Back From Cornwall…

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I have spent many summers on Cornish soil thanks to my parent’s sudden and inexplicable decision to decamp to the deep south from their native Cheshire, and on every visit I am always forcefully made aware of the dual nature of this special place. It is wild, rocky and verdant – in a distinctly feral way, full of a rich, accessible history, and has a definite feeling of disconnection from it’s English motherland. And yet at the same time, come the summer, it is so full of humanity that you can almost feel the spirit of the place flee to the land’s last rocky corners, driven out by plastic memorabilia and discarded chip papers: Cornwall in all it’s beauty becomes the litter capital of Albion.

Like the Genius Loci, I, too, fled inland and managed to find some breathing space in the wild places, but only just, and this has driven my decision to only visit this remarkable place out of season. And whenever I do visit I will, of course, be bringing my litter bag…

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The only way to fully appreciate the glory of Cornwall – buy your own private island.

 

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