Tuesday 8th March
I had scrambled eggs and smoked salmon for breakfast –
excellent, but the coffee is no better than it was in the old days. Breakfast is served in the restaurant. The vibe is very different. When I worked
here as a waiter, the space was set out as a traditional dining room with table
cloths and a carpet. The Irish headwaiter wore traditional black uniform with
bow tie. We were all also dressed as
traditional hotel waiters. A middle-aged
professional waiting couple, she Polish, he Turkish, and three students comprised
the staff. The third student was a
likely lad from Manchester. He became
very friendly with the daughter of one holidaying couple. Meeting a family from
the hotel on the beach one afternoon, I asked if a holiday at St Agnes wasn’t
rather dull. The mum replied ‘It will
come to you, one day’.
We drove to Perranporth and put the car in the long
stay. After buying rolls for lunch, we
get the U1A to Newquay, believing that it is going to go via Crantock, where we
plan to resume our walk and avoid the streets of Newquay and a tricky crossing
of the river Gannel. The driver tells us
that, in fact, he doesn’t divert to Crantock.
Helpfully, he puts us down outside Morrisons and tells us to cross the
road and get the 85 back to Crantock.
It’s a 45-minute wait and it is raining.
Spirits droop. However, when we
finally hit the SWCP above Crantock beach, the rain stops and the weather
brightens. We take our first steps along
the dunes at 11.00. All is well until we
get to Holywell, when the rain starts again.
It is a sharp shower, but we spy a pub, The Gull’s Rock. Unfortunately, it is closed – like a lot of
places at this time of year. They have a
nice covered veranda. We eat our rolls
and listen to the rain drumming on the plastic roof above our heads. Once again, we are lucky. As we finish lunch, the weather clears, and
we proceed in sunshine around the army range at Penhale Camp. The place has fierce ‘keep out’ signs, but it
is deserted and looks as though it is abandoned. The perimeter fence has been trampled
down. We descend on to the sands. The
tide is out and we have a nice sunny walk to Perranporth.
To celebrate the successful conclusion of our first day we
are in search of a cup of tea. We count
ten cafes in Perranporth High Street.
It’s only 4.30 but not a single one is open. Fortunately, the Tywarnhale pub obliges. We order a (very) large pot.
We have booked a table in the bar at Driftwood Spars. I ordered chicken supreme, and Chris had
hake. Food is excellent. A good day – but there is a problem in the
morning.
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