A Cornish weekend

We've never been into Cornwall and a visit from Jacks' mom was the perfect opportunity. We left at around 4 on Friday afternoon and pulled up to our B&B in the north coast village of St Agnes, around 5 hours later. The weather came to the party and we set off immediately along a quiet road out of town and turned down a steep path that took us to the beach where we settled into a pub with a delightfully tempting collection of local ales.

Saturday morning began with a breakfast fresh from the shelves of the closest Tesco, except for the eggs that is, that apparently came from a woman named Wendy down the road. With full bellies we set off on a walk along a coastal cliff turning inland after an hour, continuing along a river and then up and over the largest of the hills of the area, all of about 80 metres high. The plan for the day was to explore the far south-west corner of the county (and Country) and we began with a quick look at St Michael's Mount, a rocky island and castle near Penzance. We drove up along the coast, snacking on a compulsory pasty up on a hill and watching a couple of surfers fending off hypothermia. We pulled into St Just, just for a quick beer, and then carried on up the coast to the tourist mecca of St Ives, where we walked through the town and along a quiet beach.

Our choice of weekends could not have been better. The sun was out and we were ahead of the British holidaymakers by a week. Fistral beach , near Newquay, was our first port of call on Sunday morning. We strolled along it's soft sands, watching eager surf students battling the waves and having an even tougher time with the accents of their South African instructors. Padstow is famous for being the home of Rick Stein (a British seafood culinary hero) and was next on our agenda. Set on a lagoon and surrounded by classic English countryside, the town is well worth a visit even if you have zero interest in Rick or his fish. We visited Mr Stein's cafe, the cheaper of his branches and a place where you're able to eat without having to sell your jewellery, or wash dishes. Pretty good, but that's all, certainly not the best we've ever tasted. Last stop was Boscastle, a village that was washed away in 2004, but since then has flourished and welcomed and increasing flow of visitors. It was a great way to end the weekend and gave us some time to stretch our legs before the long haul back to London.