Coming Home Cornwall?
If you know me you’ll probably know that Sarah and I are on holiday in Cornwall this week. If you’re expecting a postcard well don’t. I won’t be sending any as I’ve got too much reading and walking to do to be bothered with all that. But here’s one anyway, via the blog.
We arrived on Sunday evening.
I’d forgotten how beautiful St Ives is.
A place that is sacred to the two of us.
When Sarah got her life-threatening cancer diagnosis, nearly ten years ago now, we adopted St Ives as our safe place to come before and in between major treatments and results. So that rather than sit and worry at home in Liverpool, we’d come here and walk the beaches and the hills together. Embracing what we had of life, however long or short that might turn out to be.
It has so far turned out to be long. So here we are back in St Ives for the first time in eight years.
Out this morning through one of our favourite parts of town, Barnoon Cemetery.
Where the dead can see the sea.
And many of the dead are artists.
Here’s one of his St Ives paintings.
Observing the living from Barnoon.
Leaving the cemetery we observe one of the living surfing off Porthmeor Beach. Encouraged, Sarah walks along the front and books herself in for a surfing lesson.
‘Half nine tomorrow morning then?’
I won’t be there of course. I merely sit here humming ‘Surf’s Up’ by The Beach Boys. The closest I’ll get to joining in.
I go for a look at The Tate, major works going on at the moment.
Then down onto Porthmeor Beach.
A perfectly beautiful place.
Into the water for the first time this holiday.
Then round the corner to the next beach, Porthgwidden.
Which is where the colourful holiday chalets are.
Another perfect place.
Lunch is on the verandah here.
St Ives, Porthgwidden, October 2016.
Leaving Porthgwidden and walking round to the town beach and the harbour we find an artist at work.
Filling this headland with balancing rocks.
Not everyone thinks it’s that unusual.
Across the bay is another of the beaches of St Ives, Porthminster. The only one we won’t be visiting today.
Arriving at the harbour I point out some kayaks.
‘No they’re not!’ admonishes Sarah.
Turns out these are just ‘sit-ons.’ Pretty much air-filled surf boards people can paddle about on ‘For fun’ sniffs Sarah. And in no way to be compared to the noble sea kayak slicing through the Atlantic waves!
Sarah had, by the way, wanted to book in some real sea kayaking while we’re down here, but no luck. There’s some big convention on over at Falmouth and all the coaches she knows are there.
So we’ll just have to do our best to enjoy ourselves somehow. Here’s the Town Beach.
Which is also the harbour, and where a catch is being landed.
Watched carefully by one interested observer.
Good to see and no doubt supplying all the restaurants in town?
On the dashboard of a truck on the pier here.
A small but working port.
And catch landed, straight back out to sea.
Lock ups for the gear?
And topped off by a beautiful lighthouse.
After which, some shopping happened.
Sarah introduced herself as an expert shopper to the delighted local clothes stores, who all realised she was only limbering up today. Meanwhile I visited the bookshop and bought the two books I’ll read whilst here.
Then we went for a sunny sit in a secret place.
As late afternoon turned into evening.
Lovely to be back here. And sending this postcard home.