Cornwall - James' 40th

Last month I went to Cornwall for James' 40th. James is an old friend who I first met in Prague when we were teaching English at the jazykova skola in Budejovicka, Praha 4. Over the years we and a load of others cooked and partied, played football and non-stopped a lot and shared quite a few riotous adventures, as befitted those times. I think it was James who tried (and almost managed) to live in all Prague's (then) 11 districts, sometimes not by choice. Most recently he's been living a slightly more settled and sedate life running a restaurant in Truro, though soon he's taking a bit of a sabbatical in the Czech Republic and going to run a pub in Havlickuv Brod!

Anyway, here's a bit of what we got up to for his birthday. It was a great weekend and about 15 friends gathered in Porthtowan on the south coast to be de-luxedly put up in state of the art eco cabins with mod cons and hot tubs. All we had to do was entertain ourselves...

.....so Rob got the party going by impressing Francesca and James with his oyster cracking skills.
And soon there was a lot of shucking and slurping going on. For some reason I haven't taken one picture of the hot tub, and for that oversight I apologise! For anyone who knows James, he loves a party and the fridge was full of great things to cook up which is exactly what we did. Thereafter there was a lot of dancing and music and merriment. I was completely boring and took myself off to bed at a really sensible hour.

The next morning there was just a slim core of us up and breakfasted and ready to hit the coast for a bit of a ramble. Ian was up for it, despite having had about 2 hours sleep, and even then he had to move cabins and sleep on someone's floor because of Dan's loud snoring.
Dan, another Prague veteran, as is Ian, was willing to be persuaded of the benefits of an 8-mile walk, and at this point looking down at the rocks below, proudly declared that he felt quite good.
And didn't we look the part - hill walkers or what?!

We continued on, sustained by water, hot Bovril, chocolate, and hard-boiled eggs (thanks to Francesca's girl guide good sense) and we trudged and chattered along a well worn and increasingly blustery path (48 hours before huge storms hit the Cornish coast). In the distance are abandoned tin mines which dot the hilly landscape all around and serve as a constant reminder of Cornwall's important geological past.

Francesca was happy to walk to Newquay but with the weather starting to turn we sort of mutiniedly agreed to take a short-cut and head inland. Gleefully finding a road, we half-heartedly tried hitching but soon realised that for the locals you are as conspicuous as dog-pee in the snow, and they do not stop nor slow down for you. Ho hum, we didn't mind and made our way back to a sleeping cabin, smugger than ever.