Saturday, 27 August 2011

Cornwall is weird

Cornwall was weird.  Let’s be honest, Cornwall is always weird.  But when you’re offered two nights bed, breakfast and dinner completely free at a nice hotel, you don’t say, ‘No thank-you, because Cornwall’s weird,’ do you?  No.  You don’t.

See, all I did was buy a couple of fancy-dan raffle tickets and everybody knows nobody ever wins that kind of raffle, do they?  And, to be honest, most of the prizes would have been ghastly. I didn’t want tennis lessons; I really didn’t want a piece of reproduction furniture and, while the fortnight in the Florida penthouse would have been lovely, I couldn’t have afforded the flights or the tip for the housekeeper.  No, the weekend at the Mullion Cove Hotel was the badger – and, by heck, I won it.  Only problem?  I seemed to be the only one excited about the break.
‘Do we have to go?’ said James, lounging round in pyjamas five minutes from set-off time.  ‘I mean…it’s not Turkey, is it?’ Spoilt brat.
‘It’s not exactly the best timing,’ said Adrian, typing frantically with one hand while texting with the other.
‘Oh for pity’s sake,’ said I.  Okay, I confess, I didn't say that: I shouted a bit. Alright, a lot. Enough to hurt my throat chakra.
Having grumbled and whinged all the way to Oakhampton, they perked up a little at the prospect of lunch from Waitrose, eaten perched on their knees in the car, in the pouring rain in the car park (my family is so weird).  And then someone stupidly said, 'Wow the SP hasn't been sick.' So of course he immediately threw up all over James and the hold-all.  And, because even angels have a bad side, it stank of crap because...yeah...  Anyhow...
Even the guys had to admit, when we finally pitched up at Mullion, that it really is the most divine spot.  Perched right up on a cliff with that Agatha Christie vibe.  ‘Someone’s going to be murdered,’ said James. ‘I’m scared.’ 
‘Oh don’t be ridiculous,’ said Adrian, unpacking his laptop and installing himself at a table by the window next to a bowl of crisps and starting to type.  ‘Damnit. No mobile signal.’
‘Look, there is a pool! Let’s go for a swim!’ (Guess who?) Cue snort of derision from James.  Adrian opened his mouth but I forestalled him.  ‘I know.  Deadlines.’
‘No. Actually I was going to say why don’t we walk along the cliff path and into the village?’
So we did and Mullion was weird and full of exceedingly scary scarecrows and lots of signs saying No Dogs Allowed.  But the pub had a beer festival on so we sat and shivered outside (No Dogs Allowed) and it all reminded me too much of my childhood so I offered to walk the SP back to the hotel so the two of them could go inside and keep warm. 

And the next day I needed to talk to a man about ancient Egypt and reincarnation (as you do) and Adrian needed to check out this real ale pub (as he does) so we all met up there and Chris (ancient Egypt man) and I sat out in the garden while James and Adrian played pool inside and he (Chris) talked about rodz and crystals and tyramids and pyramids and alchemy and wrestling with beasts; and about Proteus and power lines and dimensions and entities and nodes. Until I was shivering with cold (because I don’t have the power over radiation to warm myself up, stupid numpty that I am) and James started coming out with increasing regularity wearing that ‘Do you have to talk ANY more look of plaintive pleading on his face which also reminded me of my childhood). So I said, 'We should go' and Adrian said, 'Let's have another, eh?' and Chris was trying to avoid some rum do in Sennen, so we stayed a bit longer before dropping him off in Penzance and going back to the hotel to play chess before bed
And I dreamed I was in the sea and every wave took me further and further away from the shore (but I didn’t mind, or I didn’t care) and then I woke with a start because James was shouting in his sleep. ‘What about the contracts? What about THE contract?’ 

‘I don’t know, love,’ I said.  But he didn’t hear.  So I lay awake in the dark listening to the waves slap the rocks below. And I didn't feel safe.  And then, just as I’d finally drifted off  to sleep, the fire alarm went off.  3am and everyone was wandering around in dressing gowns and slippers, just like an Agatha Christie novel and by this point I really did expect someone to cry, ‘Murder!’ 
But the only thing murdered was sleep. And now I am home alone (which is what I needed, what I wanted) yet I feel so unbearably sad, just so so fecking sad.  Weird.  Just like Cornwall.

18 comments:

Milla said...

