Misty, the most photogenic pony in West Cornwall

There’s something about the joining of these motifs that has turned them into a thing of real beauty. I loved stumbling across, fortunately not literally, this bicycle after a walk and a chat to the coastwatch guard at Cape Cornwall.Do you see why I absolutely love West Cornwall? The sea there from left to right as we like being in the villages, along the coast roads and South West Coast Path which stretches from St Ives to Land’s End. As you’re basically on a peninsula the sea is all around, it’s bliss for a land-locked water lover like myself. It wasn’t too hot either with the sea breeze to cool things down, but there was still a fair bit of slapping on sunscreen as the temperatures were high. We are having a proper summer here, it’s begun to feel unrelenting now actually; gardens and the land need rain.

If you do get too hot in West Cornwall there’s always plenty of cider, cool beer or very cold lager shandy to aid the cooling down process….

I was just reading a comment about the importance of reconnecting with childhood passions, this really resonated with me as coincidentally I’ve reflected upon this a lot while away. It is important to reconnect with things that gave us immense pleasure when younger, if they still appeal. It’s about giving time and space to our true selves and not becoming old and stagnating, I think. Do you agree?

What did you love to do when a child?

I really liked boat trips, canoeing, cycling in the countryside around my village and swimming. We had a small cabin cruiser and a canoe, seaside holidays always lasted a fortnight every summer, and we messed about by the village stream all through my childhood.

I’ve always shied away from the bucket list trend; as I dislike making things I’d like to enjoy, or achieve into ‘homework’. A resolution I made, while away, is I want to go on a lot more different kinds of boats. I asked if I could take up canoeing or kayaking during a recent physio appointment, the answer was predictably safe: “Try it for 15 minutes and see.” I’m going to sometime. Maybe I’ll hire one with a friend who can take over. Fifteen minutes will fly past.

We jumped onto one of the boats which take visitors over to St Michael’s Mount rather than wait for early afternoon when the low tide reveals the causeway. It was ready for walking upon, back across to Marazion, by the time we’d explored the castle gardens. We started off on it but then copied a family by heading diagonally off to walk along the sea towards the beach. The water was up to my knees and we spotted jellyfish on the sand and tiny gurnards swimming around our feet.

The heather was coming into flower during the week

I wasn’t meant to be walking long distances, and if I did even short walks I was advised to take a flask of coffee and a rug to pause for frequent rests. I did consider my own version of this: a bottle or two of cider and a beach towel, but that’s not sensible for Coast Path walking in the heat, is it?

After some deliberation about being cautious, versus being away and doing what we had planned, I’m so glad we went for it on Friday. We wanted to complete a section of the coast path from Cape Cornwall to Sennen. This means we’ve now walked a continuous stretch of the SW Coast Path from Morvah to Mill Bay, which is around past Land’s End.

The haze of blue is linseed in the last pic, and the yellow in the photo above, is buttercups. Beautiful.

Anyone know the name of this pretty pink flowered wild succulent?

The stretch of coast path takes you above two bays of golden sand. We ended up straying from the path because it was so appealing to walk alongside the sea for the last few minutes. No lunch, just a snack of a couple of biscuits and water along the way meant we were famished by our arrival at Sennen Cove by 5pm. Pasty time! I had a traditional beef one and I can’t tell you how good it tasted as I sat on a rock by the beach, waiting for a bus to St Just.

I’d walked 9 miles by the time we got back to our cottage. Oops. It was a challenging walk in places; sliding down scree, clambering over rocks and up and down steep stone steps, but the sense of achievement was pretty immense. I wore a tubi grip on my knee throughout, asked for a few scoops of ice for my knee (a freezer bag and clip-it is now essential kit) and nursed a large (guess?) drink at the end in The Wellington pub at St Just. I was no more crippled by the following morning, so it’s all good. I’m happy.

On our (reluctant) journey towards Devon, and ultimately home, on Saturday, we stopped in Looe, South East Cornwall for four hours. This is somewhere I’d never been before, while Someone was exploring favourite childhood holiday haunts. It’s a real bucket and spade and rock (candy) sort of place.

By mid-afternoon a strange phenomenon had occurred: the glass-bottomed boat we had decided to take a trip on disembarked its passengers, then took off to an out-of-the-way mooring place, the beach cleared of men and older boys, the pubs became packed and shouty, what was happening?

Instead of going right to our Exeter hotel for the night we called into Paignton for dinner and a wander (goodbye golden Cornish sands, hello funny red stuff.) And everywhere, and I mean everywhere, you could hear ‘Its coming home, it’s coming home, football’s coming home’ playing, singing, chanted (while staggering) or shouted. The euphoria of England winning the quarter-final against Sweden was tangible. Noisy. Jubilant. By Sunday evening I had to slowly sing ‘Happy Birthday to You’ through twice to get rid of the ear worm which plagued me from hearing that damn song so much!

A visit to the lovely, but parched, The Court’s Garden in Wiltshire on Sunday ended a brilliant 10 day holiday. It’s been thirty degrees for most of last week and I’ve never seen wilted chard and beetroot growing in a kitchen garden before, everything was struggling in the heat and with the lack of rain. I headed from one patch of shade to the next in the arboretum, when in the full sun I found myself becoming rather chard like…

Chatting to a couple from Gloucester, while we all leant over to peer in the pond did the trick of cooling down. I saw cavorting water snails, newts, dragonfly nymphs, whirlygig beetles, small fish, tadpoles, a dragonfly and damsel flies. I’ve just read my yarny friend Phil’s, of the Twisted Yarn blog, post about her new pond, it’s an interesting read.

Yesterday catching up with Mum, who is lamenting the loss of so many of her plants, I was amused to see Barty obviously having a very taxing day. It’s quite tricky wearing a fur coat in the hot sun, better find the shade and then playfully roll on the dirt.

It’s rather ironic as this is the time of year when my crochet and knitting slow down. I don’t wish to be under a pile of sweaty yarn or even handle it. I was really in the throes of enthusiasm for making everything I saw back in April, when I overdid it and injured myself. I have not made a stitch now for three months. But today I had my penultimate physio appointments (knee and elbow/hand) and the good news is that in a few days I can try to crochet or knit. But…..I’ve lost my drive to do it really now! A week or so ago I even stopped moaning about not being able to do any! However soon I can try again for 5-10 minutes max, see how it goes then do a little more in a few days. If it makes me sore then do not try for another week. If ok do more in a few days. I have my last physio appointment in a few weeks time. Cross your fingers and toes for me that I can comfortably hold a hook and yarn again, please. The heat will soon pass, it is England after all, and I will be raring to go.