The time has come, as it does each journey, to start the long trek towards the ferry crossing to France. Not before a birthday celebration for Himself, of course. With a lunch reservation at Spring in Somerset House, London will be our main stopover between now and the ferry.
We make a final stop in Truro, at the new Cornish Food Store, showcasing Cornish produce and artisanal producers. It’s a fabulously good offering with seafood, dairy, meat, fruit and vegetables, dry goods, baked goods, even ready made meals and local gin. We leave with wallets considerably lightened.
Finally then, with Squiz ensconced at our bow, we haul the motorhome into action.
We love Cornwall but its drawback is how far away it is from Heathrow and then the ferry services to Europe. By the time we drive down to pick up the motorhome, cross back to Europe, then drive back to store the motorhome, in any given trip we usually cross the widest part of England three times.
In an effort to reduce this trek, helpfully assisted by years of nagging on my part, Himself has been investigating alternative storage options. Our first stop is at one of these, a Devon site set in lush farmland. It’s an excellent, well run site with purpose built secure undercover storage, run by a fifth generation farmer as an alternative business model after falling victim to the UK’s infamous foot and mouth outbreak. Even though it’s more isolated than Truro, there would be significant advantages to being closer in. We put our names down for the wait list, and now we wait.
I’ll miss Truro though, if we leave. It’s become a very familiar second home I’ve come to love. There’s a lot to think about as we drive through Devon’s pretty hedgerowed fields.
Now the roads in England are pretty good in the main, but when they fail, they fail rather spectacularly. Such is the case today, where the trip to Stourhead, which should have taken a couple of hours, wipes out the whole afternoon. An accident here, a slow down there, complete gridlock elsewhere. As a result we arrive in Stourhead hours later than planned, far too late to tour the grounds.
We’re both tired and a little grumpy, but luckily there’s all that lovely Cornish produce for dinner. It goes a long way to lift our mood and there’s always tomorrow.
Oh and I forgot to mention the trio of furry sightings of yesterday: the little grey squirrel who greeted us on arrival at Glendurgan Gardens, the very fancy pheasant picking his way across a field and these guys, alpacas, wondering how they came to be in Cornwall, so far from home.