And just for a change of pace (she said in jest) it pours. Not just any rain, but buckets of it. All the more reason to stay in bed, reading Black Rabbit Hall, my novel de jour, set in the lovely Cornwall. Well deserved, I’d say, after the last two days efforts. It’s wet and miserable, much better under a toasty doona, coffee by my side, lost in a world of family secrets and manor houses.
The last of our French cheese is devoured for lunch. I’ve become quite addicted to grilled goat’s cheese since our recent time in France – today on toasted bread, atop a bed of red, green and yellow peppers fried off in onion and garlic with a touch of balsamic. A new guilty pleasure I’m all too pleased to bring home.
Time passes a most lazy manner until the rain lifts, mid afternoon. In the interests of salvaging what’s left of the day, we consult our Cornwall book and settle on Porthleven, Great Britain’s most southerly port.
In the chill of the afternoon the harbour is still, but they must get massive seas here, judging by how narrow the harbour entrance is. It’s another where the sea can be blocked by the insertion of massive plinths between the harbour walls. Once a danger zone for shipwrecks, Porthleven is now more famous for its surf – swells of 2m are common.
Just as well there’s a nearby National Trust site, Penrose, to walk it off. Renowned as a sanctuary for birds, a walk along the banks of The Loe, Cornwalls largest fresh water lake, reward us with many sightings including white heron, cormorant and this gorgeous red robin in the walled gardens of the estate.
History and legend intertwine here. The banks of the Loe are said to be where King Arthur met his demise. I’m not sure about King Arthur; dairy cows rule today, grazing quietly by the stream.