drop the legs for the night.  Herself is a creature of habit and wants to stop at our usual layby near Perranporth.  I want to press on as we never really get any sleep there as it's too busy.

Herself pouts for a bit.

By 11.30 pm we've cleared Penzance and are on the Land End Peninsular. The legs are dropped in a quiet layby close to the airport, and we play at being proper Gyppos - the only thing missing is a fridge to burn!



Friday 24 August

We had quite a good night's sleep, only being disturbed by a campervan arriving at 3.30am.  Herself has yet to concede that my choice of layby was far superior to hers.  So much so that Herself was still in the Land of Nod at 10.30am when I can wait no longer and light a flame under both the kettle and the frying pan to get breakfast on the go.

We wait until 11.30am before making the short journey to site and have paid our dues and are setting up by noon.

We've not put our big Vango awning up since this time last year and I'd forgotten just how heavy it is, though pulling it through the rail was somewhat easier using my new improvised awning puller.  We're on the opposite side to where we were pitched last year and have a pitch backing onto open land looking over towards Lands End airport.

Setting up took a little while (it's amazing how much more kit you take when putting down roots for two weeks) but just before the heavens opened I'm able to announce to Facebookville that we is arrived.



The dogs have been very patient since last night, so  we head over to Sennen and our favourite spot up on the headland where we throw a ball for them to give their legs a stretch before making tracks to Penzance to get in some provisions.

Back on site a quiet night is called for.  Herself gets into Nigella mode and produces a simply superb prawn and pasta dish that is washed down with a few flagons of Lidl's finest ninja juice.


The evening is spent getting wasted while chatting with Alexa sorting out the background music.

Saturday 25 August

I open my eyes and am greeted with a sight that every caravanner prays for, a bright blue sky light.


No time is wasted, and I take the dogs for an early morning stretch.  It's only 8am, and I'm still wiping the sleep from my eyes to take in the view up to Cape Cornwall while these nutters are already jumping off cliffs clinging onto bed sheets.



Back at the van I'm expecting Herself to still be enjoying a lie in, but no, as I approach the van I notice something and get all excited.  There is a distinct smell of frying bacon wafting out through the awning flaps, and I'm presented with bacon rolls, iced OJ and a mug of tea.


She's after something, I know, but I'm just waiting for the sting in the tail.

A few hours soaking up the sun are called for before we head off out.  We're on a mission, you see Herself says we NEED another light for the awning.  We already have two, but apparently we need 3 as we have 3 cross members on the awning roof.

Who am I to argue?  A trip up country is required to Penrose Touring, where upon arrival Herself wastes no time in getting acquainted with the line on brand new £25k caravans on display.  Palpitations were had until Herself's knee started giving her gip, and she could no longer climb the steps in and out.

I dive into the shop to get the add on for our Kampa Sabre lighting kit and have an argument with the kid working the till who made the mistake of taking me for a fool and attempted to short change me by £3.

Herself could see I was a little fraught and suggested lunch before my backside had hit Vera's seat.  We cruise through Hayle and squeeze Vera's bulk into a spot outside The Cornish Arms where we take a table in their beer garden for a superb lunch of lamb burgers washed down with a few pints of Zoider.




We stop briefly in B&M for dog chews and solar lights before making tracks back to the van to sit out and enjoy the sunshine.

I dig out an unopened copy of Practical Caravan and get stuck in, but am taken aback a little when I notice that I feature in it on page 5!  Many rays are soaked up sat in the recliners looking out towards The Scilly Isles with a pint of ice cold Cobra to keep hydration levels up.

It's been a great day, and with clear skies there's one place we want to be this evening, so with tea dishes squared away we make a b line for Lands End, purchase a few pints of zoider and watch the sun drop into The Atlantic behind the Scilly Isles.



It's not often that Herself is lost for words, but when I get back to the table I can see she's gobsmacked and dying to tell me something.  But as I'm deaf there is no way she could whisper it to me discretely.  I pester her though, and somehow (in true Cissie and Ada fashion) I am told how the Chinese family of 6 on the adjacent table had somehow managed to share a medium Cornish pasty between them!

The sun dropped and it went very cold very quickly so we retreat to Vera and go back to site via Sennen Cove for a nose around and settle in for the night with various alcoholic beverages for company.

Sunday 26 October August


Waking up this morning could not have been more different to yesterday.  @DerekTheWeather had predicted a horrendous day and as I released the tension from the blind it was apparent that for once he was right.


Proper mun out there it was, and as I started to put my shoes on to take the dogs out they gave me the "you must be joking" look!

Aside from venturing over to the site shop for some bacon and bread rolls we did very little this morning, content to just slob in the van grunting at each other.

When we left home I'd commented about the number of pairs of shoes Herself had put to one side to come with us, but despite having more pairs than the display window in Stead and Simpson down here with us, Herself has neglected to pack her daps.

From the tone of the conversation I am left in no uncertainty that the boots, walking boots, 4 pairs of sandals, a pair of high heels just in case and 2 pairs of flip flops are inadequate for her needs, and a shopping trip into Penzance is required.

Google tells us there's a Sports Direct on Jew St in the town, so after fighting with the bank holiday hoards for a non disabled and non 30 min max stay space, we are on the escalator up to the shops.  We walked to the top, calling in on various outdoor stores in the search for shoe waterproofer, and a second hand DVD shop to pick up a few DVDs for Beastie when she comes down next week.

