Cornwall. The very shape
of it has often reminded me of the arch of a foot, gently dipping a toe into
the water. The way most of us do before gingerly wading on in, taking that deep
breath and sinking down as the cold of the ocean forces all the breath from
your body before you lie back and feel the water lapping over you, cooling you
in the heat of the summer sun and making everything right with the world
And it looks as it is,
that is how I have spent every summer here for the last couple of decades, a
little bit of ritual yelping before the bliss hits. And it is bliss - turquoise
water, golden sands and beating sun without any need for a passport or airport
queues.
As you lie back in the sea
you can’t help but examine the cliffs around, and here you can see engine
houses; the iconic buildings of Cornwall, standing tall across the county, a
reminder of its industrial past, of mining tin and copper, and Poldark.
Although, I’ve lived here
for more than twenty-five years and I’ve yet to see a shirtless mine owner
cantering across a hilltop, hair flowing behind him in the wind.
Snaggle-toothed fishermen though with buckets of mackerel and a quick sense of
humour abound.
And I’m quite happy about
that, how would anyone get any work done with Ross Poldark trotting about the
place? This way I can get my word count done and if I’m lucky pick up a bargain
on fresh fish - straight out that sea that very day - when I’m in the pub later
and roaring with laughter.
For those of you vaguely disappointed
about Ross, you can breathe a sigh of relief, for alongside the fishermen are
the surfers. Wandering around the beaches with the best breaks, wetsuit clad
and with sun-bleached hair, in and out of the water from dawn to dusk
regardless of the season. And believe me when I say when it comes to surfing
then you don’t mess with the etiquette, no matter who you are. I’ve heard many
a tale of celebrities on holiday getting very short shrift if they dare drop in
on someone else’s wave. Cornwall very much judges you on how you behave not who
you are and I love it for that.
For the non-surfing,
slightly less active amongst us (that’s me) there’s long lazy nights and beach
barbecues. I’ve made lifelong
friendships by being a beach regular and there is nothing better
than the smell of a barbecue mingled with the tang of sea and salt in the air.
Most people tip out their handbags and find lipstick and the odd scrunched up
tissue, somehow mine is piles of sand and dried seaweed and I couldn’t be
happier.
Cornwall may be surrounded
by the sea but there is so much more to it than just that. Inland is as
beautiful, dotted with farms and moorland. Neolithic monuments cover Cornwall
from Bodmin Moor down to the far west, menhirs and stone circles scattered
about as if dropped by ancient Gods and forgotten. The Hurlers however are deliberate, stone circles made from
men who were petrified for daring to play games on a Sunday. But it’s not just
men turned to stone that make the legends here, we also have King Arthur’s
spirit flitting around the county in bird form - alive still in the Cornish
Chough, magical wells stocked with healing water, and mischievous underground sprites
that don’t like it if you whistle.
In high season Cornwall picks
up the pace with Regattas and Feast weeks, rammed full of carnival parades, gig
rowing, fireworks, and Cornish cider. Inland there are steam fairs with parades
of steam tractors, traditional fairground rides and my favourite, the digger
dancing. This is a joy to witness; great big clunky tractors and farm machinery
doing synchronised dance moves often on only two out of four wheels. Although
even with all this activity, Cornwall never ditches its laid-back vibe -
everything is done ‘dreckly’ which, trust me, is a slower version of mañana.
It’s no surprise that so
many books and films are set in and around Cornwall, this truly is a place with
its very own hint of magic, both charmed and charming. How can I not set my
books in this most beautiful of counties? It’s a place where anything can
happen, and frequently does.
Thank you Kitty for this lovely look at Cornwall. I can't wait to read your new book given I love stories set in Cornwall and schools.
Rosy Winter is definitely not looking for love
Following heartbreak, Rosy has rebuilt her life in the beautiful Cornish village of Penmenna. Now, headmistress of the local school, she is living by The Rule: no dating anyone in the village. Easy right? But Rosy Winter has a new neighbour, handsome gardener Matt.
In Penmenna for his new gardening TV show, this guy next door will do everything he can to persuade her to break her rule and win her heart. Meanwhile, Penmenna Village School is threatened with closure and it’s up to Rosy to rally the local community to #SaveOurSchool. Can she bring her worlds together and accept help from the most unlikely of sources? One thing’s for sure… she won’t be giving up without a fight.
This heartwarming romance is perfect for fans of Tilly Tennant, Holly Martin and A. L. Michael.
Author bio:
Kitty
Wilson has lived in Cornwall for the last twenty-five years having been dragged
there, against her will, as a stroppy teen. She is now remarkably grateful to
her parents for their foresight and wisdom – and that her own children aren’t
as hideous. She spends most of her time welded to the keyboard or hiding out at
the beach and has a penchant for very loud music, equally loud dresses and
romantic heroines who speak their mind.
