So here we are in Cornwall. First English summer holiday for 50 years. First time I’ve ever been to Cornwall and Devon. And its bloody wonderful. Though fucking exhausting. There’s so much to do in England. All other countries offer endless sunshine and footballers who dive a lot. England has sooooo much to offer the innocent tourist, like me.

We started our voyage in Lyme Regis. The seaside resort chosen to typify and exemplify the consistency of the genre. And it does. It still has people sitting outside their little beach huts, with an almost smug look, relaxing outside a 5 foot by 6 foot windowless box, that says: ‘yes, I have my beach hut, in pink/blue/green for the week/month/season, and you don’t’. Whilst his children pull on his legs and go: “oh daaaaad, per-leaeaeaeaeaease let me have one of those (fill in overpriced piece of coloured plastic shit of your choice); its oooooonly £526.97!!!!!”

In the intervening 50 years food has changed. But not at the seaside. Its as if a half century of understanding the constituents of our daily bread has simply not reached the ‘bit round the edges’ of our fine nation. As if there’s an assumption that just sitting on a beach in a bikini and a sheepskin coat somehow allows you to metabolise 20 times the fat and sugar you normally would fail to do by just sitting on your arse for 6 hours.

Lunch is fish’n’chips. Its compulsory. By law. We had it. Good but not great. Heavy on grease and batter. Or ‘perfect’ as its known nationally. Then you get an ice cream. To shut the fucking kids up for 20 minutes. Followed by cream tea. Well, you’re in Dairy Country, you’d be a Dairy C-, er… misser out, not to enjoy it. Then Burger and chips for supper. The whole 5-a-day thing is extended at the seaside to include hops. So five pints a day sorts that out then.

We left Lyme Regis whilst we still had one artery between us that wasn’t clogged up and drove down to Cornwall. Which is beautiful, amazing, fabulously interesting and filled with good food. And all of the above.

This was tuesday; it wasn’t planned like this, but kind of evolved around certain things.

8.30. Swim in the pool. Mel’s a swimmer. Like a fish. Gills. Swims every day in the gym so bit of a busman’s holiday for her but I don’t normally (read: ‘ever!!!’) join her. I’m a drowner by nature. But I did what was necessary.

9.00 Breakfast. Don’t ask. Show me a buffet and I’ll show you a pig. Then eat it.

10.00 Tried to find the ‘coastal walk’ along little forest paths. Failed fucking miserably, walking about 6 miles in the process. Knackered. Stopped for ice creams.

1.30 Set off from our base in St Austell for St Michael’s Mount. 60 miles away. Weather had improved so top down on the car and off we speed. St M’s M is brilliant and wonderful and just google it and you can see why. Involves a lot of (more) walking and some light climbing. All for a poxy 11th Century castle on an offshore island that’s accessible by a causeway only at low tide.

5.00 Tea and snack/late lunch on the beach.

6.00 Arrive at Land’s End. Has to be done. Its like where the land, kind’a, ends. And the sea begins. Almost like any beach in the world but in a much more profound way.

7.00 Weather still totally amazing, top still down on the car as we arrive at the Minnack theatre. Built like a Greek amphitheatre, but on a cliff right at the sea. The Tempest. Shakespeare, ya nob. And fantastic Cornish Pasties. Unhealthiest food you can buy. Unless you’re in Lyme Regis.

12.00 Arrived back at hotel. Traffic coming back light to non-existent. Cornwall closes at 9.

So we did geography, history, English, Drama, maths (working out the mileage) and Physical Education. All in one day.

Come to England for your vacation. Then you’ll need a holiday.

And don’t ask me where my blog went yesterday. Or I’ll eat you.

A xxxx