Still no sign of Sports Direct though, and upon asking a local we are told it's right down the bottom of the street, quite near to where we parked.  The visit was unsuccessful as they appeared not to have any daps in Herself's size.  Not to worry though as Herself informs me there was a local independent sports shop right by the top of the escalator next to the car park.

The voicing of my frustration fell on deaf ears, but thankfully we exit the shop with a shiny new pair of ASICS daps and Herself is now fully stocked in the shoe department for every occasion.

Herself is now peckish and suggests a pasty for (late) lunch, but I refused to stop at the numerous establishments in town as the hoards were queuing out of the door and suggested an out of town bakery on the way over to Mounts Bay.

We pulled into the car park and I'm dismayed to see they've just closed, and turn off my hearing aid as I know I'm in for a torrent of abuse.  Marazion is rammed and the Philps pasty shop is closed too, so it's back to Penzance where I park upon double yellows outside a Warrens establishment.  I spot a traffic warden at the top of the street, but estimate that I can cross the road, climb the steps, buy the pasties, exit the shop, jump down the steps, cross the road, start up Vera and wheel spin away before he gets to us and starts to print a ticket.

I did.

The aforementioned heartburn inducing savouries are eaten above Sennen Cove while we throw a ball for the dogs, before we drop down into the cove, where the weather is a bit clearer below the clouds.

We timed it just right as crowds were gathering to watch the lifeboat returning from base.





I've never watched a Lifeboat being recovered before, and to be honest am a little surprised at how efficient the process is.

Back on site and Herself takes the opportunity to study the inside of her eyelids for a while and I sit in the awning watching the site come to life as the weather lifts.  It's turning in to a nice evening, and it'd be a shame to waste it by just vegging out in the van, so we head back down to the cove.

Parking up by the harbour, we clip the dogs on their leads for a walk along the front.  We get as far as The Old Success Inn where Herself spots an empty table with a view out to sea and picks up her speed to such an extent that she'd have given Flo-Jo a run for her money.





We call in the 190 Degrees West chippy, along with the rest of West Cornwall to take supper back to the van.  I had squid and chips while Herself opted for fishcakes.

Monday 27 August

It was dry overnight and the sky looks like it's going to stay that way for the next few hours at least.  While I'm out walking the dogs Herself busies herself giving the van a bit of a clean.

I notice the distinct lack of breakfast on the go, not even a kettle coming to the boil.  I say nothing, but vow to keep this one in the back pocket for later.

"I'll do breakfast then?"
"OK, but I don't fancy bacon!"

How can anyone not fancy bacon in the morning?

We are breakfasting on poached eggs in the awning and I can see she's biding her time.  I'm just shovelling in the last mouthful, when she knowingly asks "Did you miss the toilet last night?"

"No, wasn't me love, must have been one of the boys."
"We're on our own, and anyway, they both left home over six months ago! I'll need to buy a new mat."

The mat is brand new, and there's no way I'm throwing it, so volunteer to wash it.  I've just set up our camping twin tub when Herself whistles at me, throwing a bag of laundry at me with a "Seeing that you have it out you just as well do these as well!"


So there I was, sat with a mug of tea, washing my (not so) smalls whilst watching the planes take off through the gap in the hedge.

Once I was done Herself said that while she was cleaning the van this morning she had noticed that the throws were looking well past their best, and stunk of dog (despite being washed before coming away).  She also said that she'd seen the ones she wanted in B&M yesterday.

Back to Penzance we trek to B&M for throws, Morrisons for provisions and the Pirate Inn for a liquid lunch in their beer garden.


Herself wastes no time in ditching the old throws and fitting the new ones as soon as we get back, and the dogs waste no time in jumping straight up onto them to get rid of the strange clean smell.



I'd thrown the ingredients for a curry in the slow cooker earlier and I get into JFO mode to finish it off, we dine in the awning on a rather superb beef and mushroom balti served with keema rice and nibbles.


Herself went for a lie down to sleep it off and I got bored.  Me getting bored is not a good thing as I usually get into trouble.  When we arrived here I didn't level the van properly, and getting up off the toilet requires an array of ropes and carabiners, such is the slope diagonally across the van. This has been bothering me somewhat.

So, I retrieved a jack from Vera, raised the legs a little, positioned the jack under the chassis and started to wind.  It took a bit of doing as the jack initially sunk into the soft grass, but eventually as I turned the van started to lift.  It was going great, but the jack I was using is designed to fit neatly into the jacking points on Vera.  The caravan does not have these.

I'm lying on my belly, winding away, when the inevitable happened.  The jack moved and the van came down with a bang.

I'd forgotten to to inform Herself what I was doing, and it would be fair to say that she stirred from her slumber with a bit of a start.  She had her wits about her though, and in no time she's got her head out of the window and is staring at me with daggers.  Caught red handed I was, no escape, no excuses and no lies.

For those of you that have watched Twin Town, just think rugby club, Fatty Lewis falling off the roof and Bryn Cartwrite.

Herself exits the van and sits at a safe distance while I have another go at it.  I eventually succeeded and we now have a toilet that not only Sir Edmund Hilary can use safely.

As the sun starts to drop we repeat last night.  Down into Sennen Cove, park up next to the harbour and walk along the front to take a table outside The Old Success for a nightcap, watching the rollers crash in.




Till next time.........