Don’t Open this Blog!! It Contains Filth.

We’ll not really and you opened it anyway so you’re as daft as me – ha ha. Two nights ago I ended up in Portreath doing b&b for the second time this trip. Sue and Steve were the hosts and donated the fee to Help for Heroes. It’s people like them who put the Great in Britain – without being unnecessarily jingoistic. Thank you, lovely couple.
I gave it a good walk round Cornwall’s Heritage coast, past mine shafts, quarries and mine buildings which generated wealth for a few and in fairness a living (albeit low level) for many in centuries past.

This valley running down to the sea is typical – verdant and besmirched by old tin, lead and silver mine workings – mostly tin.
I met up with Susie and Pete at their Holiday site near Hayle yesterday (Tuesday) and had a very pleasant afternoon and evening with them – conking out under Wilson after I’d tied him to their caravan. The sunset from the bistro below their caravan was of Caribbean proportions. Breath-taking and this idiot didn’t have a camera. But he did when Susie and Pete posed.
Auntie Susan, over 50 years old and still looks lovely, like her sister. Pete’s not bad either for a toyboy.

Today I’ve walked from their place to St Ives. Never been before and I’ve heard all this pretentious cobblers from artists on the telly about the unique light at St Ives and it’s beneficial effect for etchings and stuff. But it’s true! I’ve been walking in the rain and on the approach to St Ives it has been illuminated by little pockets of sunlight and the town has shone. I’m now up in the hills behind St Ives waiting for the rain to ease up so I can tie Wilson to a hedge.

Maggie’s down on Friday for 4 nights – hooray! I miss the old dear when she’s not near.

I screwed up arrangements with my sister, Debs. She was going to join me in September for a few days and we changed it to August, but I still had September in my brain. She couldn’t get hold of me and missed out on the walk. Sorry my old kid, sorry, sozzer. Now that’s the extent of my pee pot penitence because I’ve spent all my life feeling guilty and sorry and that’s enough now. But I’m sorry I missed Debs as we don’t get any time together.

Padstow is owned by Rick Stein you know. He’s got summat like 8 trading properties and the town is heaving with people desperate to be associated with the brand. “Let’s walk down this cobbled street with three million others in FrankenSteinville and gather warmth from the reflected glory of the name of the Father, Son, Holy Ghost, Bistro, Restaurant, Chippy, Gift shop et al. Rick. Rick. Rick”.
Don’t know if you saw Rick Clayton’s comments on my lack of blogs etc but they were so brilliant I nearly wet my kecks.

Newquay is tacky, deteriorating and haunted by drug addicts. Young kids without teeth.

The rest of Cornwall so far is lovely. Cliffs drop down 300, 400, 500 feet just feet from the coast path and you hope there isn’t a blast of wind to carry you away.

Late August and empty beaches. Lovely.

Night
1. Porlock
2. Lynton
3. Hunters Inn
4. Coombe Martin
5. Woollacombe
6. Braunton
7. Bideford
8. Abbotsham
9. Hartland
10. Morwenstowe
11. Bude
12. Crackington Haven
13. Tintagel
14. Port Gaverne
15. Rock
16. Harlyn
17. Trevarrian
18. Perranporth
19. Portreath
20. Hayle
21. St Ives