Saturday 29 August
Winds picked up last night with a weather warning in place, but thankfully we'd had a message off Roids at just after midnight and Ronnie at 2.30 am to say they'd arrived home safely.
Though we'd seen Ronnie again shortly after they'd left! During our clean up after waving them off we discovered that they'd left their dog lead behind. With them having only just gone we thought we'd catch them before Penzance, so set off in hot pursuit.
Into the high winds we ventured but were held up by a few HGVs, and we're approaching Ca,bourne before Ronnie's tail lights come into view. With the cargo handed over we do a U turn and head back westwards.
We had a moment on an exposed stretch as there was an almighty noise from outside. I slowed right down thinking we'd had a blowout and crawled to the next lay bye. But things were not adding up, as Toyah felt OK.
I got out with my torch, all 4 wheels fully inflated, I looked up at the roof box and that appeared closed, did another circuit of the wheels, kicking them for good measure, which in itself was a huge error of judgement as my sandal clad toes will testify.
I give the roof box a shake, and it moves, I work my way forward and the front lifts. The pennies start to drop, and I hope we've not dropped the contents on the A30. The front catch had not engaged!!
With that re-secured we pull back out and I keep the speed down as a precaution.
Anyway, we were rocked all night as the yellow weather warning hammered us from a northerly direction this time, luckily the stone wall behind our pitch gave us a degree of protection.
I get up to light a flame under the kettle and spring the kitchen blind. Immediately my mood sinks as I'm greeted to the view of an empty pitch next to us.
I turn the flame off and take the dogs over to Sennen to wipe the sleep from my eyes. Don't let the hint of blue skies fool you, there's a vicious bite to the stiff northerly winds, and it's bloody hard work standing there.
Back on site I check the pegging points before discussing our options for the day with Herself over a cuppa and a packet of Hobnobs. We have no plans to go too far today due to it being a BH weekend, but need a few odds and ends.
The site is quiet, and pitched are emptying and it's on my way back from the toilet block that I wonder if it was something we said, or had my episodes of flatulence been a little too much for people?
This is social distancing to the extreme!!
First stop on our "foraging" outing is the farm shop at St Buryan where from the other side of a perspex screen we procure a fist full of runner beans and a bag of new potatoes (covered in mud). The fish counter at Morrisons is next for some salmon fillets, B&M for a dog basket for Gwawr and lastly Argos for some grill mats to use on the Weber.
With mission accomplished we take the scenic route back through Newlyn and Mousehole, and we're back on site just in time for me to set up my "dodgy" TV box so I can watch The Scarlets match as they take on The Dragons.
While I watch the game from the comfort of the bedroom Herself got our tea on the go. Now I like going down the club to watch the odd game on the big screen, but I have to admit that the half time grub that Herself served up was somewhat nicer than the sausage and chips or cawl that is offered down there. Llangennech RFC, if you're reading this you need to up your game in that department!
We won, and we won comfortably. I spend some time baiting @robindavey01 on Twitter before we take the dogs over to Sennen for another run.
The wind is still howling and it's bloody cold, so cold in fact that I put 2 coats on in a feeble attempt to stay warm. We drop down into the cove, and with Toyah's heating cranked up to furnace level we sit in the harbour car park taking in the view - and the sight of some nutters in the ocean. My shivers returned just looking at them!!
Sunday 20 August
We had an early night last night, and I'll confess that I was in bed and snoring by 9.15 pm - rock 'n' roll eh!!
I'm wide awake and feeling fresh by 4.30 am and get the feeling that something isn't quite right. I peak out of the window and see that the wind had dropped, it's earily still out there. I lie in bed watching the sun rise before getting up at 6am to tap some keys in the company of a mug of builders and a packet of Hobnobs.
Over breakfast we hatch a loose plan for the day. The weather looks good, but on checking the county's web cams it appears to be a little better up country off the Lands End Peninsular.
A morning of chores beckons thought. We're over a week into the holiday and I'm fast running out of usable pants. They've been on the right way, back to front and inside out both ways, so a morning at the washers and dryers is necessary.
Time to go out, and sure enough, as we approach Penzance we are cruising under blue skies, and as we park up at our destination and get out of the air conditioned cabin a wall of heat hits us. Lovely!
The dogs get clipped on and we set off on a cliff top walk at Hell's Mouth towards St Agnes.
At the top of the first climb we pause to take in the view, but the ocean is too calm for us to appreciate the effect of the blowhole. Herself's attention is drawn down to the small beach below where a lone seal is making its way onto the sand.
We carry on, pausing frequently to appreciate the view and make the most of photo opportunities, enjoying both the fresh ocean air and the warming sun.
I'm mindful of Herself's knackered knee (not that she's shown the pain she's in) and Tali's knackered hip, so we do no more than a few miles before turning back around to retrace our steps, finding a ledge to perch on to have a drink and soak in the greatness of the region.
