even children get older, I'm getting older too
A few days ago I turned 26 and Z drove us to Cornwall to spend the weekend in a rented house with a lively bunch of people from Ooop Norff and a dog. The house we stayed in was as beautiful - a multi-storey detached building built on the very cliff face, with a long balcony looking out onto the harbour.
Port Isaac felt almost like an isolated pocket of time, with its narrow streets and weird location beyond the reaches of any mobile phone network. It was all very restful, and people threw me a lovely birthday party with candles and everyone laughed and I tunelessly but gaily sang the refrains of folk songs that the more musically adept played on the guitars. It was lovely, and relaxing, and it felt like the day stretched into forever.
The sea was freezing cold, and generally a bit rubbish but the ice cream was excellent and there were many splendid features of the Port Isaac experience. We were:
1. Entertained by the car parking on the beach that comes with tide timetables and warning signs.
2. Enticed and titillated by the Porno Mermaid.
3. Impressed by the lovely views.
4. Outraged by the prices of meals, and coffees and miscellaneous tourist tat.
5. Frightened by the teeny tiny teeny uphill streets through which cars could be guided with the ease of camels transiting eyes of needles.
And now I'm back in London, quietly expiring on my day off while the neighbours upstairs seem to be having sex while power drilling.
Port Isaac felt almost like an isolated pocket of time, with its narrow streets and weird location beyond the reaches of any mobile phone network. It was all very restful, and people threw me a lovely birthday party with candles and everyone laughed and I tunelessly but gaily sang the refrains of folk songs that the more musically adept played on the guitars. It was lovely, and relaxing, and it felt like the day stretched into forever.
The sea was freezing cold, and generally a bit rubbish but the ice cream was excellent and there were many splendid features of the Port Isaac experience. We were:
1. Entertained by the car parking on the beach that comes with tide timetables and warning signs.
2. Enticed and titillated by the Porno Mermaid.
3. Impressed by the lovely views.
4. Outraged by the prices of meals, and coffees and miscellaneous tourist tat.
5. Frightened by the teeny tiny teeny uphill streets through which cars could be guided with the ease of camels transiting eyes of needles.
And now I'm back in London, quietly expiring on my day off while the neighbours upstairs seem to be having sex while power drilling.