Cornwall

My family have been spending their summer holiday in this part of the world since I was about 5 years old - I can remember the first farm house we stayed in, nestled in golden fields with a downstairs bathroom.  Going down at New Year has only been a family tradition for the last three years or so but in my book doing something twice is enough for it to deserve to be called a tradition.  West Cornwall in December is probably not for you if you are after some winter sun, but it is one of those places that can be explored no matter what the weather or time of year - it always allows you to make new discoveries and tempts you back with the hint of more coyly held secrets.

We had four (yes, FOUR) dogs to keep us company.  Fitting four adults, one nine year old and five dogs into a tiny car was an interesting and muddy experience.

Luckily they slept a lot after their adventures...

...for about 20 minutes.  Then it was time to get up and go again, to seek out new horizons and interesting smells.

 
As a treat one morning we had a delicious brunch at Mackerel Sky Cafe in Penzance.   Sea air and a full English both rank highly on my list of favorite things - both together creates a triple word score combo bonus (if that's a real thing - I'm not a Scrabble player, my spelling isn't up to it.  It's good spelling, but it wobbles and the letters get in the wrong places).

In the land of daydreams and make-believe we bought a chapel that we saw for sale, did it up and made a beautiful home and a tidy profit.  In real life, it didn't have mains water or sewerage and we didnt have the money.  Sad times.

On New Year's Eve, we toasted marshmallows on the beach as 2013 was rung in and watched as a group of enthusiastic young-ens rushed into the sea, unable to wait any longer for their first swim.

“If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.”
―Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca

 See you soon granite shore, don't forget us.

Fewston, we have a problem

My husband and I had a rare and unexpected chance to spend to day together today.  He usually works weekends while I work Monday to Friday - I think the last day off we had together was Christmas day.  This morning I was pottering around in the kitchen, putting a cake in the oven, not expecting him back until late afternoon when he re-appeared.  My natural pessimism and recent overdose of Arrested Development meant I assumed he had been fired.  No such drama however, the rota had simply been wrong.  I had been planning a cinema visit but we decided to make the most of the clear skies and mostly melted snow to get some fresh air and fresh sights for our tired eyes.  So we went to Fewston Reservoir, as recommended by the Walking Englishman.

 
The walk starts in a small car park off the A59 in the delightfully named Blubberhouses and takes you round the reservoir in a loop.  In late January this was a bracing, windy walk around the very swollen waterway, some of it very slushy with Friday's heavy snow fall.  In some of the quieter nooks the surface was frozen - we saw a few ducks milling about on the opaque ice. 

The drowned trees make me think of beavers - blast those beavers and their pesky dam making. 

We were able to indulge in one of our favorite activities, dog gawping.  We saw many lovely specimens and a particularly adorable German Shepherd puppy (sadly I have yet to find the courage to photograph stranger's dogs, no matter how cute they are).  I am still convinced my rent-a-dog business idea is a winner for dog lovers with lifestyles that are not dog friendly.

I was so cold by the time we got back to the car park that I simply had to go and sit in the sauna at the gym and then go home for tea and cake.

Happy Sunday x