Monday:
The weather forecast was not good, and so the first task of the day after cereal for breakfast, was to find a supermarket and stock up of provisions for the week ahead. Tescos may be another evil empire, but they had everything we needed, and stuff we didn’t, like mothers in groups with trolleys blocking aisles.
After a quick lunch of fresh seeded rolls filled with ham off the bone we headed back out along the seven miles of single track lane to the main road and then south to the fishing village of Fowey.
18 years ago, I went to a wedding in Fowey, and had been wanting to go back there ever since. On the southern coast of Cornwall, Fowey is situated at the mouth of a river, and clings to the rocks and hills, all linked by stupidly narrow lanes and full of pretty buildings. All beside a picturesque harbour full of yachts and fishing boats.
Its funny how the years dull the memory, but the town was nothing like I remembered, and I could not find the hotel I stayed in, or where the reception was held in. We made do with some window shopping, and wandering along the harbour side taking pictures; or at least I did.
After what seemed the proper amount of time of struggling through the wandering tourists and dodging maniac cars whilst walking in the streets.
What we thought we needed was more of the same so we got back in the car and headed to Mevagissey.
Mevagissey is another fishing village at the mouth of a river, now relying on the tourist trade to get by. I would imagine there is only so much crab and winkles people could want, but that town was also crowded and ridiculously picturesque as well. So, I dutifully recorded it on the camera, along with its two harbours.
There was just enough time to grab a quick pint of the local brew along with a bag of pork scratchings.
Then it was time to head back in the car and tackle the narrow lanes of Cornwall and get back to the cottage in time for dinner.
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