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
By Sunday we were a full three days into December and I still hadn’t sung a single Christmas caroll, which didn’t seem right. I’m not a religious person by any means, but hot damn I love the merriment. The Christmas tree festival at Princess Pavilion was starting with a big switch-on, a carol concert, and –… Read More Weird moments from the Christmas carol concert
Cornwall is full of artists, and a lot of them are concentrated in St Ives. There’s a lot of, like, heritage and stuff. I swear, I went through galleries and galleries worth of work today, and while I’m not clear on exactly what drew lots of artists there in the first place, that’s just the… Read More That time I had an epiphany in the Tate St Ives
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
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
The hill doesn’t last too long before it flattens out, but by the time I get to the top I’m already sweating like a pig badass athlete. I’ve made the wrong clothing choice. The rain has all but stopped, the sun is fully out, and the trousers are making me feel like something you boil in the bag. I am at a metaphorical and, coincidentally, literal crossroads.
In a split second I make a choice, and pull into the car park of the doctors. I happen to know that there’s a little space behind the building where I occasionally leave my bike when I have to go in. I hop off, quick as a flash, and whip down my waterproofs.… Read More Public trouser removal
Every year, after the summer holidays are over but before the leaves have even changed colour, the nation’s pensioners get on coaches with their friends and head to low-to-mid priced hotels throughout the countryside. They eat Christmas dinner, snack on mince pies, and enjoy a “traditional festive atmosphere”, which I assume means ‘enough wine to run a small pub for a night’.… Read More Nans on party buses