And of course chose the wrong part…..apparently North Cornwall is supposed to be much nicer and less touristy than South Cornwall. This I had learned from Mr P as he read from ‘Visiting Cornwall’ magazine whilst sitting in the cottage we had rented for three nights….Oh very helpful!
The cottage looked very picturesque on the farm’s website. It looked spacious, clean and comfortable….and it was clean. But spacious NO and comfortable NO. In fact as I sit at my laptop typing this post my back is aching from the contortionist lounge furniture provided and don’t get me started on the bed. Well in fact I will start on the bed….Ok we have a superking bed at home and yes it is HUGE and extremely, wonderfully comfortable, unlike the teensy weensy double (?) bed in the cottage. In fact it was so uncomfortable and so tiny that I have come home with the same stance as Quasimodo and now seem to have a yearning to jump around roofs in the dead of night. But then it isnt easy trying to sleep with a fidgety Cocker Spaniel as well as my husband.
It’s a long drive from St Albans to Cornwall – it took five and a half hours (think it might have been six) what with ‘loo stops’ for all three of us and the occasional need for vast amounts of coffee. It also isn’t easy doing six hours in a little Honda Jazz with an irritated husband and a dog wanting to make the great escape every time I lowered the window. However six hours passed during which we had a few interesting arguments, the most prominent being ‘Why did we have to take your crappy little manual when I have a fast automatic sports car’. Well he does have a point, however, my ‘crappy little Honda Jazz doesn’t have a huge and expensive thirst for petrol.
We arrived (yippee), opened the door, admired the outside of the cottage, the sheep, the fields and then the dog escaped. Thank goodness he was waylaid from his Houdini act by something that looked like a fat white short sausage on legs that waddled over to say hello, it turned out to be one of the farm dogs which kept Henry interested for a bit whilst we managed to slip the lead on him.
The next day having spent most of the night swapping beds (in the end I left Mr P and Henry asleep on the tiny double bed whilst I tried to sleep on an even smaller single bed in the second bedroom) We ventured off to explore the delights of Looe….Hmmm not so delightful, Yes I know it has a harbour and there are fisherman but the pong of fish seemed to hang over the whole town – yuck. Parking was a nightmare and when we eventually managed to find a parking space, we began to search for much needed coffee as our caffeine levels had dropped to an alarmingly low level. Unfortunately, we were out of luck….apparently no where in Looe seems to take debit cards. So throwing a double hissy fit we got into the car, put Henry in the back and drove off to Polperro. Polperro is very pretty, very quaint, very touristy and like its neighbouring town has not reached the 21st century and also does not ‘do’ debit cards. Although one (fairly) helpful local yokel suggested we pop into the post office as it has a cash machine. After searching for said post office and dragging poor Henry away from the delights of Polperro’s lamposts, the cash machine had an ‘Out of Order’ sign plastered on it. Grrrrrrr Highly pissed off and in dire need of coffee (yes, I’m addicted to the stuff) we stomped off back to the car, drove back to the cottage and made out own coffee. I have to mention at this point that we took our coffee machine with us!!!!!
The afternoon found us wending our way through narrow country lanes in the search for the ‘perfect Cornish beach’. Hoooray we found it and dogs were allowed. I kicked off my shoes and ran with Henry into the surf, enjoying the feeling of the soft sand between my toes and the warmth of the September sun on my head. And then the tide came in and we got back into the car drove back to the cottage, decided to go home a day earlier (the thought of that torturous bed made us both long for home) and so we arrived home on Saturday night……and that was that.
Notes to self:
1. Put Henry in kennel
2. Do not drive for six hours each way for a short break
3. Listen to Mr P and use his car instead and to hell with the petrol cost.
4. Go to Brighton….much nearer, more cosmopolitan, takes debit cards and has a beach.