Goodbye to all that

The poor, battered holiday came to an end all too soon so we added an extra night in St Ives as an epilogue. And we stayed in a hotel! That's how posh we are! They make your breakfast and everything. And, when you ask them if they know whether the Beach Cafe at Porthgwidden is open in the evenings, they ring up and make a reservation for you. It was like living in a P G Wodehouse book. It was actually in Carbys Bay outside St Ives so we had a choice of walking along the Coast Path and letting the train take the strain. We tried both.

Apart from the day when we drove back to Cornwall in the middle, yesterday was the first day without a run. My legs were suspicious - expecting a trick.

Which brings us the traditional holiday stats:
Pasties 3 (a record low -poor, NickMog, poor)
Fish and Chips 1 (still haven't tried the Rick Stein fish and chip shop in Falmouth and only avoided an ignominious duck by getting Jeeves to book me a table at the Porthgwidden Cafe yesterday)
Units of Alcohol - let's gloss over that one
Miles run 66.5 (which, frankly, steps firmly over the line into obsessive behaviour)
Records set -None
Records Bought - one (see what I did there? I found a mono copy of Beatles For Sale for sale)