We returned from a relaxing break in Mousehole, Cornwall,On Friday. We got home from Wales late afternoon last Saturday, and left for Cornwall on Sunday lunchtime, arriving in time for a sunset dog walk on the beach. We had Monday to ourselves, and enjoyed a pint and a pasty at a pub a few miles away, before a cliff top walk in bright sunshine, finishing the day off traditionally with a Cornish cream tea.
Alain and Les joined us on Tuesday. We arranged to meet them at the harbour side pub in Mousehole, since it was easier to find than my cousins’ holiday cottage where we were staying. Les walked in just a few minutes after we arrived, explain that Alain had gone to park the car. We assumed that Alain had chosen to use the easily accessible car park on the edge of the village, but he walked in somewhat stressed, stated that he’d parked the car and had no intention of moving it until we travelled home, and demanded a beer. In Canada roads are wide, straight, and relatively quiet. Alain had opted for the car park on the far side of the harbour, only a short distance away, but which involved navigating through groups of tourists along very narrow twisting streets, and having to reverse at least once to allow an oncoming vehicle through. He recovered over a couple of beers and locally caught fish and chips, while we all caught up on each other’s news before we helped them “moved in” to the cottage (there is no vehicle access).
Les had a list of things that he wanted to do – see St Ives, visit Lands’ End, and have a Cornish pasty. Alain had a very short list – go mackerel fishing, preferably with all four of us. We only had two full days together, and so on Wednesday decided to head for St Ives, stopping in Penzance to book an evening fishing trip for the following day. We discovered that the only trip available was between 1 and 3pm, not a good time to leave the dogs in the car on a warm day, and so the trip was booked for Les and Alain.
During a previous trip we discovered that parking in St Ives is impossible after mid-morning, and that catching a train is preferable. This time we discovered that parking in the closest railway station is impossible after early morning, and so we revised the plan, and went to the pub that Chantal and I had previously visited, so that Les could tick off “eat Cornish pasty” on his list. We spent the afternoon at Lands’ End, arriving just as Search and Rescue helicopter was undertaking an exercise just beyond the cliff edge – very exciting and photogenic!
Lands’ End is a bit commercialised (although, as Alain pointed out, not in the same league as the brash commercialisation of Niagara Falls), and we walked around the network cliff top paths, visiting a couple of gift shops, and, in Chantal’s case, a craft shop, before returning to the cottage.
Les, Alain and I spent part of the evening in the Ship Inn in Mousehole, before going back to Chantal to spend the rest of the evening drinking wine and eating Wasabi peas, an international delicacy only recently discovered by Les.
The following day dawned grey and drizzly, and Alain was suffering a little from the consequences of beer, wine and wasabi peas. Both Alain and Les had lost their enthusiasm for fishing, and so Alain and I went for a walk, partly for fresh air, partly for Alain to purchase his daily take-out cappuccino, and partly to phone the fishing company (there is no phone reception at the cottage), and we were relieved to get a voice mail advising the that the trip had been cancelled due to bad weather. Since the sea was like a mill pond, it was likely that the true reason was a lack of customers – possibly just the two of them. Instead we had a remarkably relaxed day – reading the papers, having a pub lunch, a short walk around the village, tea at a café overlooking the bay, and a beer on the terrace of a pub overlooking St Michaels Mount.
Yesterday’s journey home was not as relaxed. We travelled on Friday afternoon so that Steven and Sherry could visit and see Alain and Les. Thanks to congestion on the M5 it was a 6 1/2 hour journey, and we were glad to get home for a glass (bottle?) of wine or two over a home cooked pasta dinner, generally chatting while waiting for Steven and Sherry to arrive.
Technically we live in Oaktree House, but sadly the tree had to go.
We now have a thriving Oakstump at the front of the house.
