Another day, another task or two ticked off the list. This morning a very nice man pops in to steam clean our carpets.
And what a glorious job he does of it. They look better than when we bought the motorhome. I’ll spare you the details of many active “discussions” I’ve had with Himself about the utterly poxy vacuum cleaner he bought at the start of our travels. It’s about as effective as a feather duster. Possibly less so. Our nice steam cleaning man agrees. Validation at last!
There’s a wee problem of my own making posing a new challenge. I’ve somehow managed to stretch out the ligaments in an ankle. Probably a combination of hypermobility in the joint and sitting cross legged at some point, possibly after the flight when there might have been a touch of swelling about. Much ouch: rest is called for. I do manage a hobble out for lunch in the museum cafe, a hop through the local market and to return the hire car, but otherwise it’s paws up and books at the ready. I’ve churned through three so far, and it’s only day 4. As much as I love a real book in hand, thank goodness for Google books when traveling.
Himself makes himself (see what I did there?😊) indispensable, making a store of bolognese sauce for the freezer in between mixing the odd drink (purely for pain control/medicinal purposes, of course) and organising dinner.
This ankle had better right itself soon. I’m not best pleased with body parts that refuse to play their scheduled part. Patient, in every sense of the word, I’m not.
Yes! The sun is out! It’s come as a bit of a surprise, how cool English spring can be, even this late in the season. Not that I’m complaining mind, I’m not a fan of the heat, but I didn’t quite anticipate the cool weather wardrobe needed. My summer skirts lie in wait, smirking at my underestimation.
I’m raring to go, but Himself recites dire warnings about what happens to girls who don’t rest ouchy ankles. Surely a compromise can be reached?
In end we agree to dispense with the last of the motorhome chores first: blisteringly expensive new tyres for the front. Don’t ask me how he maneuvered into that space. And without missing a beat either. Drove straight in! Fearless, Himself is. Fearless.
It’s then off to the mouth of the Helford river through an area designated for its natural beauty,
to the historic Glendurgan Garden, established by the Fox family in 1823. Their namesake guards the gate.
Unlike many other neatly set out National Trust gardens, this one runs through a valley to the edge of the village of Durgan which is set on the river bank. So set, its wooded slopes protect from winds and the garden further benefits from a temperate climate thanks to the Gulf Stream.
In addition native plantings, there are also exotic plantings from Bhutan, New Zealand and even Asia. My favourite though is the ancient tulip tree, planted in 1830,
followed very closely by the spectacular maze in the heart of the valley. The maze was started in 1833.
The garden boasts some lovely cobblestone work, with possibly the fanciest spoon drains I’ve seen.
We walk down into Durgan, to the water’s edge,
down one side of the valley then up the other. I’d envisaged a gentle stroll but this is a steep climb down then back up again. No doubt it’s doing my ankle good. It certainly wouldn’t do me any good to whine, seeing as I insisted we “do something”.
It’s very peaceful here, surrounded by flowers and greenery, happily lost in time.