We head down to Cornwall for a spell – and yes, we fall under it (the spell, I mean). Cornwall is delicious – the air, the weather, the fields of blooming daffodils, early blossoms – gorse, pussy willow, primroses, the smell of the sea, the cry of seagulls… We march along the coastal path…
…probably make a mistake going to St Ives – disappointed with the Tate this time, though we have loved it before, and I’m afraid this place really is rip-off Britain; it costs a fortune to park (there’s a local campaign to abolish car park charges), a fortune to get into the Tate… altogether, a corroded place…
However, our campsite is of the good ol’ fashioned variety – Bluehills, near the old tin mine of the same name, and St Agnes is sweet and friendly, although we were at risk of being gobbled up by a shark…
Sadly, we have to return to prepare for our summer on the continent! Just a quick look at Tintagel en route…
…and then it’s time to pester family again for a few days….
A Blog on the most important day of the year to the Irish … and not a single mention of the man who saved Ireland from the snakes ! Shame on you ( English ) girl … may your Cricket and Rugby teams be crushed by St Patrick, even before I predict it will be so.
Oh, apologies Oh Wise One, how very remiss of me, and my Irish husband didn’t even notice!