I’ve just got back from a very foggy and wet week in Cornwall. It was disappointing because a) Cornwall looks stunning when it’s sunny b) We couldn’t see anything because the fog was so bad and c) I do not enjoy holidays that involve wearing a cagoule. In desperation one day, we went to the nearest National Trust property, Trengwainton, figuring that it would have a nice cafe at the very least. It’s filled with tender, exotic plants but we only managed to see the veg garden, where Christian enquired as to why my veg patch is not planted in straight lines like this one. A very good point – my veg planting has been very haphazard this year. By that time it was raining horizontally, so we retreated to the heaving cafe and agreed that we may as well call it a day and head back to our holiday cottage.
On the way back, we stopped off at an ancient monument looming eerily out of the fog, like a mini Stonehenge. We clambered over a dry stone wall to have a look at it, and sheltered under it for a while with a bemused-looking Swiss couple and their dog. We all looked sympathetically at each other before going our separate ways.