The last part of our journey begins – the drive to Truro to clean, pack and winter the motorhome. We bid a fond farewell to Padstow which is looking particularly lovely this morning.
I always approach this part of our trip with trepidation. The list of things to do seems to get longer each year, and I can’t leave satisfied unless every inch of the motorhome is scrubbed spotless inside and out. Last year I added the task of emptying all the cupboards, packing everything into boxes, yet another task to the list, but at least it forces a reassessment of everything we keep on the road. I’ve long since accepted that a touch of obsessive cleaning is part of my character. It’s easier to give in than fight it. It can be quite therapeutic actually, when one is feeling particularly stressed.
In the sea of rain that was the last week, we’ve struck a remarkably clear day for our arrival in Truro.
It takes some discipline to focus on the tasks at hand when there’s a mischievous voice whispering for you to go any play in the Cornish wilderness. And so, in the land of endless beaches, soft green meadows and the siren call of one fishing village after the other, we roll our sleeves up and start. Chris, bolstered by perhaps the only clear day we’re likely to get before we leave, tackles the exterior, leaving me indoors knee deep in the jobs ahead.
We don’t stop until dinner, most pleased with our progress. We had expected to lose today to travel and a bit of faffing around and so are much further along than planned.