Dear Cornwall: Oh hell snow

any time my feet don’t feel completely stable on the ground I freeze up and lose the ability to walk like a human being, which makes falling over almost inevitable (see also: paddlebarding, roller derby). Whichever way you slice it, I my dignity ends up getting bruised. Much like my bum.

So I am, frankly, dismayed to find that we’re going to be spending this weekend under a weather warning for snow and ice and all of the horrible things that come with that. If I wanted to have to deal with that I would have stayed up-country. But I say things like ‘up-country’ now, so we all know they’re never going to have me back.… Read More Dear Cornwall: Oh hell snow

The man at the cinema who can bite me

To the front of him are three rows. Anybody in possession of any level of logic knows that those three rows are going to be A, B, and C. This man decides his ticket is actually telling him to sit one row further back next to a very pretty blonde girl who immediately becomes engrossed in conversation with her friend. That is not how the alphabet works.

As the people in D 1-4 stand up to let the man out, he lifts a leg and tries to climb over his seat into the row behind (which the citizens of row D all know is row E, but we’ve made a psychic agreement not to say anything on account of the fact that we all just want this man out of our lives).… Read More The man at the cinema who can bite me

A walk on the wanky side

To top it all off, when I got to Maenporth, I had the most amazing hot chocolate, because my hands were cold and hot chocolate is always amazing when your hands are cold. Like, could I just remember to take gloves out with me when I go for walks? Sure. But does that come with whipped cream and chocolate sauce and a flake and marshmallows? Almost never. So I think my way’s better.… Read More A walk on the wanky side

Jiminy Cricket’s retribution, or The Accidental Pumpkins

By the time I got up two hours after I intended to leave the house, and left another hour after that, I was already doubting my ability to get to the Lizard in time to eat my tuna sandwich from home (because we all know I’m about to buy some unsolicited vegetables in this story, but my initial intentions were pure) and get back again before the Cornish country lanes turned into the pitch black labyrinths I now know them to be.… Read More Jiminy Cricket’s retribution, or The Accidental Pumpkins