Padstow, St Ives and Rock – transformed by tourism and Rick Stein – are out of my budget. I also suspect that, out-of-season, they might be as empty as Mousehole is.
It is the ‘real’ Cornwall that most interests me.So I head inland, under the arches of spindly trees stripped by winter, past terraces of bungalows waving Cornish flags and multicolour houses on steep hills; fields of cabbages, daffodils and caravan graveyards.I head to Launceston, up beside the Tamar Valley.
It is miles from the sea and two hours from my friend L: I hadn’t realised Cornwall was so vast.From the windows I can see nothing but rolling countryside of lush fields and soft pastureland.
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