Back in Toyah Herself enquires what we're going to do about tea. My response of "playing it by ear" didn't go down too well.
"Are you serious?" she asked, before continuing to demolish me further "It is Sunday on a BH weekend!"
I get the sinking feeling that this is going to hurt.
"It's bad enough down here anyway, and we usually have trouble finding somewhere serving food on a Sunday, let alone a BH Sunday, and one which has more people down here on staycation, and with all the serving restrictions and lack of tables due to COVID!"
I turn off my hearing aids as she continued.
Once I can see her jaws have stopped moving from the corner of my eye, I'm ready to converse once more.
Walking up to the fish counter in Cambourne Morrisons we encounter the most unhelpful and miserable gits working in retail in the UK.
Herself firstly asks if we can have 2 trout filleted please, and the halfwit on the other side of the ice looked at us like we had 2 heads. He calls over his mate, Who also looks like he spent his days in school in the remedial or slow learners class (are you still allowed to call them that these days or have they got a new sparkly name?), and after twitching while he processed our request informs us that they're not allowed to touch the knives and that the fishmonger is on his break.
We say we'll be back in 10 mins which confuses them even more. We pick up everything else we need before returning.
It would appear that the man who is allowed to touch the knives is back, but he's not in the best of moods. We stand behind a couple in a socially distanced queue. They like the look of some Sea Bass and pointed two out that they wished to purchase. We look on aghast as the charm challenged apron refuses to serve them with the fresh ones on ice, instead pointing them in the direction of the chiller where there are a few already shrink wrapped on polystyrene trays.
Our turn now......
"Can we have two trout please?"
The apron grunts as he bends over the ice.
"Filleted please."
The apron pauses, and looks up at Herself.
"You want them filleted?" he sneered.
"Well yes, unless it's too much trouble."
"Filleted?"
"Yes, like we said. You are allowed to touch the knives aren't you?"
I was losing patience with the apron by now and he had some back!
Back at Trevedra, and it too is under blue skies. I decide to try again with our windbreaks. It took a bit of time as some poles needed the attention of a plumbers wrench, but I'm please to note that they survived the attack from Storm Francis to live another day.
No sooner is the last peg banged in than Herself has the chairs and table out, and has poured me a pint to enjoy. I love this girl mind.
My arse had not had chance to start sweating in the chair before it had gone mind and thoughts turned to tea. We were right out of tins of Beans and Sausages, so had to make do with a few seared trout fillets served with new potatoes tossed in Rhoda butter, runner beans and asparagus drizzled with prawns in a lemon butter sauce..
Thee meal was superb, as was the view from the dining table.
With dishes cleared away a decision had to be made. Do we go down to the cove for a stroll or do we change into our PJs and get stuck into a bottle of Scilly Isles gin as the sun drops into the Atlantic behind the very same islands?
The Gin won the day.
Monday 31 August
Great night's kip, and we wake to blue skies and no wind. I sit on the edge of the bed looking out towards the airport as I scratch my gonads before creaking my body into life.
Why is it that as you get older you find it impossible to stand up or sit down without making a noise?
Herself announces that she'll get breakfast on the go while I take the dogs for their early morning walk. Around the field I trek in eager anticipation of a feast. By the time we've done 2 laps I'm salivating. In my head I have an image of bacon, sausages, a few fried potatoes, eggs and maybe some beans with a slice or 2 of hot buttered toast on the side with a mug of steaming builders.
I try to put that out of my mind but settle on the thought of a bacon butty. I unzip the awning and all is not well. I can smell no bacon!
Herself announces that breakfast is ready and I'm presented with a few buttered crumpets.
My "I didn't realise we were having a starter." didn't go down too well at all.
We have a lazy morning around the van and take the opportunity to sit outside in the sun. Shipping traffic is busy this morning, and the inner anorak in me came surging to the surface as I fire up the Live Marine Traffic page on my phone to bore Herself silly as I inform her as to what type of ship is passing, where it came from and where it is heading.
Herself eventually has enough of my restlessness and agrees we can go out. She's been hankering after a painting of Sennen Cove. We're not art buffs at all, and know nothing about it, but as we spend so much time down here she wants a painting to adorn our living room wall at home.
We've walked past the Roundhouse Gallery in Sennen many times but never darkened its doors.
With a coin fed into the machine and the dogs clipped on we make out way over. I dutifully stand outside in the shade with Tali and Gwawr while Herself goes in to peruse their wares. Now I said just now that we know nothing about art, or what it is supposed to cost, but suffice to say that the price tag on the piece she fancied had a zero too many at £2250 for it to be adorning the walls of "Home is Where You Drag it" Towers any time soon (at all).
We return to Toyah and sit on her boot ledge soaking up the view. It needs no describing.
St Just is next where we abandon Toyah in the FREE car park. They have 5 or 6 galleries here, but unfortunately on a BH Monday only 1 appears to have bothered to open.