Nah! Cornwall's not weird, unless .... Ker-boom you're there!! Heh heh. And, hey, for someone who used to denounce sentences beginning with And ... you've sure as anything turned round. Which is most pleasing. But that dog. Ewww. Puke ... & crap ... I'm seeing clogged in zips. Please say I'm wrong.

Tattie Weasle said...

Always thought it was Devon that was weird, probably because I went to college there. Feel for you re the dog sick, had that today on my bed in the middle of a thunderstorm weird huh? Or maybe it's just Suffolk...

Midlife Singlemum said...

Totally agree. I've always thought Cornwall was haunted. Ever since my parents dragged me there for the week of half-term just before my o-levels. It rained all week and I was supposed to be revising. Instead I found an old black and white tv in a depressing and shabby lounge (think old age home) and watched something important. What did happen in May/June 1979? I forget now but I was so pissed about possibly missing it at the time.

Frances said...

Jane, having read Milla's comment, I am so wary of going along with my comment.

Yet. Here goes. I have "won" an unanticipated weekend off here, and the thanks to to Hurricane Irene. NYC is shut down, and it provides us all with many reasons to admire our City and its officials and systems that keep us going, except when we really should not be going anywhere.

We not "wait until the midnight hour" to find out just how much drama Irene is sending us. Lots of tourists in town this weekend cannot fly out of closed airports, and will have a vacation to talk about for years.

I would love to visit Cornwall. I would love to get on a plane across the Atlantic, and hope that my traveling ways might be able to resume by 2012.

Don't mean this comment-edging-into-a-moan to say other than I am longing for a holiday...haven't had one in about eight years. Yet, count my blessings, and amongst them is reading your posts, Jane.

Do I understand that SP goes on holiday, but ASBO J stays home?

Jeepers, I have really filled up this box. xo

Nora said...

Maybe you didn't quite take advantage of the fact that you were in Cornwall. You should have been more of a tourist and seen the sights instead of talking about pyramids in the cold. Now it sounds like the weekend wasn't a success and that's why you're so sad. Or not? You're a sensitive soul.

Exmoorjane said...

Milla: Yeah....you're right. And yeah, clogged in zips. :(

Tattie: Devon is also weird. :)

MSM: Cornwall has a very strong energy...it's a love/hate thing with me. Your old age home sounds depressing to the extreme... Nope, no memory of May/June 1979...

Frances: watching the weather with concern for you and everyone on the East Coast...how I'd love you to come this way on holiday.. so much. Asbo goes to kennels...happier for everyone. :)

Nora: Ah, generally you'd be right but, see, I know the Lizard well and have done the tourist stuff before...and I wanted to talk about pyramids. So much. Ignore me...am just in a weird mood, I guess.

Rob-bear said...

Well, Cornwall has a lot of Celtic "flavour" from its past. Maybe that's what you're sensing. A lot of people find Celts, and their offspring, kinda weird.

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Ashen said...

Hmm - with a resisting family the weird makes sense anywhere, and having your pet rejected tops it. Enjoy your holiday at home :)
And thanks for liking the monologues around the ego on my site, a poetic diversion from a project in the making.

Shalini Boland said...

Such a a weird coincidence - I went to Boscastle in Cornwall and the fire alarm went off at 2 in the morning. But this was back in the days when I smoked and we unscrewed the fire alarm to have a sneaky ciggy in the room - oops. Lots of pissed off couples wandering around in pjs and pants. We got kicked out. Thanks for the memories :)

Esther Montgomery said...

Oh! I would have enjoyed it so much more than you! Why didn't you send ME the tickets?

Esther

MUMMY'S LITTLE MONKEY (@Jax2000) said...

You think Cornwall is weird? Have you ever been to Key West?? The locals call it Key Weird. And they'd be right...

Ma.Ste. said...

*pat-pat-pat* Good bloggie... :o)

Plot Tracer said...

Yup - I always look forward to going "home" to Northern Ireland - I was brought up there. But the experience always makes me feel sad and glad to be back in my own bed.

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Ma.Ste. said...

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Ivy said...

Oh dear, and there was me who thought I was the only person on this planet thinking Cornwall was weird (weird but nice with unpredictable weather) Hope you are happier now . Just a question by the side: have you re-homed Asbo? He seems to have vanished from your blogs.

Trish @ Mum's Gone To ... said...

I love this: will have to come back for more.
Linda mentioned this post in her Have a Lovely Time round-up so I popped over.
We once had a fire alarm at three in the morning in Blackpool: husband was so organised he was dressed and carrying car keys by the time we all shuffled out into the car park.