Memories of the first and last time I was in Cornwall

In North Cornwall cottages squeeze downhill into
tiny coves seperated by high grass topped cliffs.
To walk from one to another is steep going and
extremely hard on your ankles. Your blustered
dangerously close to a sheer drop.
Seagulls spin below you and your salty hair whips
painfully across your face.
But born to it or not, Cornwall has something free
and wild and wind battered, that sucks you in and
draws you back, time after time.

I was ten years old. It was the first time I had
been to Cornwall.
My Dad had met a farmer through his work. Farmer
Williams invited us to stay on his farm for the
summer holidays. Ofcourse my dad said yes.
When we arrived I was very nerves and shy about
staying with people I had never met before. But
Mrs Williams was so welcoming, it did not take me
long to settle. She was a plump lady, with big red
rosy cheeks, who wore her hair up in a bun.
I learnt while I was there, that she loved to bake.
In the kitchen the big wooden table, would be
heaving under the weight of different cakes, like
lardy cake, jam tarts, fruit cake, scones, sponge
cake with home made jam, and the obvious cornish
pasties, which she made herself. This she made
every day.

They had three children. There was Sue, she was a
about my age, she was a bit of a tom boy. Then
there was karen the second youngest, who tagged
along everywhere with her older sister. Then there
was Danny the youngest, who loved nothing more than
helping his dad out on the farm.

Farmer Williams would have us children up at 6 a.m.
every morning, saying it was the best part of the
day. We would do small chores around the farm, like
feeding the chickens and collecting the eggs,
helping to clean out the cow shed. I even learnt to
milk a cow. The pigs were my favourite animals, I
love to watch their antics, like when we fed them,
their little snouts would go up as they smelt the
air and squealed. I was surprised to find out how
clean they actually were, compared to some of the
other animals. Then there was the family dog, a
labrador called Sandy. She loved being around the
children and I loved to give her cuddles.
Sometimes when we got up, Mrs Williams would give
us each a basket to collect some mushrooms from the
fields, to have with our breakfast. We would run off across the open fields, baskets at the ready.
We would then have a competition to see who could
collect the most. Danny always seemed to win.

Then there were times when we would all jump in the
car and mum and dad would take us to this muddy
place that I cannot remember the name of. But we
would wade down into the squishy mud and pick out
the hugest, juiciest cockles you have ever seen.

Then there was the beach. They were some of the
best times ever. We would all pile into the car,
in the boot would be bodyboards, picnic bags,
flasks of hot coffee and bottles of juice.
The beach was only about twenty minutes drive from
the farm. I loved it when you could just get a
glimpse of the sea on the horizon, then you could
smell the sea air.
We always went to the same beach, Godrevy beach.
There is a lighthouse there and I found out years
later, that it was built on a small island in 1858.
The lighthouse keepers went to work via a chair
suspended over the sea on a wire rope.
I also remember that they based the childrens
programme 'Fraggle Rock,' on Godrevy lighthouse.

Anyway when we reached the car park, we would all
pile out of the car, each carrying our bodyboard
and a bag. Then we would make our way along the
stony path. There were sand dunes on either side
of the path with long grasses that waved in the
breeze. Then would come the steep walk down to the
beach. Once down, we would charge off to find a
spot to sit, we usually always picked a spot under
the rock cliffs. The first thing we would do, is
change into our costumes, then charge down into the
sea with our bodyboards, there was nothing better
than catching a wave, it was so invigorating.
When we had enough, we would run back up the beach,
towel ourselves off, get out of our wet costumes
and lay them on the rocks to dry. Once we were in
dry clothes, we would sit and have something to eat
and drink. Then came the real fun of exploring the
rock pools and caves.

The first time I went to Godrevy beach, Danny,
Karen and Sue took me to a place up in the rocks,
that only the locals knew about. It was called
'Devils Pool.' It was quite a scary place to climb
for a ten year old. But once there, it was like a
very deep canyon in the rocks that was filled in
with water. Danny was very brave I thought, because
he swam in it. But I was to scared I might drown.
Sue, Karen and myself would usually sit on the
rocks with our feet dangling in the water watching
him.

At the end of the day, we would pack everything up
and walk back up to the car, tired, windswept, but
lovely and brown, with sand in our hair and clothes.
Flip, flop, flip, flop, we all finally made it to
the car. My dad always made us get the sand off our
feet, before we could get in the car. I hated the
way it stuck between my toes. Then it was the drive
home, we would have the windows down, breathing in
the sea air. Very tired, but still managing to sing. "If you ever get to heaven in a baked bean
tin." It was a funny song we used to sing.

When we got back to the farm, Mrs Williams would
ask us if we had a good time. We would all shout
at the same time 'yeah.' Then we would sit down to
even more food.
We were so tired, we would have a bath, then we
would play snakes and ladders, or ludo before
going to bed.

I sit here now nursing my knee and looking out to
sea. All those memories come flooding back to me.
The granite cottages, methodist chapels are awash
with sea spray, their window frames rotted and
peeling from the salt. A few trees battered by the
wind lean towards the relative safety of inland.
Then I look again at my knee, thinking I was very
lucky, but feeling a bit like those trees slightly
battered by the wind, but glad to be alive.