There are some very rare, much sought after items in the world today. For example, there are still some copies of Magna Carta unaccounted for. And people still seek jewels larger than the Cullinan diamond. But today, dear reader, I can confirm that I have found something that would make even the finders of those rarities jealous. Yes folks, we found a free car parking space in Cornwall.
We had arrived in Port Gaverne, just around the headland from Port Isaac in north Cornwall. Port Isaac will be known to millions of TV viewers as Port Wenn, home of the grumpy Doc Martin in the ITV series of the same name. But we weren’t here to spot Martin Clunes. We had driven to this tiny harbour on the last day of our holiday because the four more intrepid members of our small group of six and a half were planning to go out on the water in a dangerously small kayak. Well, it looked dangerous to me, but that’s why I wasn’t part of the sea-going party. It also looked too perilous to Rachel and Rio the dog (the “half” in our group). The four were obviously undeterred by our nautical experiences on the Padstow ferry earlier in the week.
The No Parking signs were as abundant as seagulls in this little harbour village. We had been perched nervously on double yellow lines while the four sailors checked into the office and then squeezed into their wetsuits, but then, in a scene reminiscent of the start of the Le Mans 24 hour race, Rachel suddenly burst into action, handing me Rio’s lead and hurtling across the road before jumping into the car. Continuing the movie scene re-enactment theme, reminding me of Fast and Furious 13 (or whatever number they’re up to by now), she reversed into a space that had just been vacated by someone who must’ve had somewhere more interesting to be. Rio and I looked at each other, then back at Rachel, and gave her a well-deserved round of applause. We could relax, not having to worry about Traffic Wardens as we watched our youngsters go to their certain deaths on the sea.
Down to the beach we all went to listen to the safety talk and to say our last goodbyes. Joseph, David and Annie looked excited; Daniel less so, occasionally raising an eyebrow at us and giving us a nervous little smile. We had treated them all to this experience, and I think that’s what stopped him from running away as he didn’t want to appear ungrateful. I have to say I was impressed by this perfect example of the British stiff upper lip.
Safety talk over, they headed out to sea, waved off by Rio with, I’m sure, a tear in her eye.
And then – drama! Within seconds one of the boats capsized and my decision not to be a part of this was justified. Thankfully it wasn’t one of our group’s boats, and all the occupants survived simply by immediately righting themselves. Well, that looked easy. Maybe they won’t all die after all, and we could go and relax while we waited for them to come back.
For two hours we amused ourselves by reading (me) completing a sudoku puzzle (Rachel) and being patted by strangers (Rio). We had found a little spot overlooking the beach and watched as a large organised group of teenagers played games and ate sandwiches on the sands. It looked like they were part of an adventure group, as they were being supervised by three or four adults. At one point one of the adults lost his temper with a few of them and his shouty tones drifted across the whole village as he went increasingly red in the face before stomping off. You can’t stomp on a beach though, as you need a noise to really make an impression and no matter how hard you try there’s no sound produced by stomping on sand. Whatever he had said had the desired effect though, as the kids looked suitably chastened after having been admonished for their crimes. We all thought that the guy was a little over the top to be honest. Rio said that they all looked like decent kids to her and we agreed.
Our four decent kids returned. (I say kids but their average age is 28). They’d had a good time out on the high seas – well, the trip around the headland – and even Daniel looked like he’d enjoyed it after all. We set out a picnic and munched our sandwiches while they relived the adventure. And after the sandwiches we found a table at the Port Gaverne Hotel we ate chips and those who weren’t driving downed a pint. The chips were necessary to restock the energy lost while exercising at sea. Or, in my case, because I was on holiday and I like chips.
Back to Tintagel then, and a last night meal in the “Ye Olde Malthouse Inn.” It’s a genuine fourteenth century Inn which was built when the height of the average Englishman must have been only 5′ 3″, so anyone taller than that needs a crash helmet to walk through the bar. The place must have been feeding and watering travellers, tin miners and fishermen since the time of Edward III – and some of my jokes. And tonight it was our turn. I went vegan for no other reason than it was the most attractive thing on the menu. Pulled Pork burger (as enjoyed by Edward III himself no doubt) which had no pork in it! And it was deeeelicious (the extra “e”s are an attempt to emphasise the tastiness). It was made even more so by the facts that a) it was served up by some very friendly and welcoming staff, and b) paid for by the surviving kayakers as a thank you for the holiday.
And that my friends was Cornwall in 2023. The weather let us down on a number of occasions, but the company was the best and I will remember it for a long time. I’d go again in a heartbeat, whatever the weather. And as long as Rio comes too.
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