I walk into the Windswept Gallery trying my very best to look like I know what I'm doing. I approach the hippy behind the perspex screen and explain that I'm looking for prints of Sennen Cove.
"The only ones I have of Sennen Cove will be in that box over there." as she points to the box under the window which has SALE written rather tastefully on the side.
I'm sold already.
Virtually smelling the money in my wallet, the hippy then beckons Herself inside (even with the dogs) to see if there any prints that she fancies -when did this turn into a plural?
Anyway, within a few minutes Herself has picked out 3 pieces by Sarah Vivian to have framed when we get back home.
We pick up fish and chips on the way back and set the table up outside to devour them in the warm evening sunshine.
Tuesday 1 September
Another fine morning as I perch on the edge of the bed looking out towards the airport.
After yesterday's breakfast debacle, I take charge again this morning, and our Kampa Fry Up it taken outside, sat on the Weber and put to work cooking up some bacon and eggs.
I swear there is no better smell to get you going in the morning, and to steal a phrase from Oz "I've yet to meet a man who can sleep through the smell of hot lard!
We've no plans to go far at all today, and apart from short trips for necessary chores we've no plans to set foot outside our doggy enclosure. Herself gets out our new Isabella recliners and footstools for the first time and we embark on a serious session of vitamin D intake.
We did put our stay on site to good use though. You see, on arrival our pitch had been destroyed by previous occupants. The owners had kept it empty for 3 weeks prior to our arrival in the hope that it recovered, but when pitching we had no grass under the awning.
We've been periodically lifting the groundsheet for a few hours in a bid to dry out the mud underneath, but I fear it's a lost cause. The owners of the site tell us not to worry about it any more and to enjoy our holiday, but to be honest we were doing it for ourselves as much as anything else as it doesn't feel too pleasant to walk on.
Please note all you selfish people who put a sheet of polythene down under your breathable groundsheet .... this is what is does to the pitch that some unfortunate has to pitch on after you!
Apart from dropping the sleeping annex we did nothing else all day, except walk over to the shop to pick up some pasties for lunch.
It's 4.45 pm by the time we venture off site, firstly over to Sennen to give the dogs a run before taking a spin over to The Queens Arms in Botallack in the hope of procuring an evening meal.
With the dogs leaded we peer around the corner and see an empty table in the beer garden right at the top that won't get shaded from the evening sun. They have laminated instructions stapled to the table telling you to scan the QR code that will direct you to their app with which you can order your food and drink directly.
Great, sounds simple.
I then waste the next 1/4 hr trying to download the required app, it took some doing, but eventually I have it occupying the screen for my S20.
I then waste the next 1/4 hr trying to use the said app, but it appears to show a takeaway menu, with no method of payment. I give up and go into the pub. I'm not allowed to use the back door direct from the garden but must go all the way round through the car park to the front.
I step into the perspex maze of the interior and stand dutifully on the taped X on the floor, waiting to be called forward to an ordering cubicle. The senile hippy on the other side of the screen looks up at me.
"Would it be possible to have a menu please?"
"When did you want to eat?"
"Well, now if you're serving."
"Let me see," she starts to look at the touch screen pretending to know what she's doing, "How many of you are there?"
"Two"
"You're in luck, I've got one table left."
She says as she waves her hands at all the perspex cubicles.
"We've already got a table, we're out the back."
"Out the back?"
"Yes, is that a problem?"
"So you don't need a a table then?"
"Not if you're serving food outside."
"That's OK then, as long as you order really quickly so that we can start cooking before our bookings come in."
"I did try and use the app to order, but couldn't get it to work."
"Oh that. No it's useless. It's never worked."
"Didn't you think to take the notices off the outside tables then?"
"What?"
By now Herself is messaging me as she's wondering what's wrong. I take out our drinks and a printed A4 sheet which is an exact copy of the "takeaway menu" online.
I trudge round the front once more and stand on the X to make my order. There's one customer in front of me at the perspex screen, and he seems to be having a little difficulty deciding between salt 'n' vin or cheese and onion crisps, so the waitress risks her life by coming out from behind the protection of her screen to take my order, explaining that I'll need to wait for crisp man to finish before I can pay.
By the time I've done this I'm racing our starters up the garden to our table. The Hallumi fries came in a cardboard box with wooden knives and forks!
Next up was mains. Herself had ordered fish and chips and I'd gone for bangers and mash with onion gravy. They also came in a box.
As nice as the food was, I still begrudge paying full menu prices to eat out of takeaway containers! Herself could have had the same for £5 less just 2 miles down the road, and by the time I wanted to make my way into the 2nd sausage my knife and fork had taken on a bit of moisture and had lost the will to live!
Back on site the choppers are overhead once more, and I could hear the blades on this one as it come in over Longships.
Until next time.....
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