I’m cheating with this again. Forgive me but it’s probably going to save hours of your time, not to mention exasperation over what we’ll call my ‘proficiency’ at tangents.
I wanted to write you a whole, unapologetic and gushing love letter about my intense feelings for Fowey after my first visit last month. But I’ll just tell you through some phone pictures of varying quality and size instead. With a few words, first, because I just can’t help myself.
Our reason for descending on Fowey was a wedding (not ours), but we decided to extend the trip for a few extra days because Cornwall is a damn long way from just about everywhere, not least Southern Spain where we flew in from after a fleeting three days in the sun with Mrs Grieves, brothers Grieves and Co. It was entirely worth it, not only for the beautiful nuptials, not only for the beautiful experiences I will share with you shortly in pictorial form, but the revelation of Ian’s hair becoming something of a local celebrity in its own right, with its reputation preceding every restaurant and shop we visited in the town, which I was wholly amused by and was reason in itself to hang around (although we never did find out if it made it into the Fowey newsletter, alas).
Ian had previously visited a number of times but I was a Cornwall virgin, having only been as far as neighbouring Devon for many a happy childhood holiday in a static caravan, falling in love with a Take That tribute band who on reflection were not quite the dreamboats my nine-year-old self was quite sure she was beholding. Every year I waved goodbye to our tin-can home on wheels with a heavy yet full heart, having had the week of my life and ultimately concluding that Haven Holidays were entirely on a par with Disney World. I’d say that worked out really well for my parents but less well for me who never made it to Disney World because I was non the wiser, having been wholly entertained by repeated plays of Agadoo, pouring different coloured sands into a glass bottle to make pretty patterns and experiencing the exotic taste of Apple Tango for the first time.
Hashtag memories.
Clever, clever parents.
Oh, hang on. I had been to Cornwall before. There’s that one New Year’s I spent in Newquay dressed as Pocahontas, but that’s not something we need to dwell right now because I saw many, many sights without seeing any of Cornwall whatsoever and my Mum is probably reading this.
OH EM GEE FOWEY YOU ARE A BABE. I really did not expect to fall in love, having been spoilt for many years by family roots in the glorious Yorkshire Dales but fall I did, and hard. Which is quite an achievement when away on a trip with your boyfriend, Fowey you dazzling and charming sorcerer you.
Living in a city where everything is expected, everyone is entitled, and there is such a demand for everything RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND OR A PLAGUE O’ BOTH YOUR HOUSES!, being able to stand still in a place where the beauty and simplicity of the thing is exactly what keeps things going was incredible tonic for the soul.
So with that, let me tell you a love story… and yes there are far more than 10 pictures. But ‘Happiness 19’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘Jen’, and also that’s just the excess of love, ain’t it?
1. Resisting the urge to break into Morning Has Broken upon looking out of the window each day. Thanks to The Galleon Inn for the bed and thus, the dawn view.
2. Boats! So many bobby little boats happily minding their own business!
3. The happy, B E A U T I F U L couple channeling their inner 50s movie star.
4. And doing so in the car to end all wedding cars.
5. Team…
6. …Team Drunk. Thanks to The Fowey Hotel for ALL THE GIN.
7. Bride + Boy + Matching Sunnies which they claim was unintentional but they look just a little bit too happy about it don’tcha think?
8. Golitha Falls – which the locals hadn’t even heard of but you must seek out because it’s STUNNING.
9. So stunning that we decided to stay forever.
10. Getting soaked in the rain and giving precisely no f**ks.
11. Going on ‘intrepid’ adventures and being wholly rewarded by nature for doing so.
12. Rock climbing. This is where I obviously slipped straight on my arse, and again gave precisely no f**ks.
13. Scenes for days.
14. And days.
15. Wearing matching Lycra ‘cos you just don’t care (and it’s all you packed). Also – HIS HAIR IS BIGGER THAN MY HEAD.
16. A wall of pork in a cosy pub, a pack of cards and alllll the red wine. (This was Ian’s dinner, I demolished the best fish pie I’d ever eaten long before I thought to take a photo). Well done, The Ship Inn.
17. Not having to choose between the lobster and the steak because you’re the freaking Queen for a week AND WHAT. Thanks to Sam’s for this gluttony.
18. Padstow, aka All Hail Rick Stein (Fowey still won for me).
19. The discovery of an ACTUAL place called Minions and not knowing what to do with yourself for the photo because you’re so excited, the result of which is to end up looking like you’re just really desperate for a wee.
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