We camped at Bay View Farm.
It did exactly what it said on the can. The only thing between our tent and the sea was a paddock with two Shire Horses clopping placidly about.
My Granddad bred Shire horses and our family name means horse or horseman in Cornish. The presence of the horses was comforting.
In the morning, I was awoken by wild geese – I don’t mean that they’d broken into our tent - but I could hear their calls from two fields away.
Why on earth then did we leave this rural idyll and walk across the cliffs to the nearby town of Looe?
Because Looe is a cultural centre for Cornish bad behaviour of the historical type.
Think pirates and smugglers. (Professions with which my family has absolutely no connection, of course!)
Neither Carenza nor I had been there before and we were impressed by the prettiness of the place, but as we stepped onto the main street we were nearly trampled by the crowds.
We didn’t see any pirates or smugglers, but we did see a family who were so desperate to gobble their pasties that instead of walking 200 yards to the sea front, they had merely sat down on the narrow pavement just outside the bakers and tucked in right there.
High Season in Cornwall does strange things to people.
|Despite its name, Looe was in some ways disappointing.|