Three go mad in Cornwall

Hot sunny morning, cooler afternoon. There was lots of walking and window shopping then breakfast, Then off to Tintagel to climb all the steps in the world and look at small piles of stones. And some sheep. And eavesdrop on some touring French school kids (amusingly TallGirl dismissed them straight away: "they're from the North" <eye roll>. She's clearly gone native. You should hear her on French Canadians.... Must remember to have another chat with her about, you know, all that. But I suppose judgementalism is strong in teenagers. I'm sure the 13 year old SooB said very sweeping things about Southerners and now some of my best friends, etc etc.)

So, Tintagel was great, and I'm really glad we went, but they really want to have a think about installing a few stairlifts.

Some shopping, then off out of town on what turned out to be the wrong road. Today we were on a schedule but, on a road barely wider than the car, turning round was not an option so I took the holiday option of letting the road set our schedule (a stretch for a planning obsessive like me). This worked out rather well as we stumbled upon Boscastle, where a stroll nicely tugged CarbBoy out of a sulky fit. (I think the ice cream helped...) Then, resisting the tug of Bude (whichever road we tried seemed to head there) we turned south to find the beach - Polzeath - where I spent two glorious weeks in 1977. It was the only exotic holiday of my childhood - ie further than the Lakes or Yorkshire - and as such looms large in family mythology.

When I told Mam we were going there she warned me to make sure neither of the kids were stuck on a sandbank (me, aged 7, with my brother and sister having to run for my Dad to wade across and rescue me from the incoming tide) and my Dad mainly remembers that "one of you girls was really poorly" (my sister had heatstroke and was so hysterical one night that they had to call out a doctor. In the bunk above her I slept through it all. I'm dead caring really...)

So today we ignored the grey skies and paddled, watched the crazy surfers, buried ourselves in sand and collected heaps of interesting stones and shells. And teenage (or preteen) angst slipped away as the kids remembered what fun the beach brings.

Next off to our apartment for the next few days - down roads not built for anything wider than a horse, to a smallholding with a horse, sheep, ducks and chickens. Wonderful. TallGirl has already been out to feed the horse with the daughter of the house and tomorrow morning may bring egg collecting (and, hopefully, eating!)

We did go out tonight for a meal, but the kids looked so exhausted that we bought food in the Co-op to cook here instead. Two Men in Black movies, an intermittent FaceTime with Mr B and now for me the joy of normal telly and a Paul Weller concert that I heard a lot about on the radio today. Still great.

This morning, wandering aimlessly in Tintagel, TallGirl hugged me "this holiday is brilliant". Happy times, even despite the Mr B sized hole in our day.