Exhausted, stressed, tired and penniless we set off for Cornwall at 5.30am on a wet and soggy July morning – Bruce had just returned from a gig and I just wanted to escape from …well everything really. The kids dragged themselves out of bed and into the car and by the time we reached the M6 everyone was sleeping soundly, except me as I was driving and battling with lorry spray and a torrent of standing water. We passed an accident where someone had quite obviously lost the battle and rolled the car, debris littered over the carriages like a suitcase spilling its contents, it had only just happened, I hope everyone was OK.
After a pit stop just after Bristol (items consumed 9 cobs, 7 bags of crisps, 1 packet beef, 1 packet ham, cheese, jaffa cakes and a kit kat) we arrived in Plymouth to visit our friends S & J then continued on to Mullion. The sun began to make brief appearances, the rain stopped and all of a sudden we were on holiday……….The kids, as always, are the best and never fail to make us laugh at their silly words and observations, apparently one of the ruder ‘in’ sayings is from Southpark (or Family Guy all the same to me). We drove the last few miles full of hope – hope that we would have a super duper caravan thingy and even more hope that the jet stream would position itself where it’s supposed to be this time of year IE north of the UK!
Our first view of Parkdean Holiday Park, Mullion was the concrete building with Costcutter emblazoned across it, the windowless, grey architecture a relic from the heady days of 1950s holiday camps. This did not bode well, a bunker for a shop, a barrier at the gate and rows of green Nissan hut style caravans almost arrogantly plonked in a beautiful part of the country. Reception were friendly and efficient and gave us our entertainment passes which we never paid for and had deep reservations about using them for the ‘on site entertainment and pool complex’.
We found our block and located our home for the next two nights – a green static caravan set within it’s own water feature – a bog! To be fair to Parkdean they were working tirelessly to place down paths, paving stones and gravel to counteract the rain that the pesky jet stream has been dumping on us for the last few weeks. We investigated our nissan/caravan further, it didn’t take much investigation as it was very small for a static van and certainly not big enough for all 6 of us. The first indication of this was the seating area that we couldn’t all sit in at the same time (meals in shifts, TV watching rota) further investigation found the sofa bed a very tight squeeze to pull out and not get mangled with the table and the flimsy mattress was dismissed out of hand “I’m not sleeping on that thing” retorted one happy teenager. Consequently George ended up sleeping at right angles in the L shaped dining area. As Bruce and I squeezed and pushed past various bodies, luggage and shoe debris we located our bedroom and the wonderfully considerate built in incontinence sheet on the double mattress – no way of removing it whatsoever but at least we can now wet the bed with impunity! We’re staying for 2 nights and will be visiting friends so we’re going to have to put up with it.
On the bright side Cornwall is a beautiful county, rugged and quaint, almost foreign and so very different from the rolling Leicestershire countryside and we were away, I’m not sure Bruce shared my optimism, partly due to being thoroughly knackered and partly due to his non comprehension of how anyone can possibly enjoy a holiday in the rain, I think it’s his Mediterranean blood that’s a the heart of these weather issues plus the fact he can be bloody miserable sometimes. Ohm rang his old mate H in Flushing and speedily set up going over to see him for a sleep over – so leaving 3 bodies behind Bruce, Ohm and I set off for the quaint little village opposite Falmouth and Penryn where Ohms best friend from his school days in Penryn lives. H’s Mum was in the Royal Standard Pub so we felt it only right, after dropping Ohm off that we go and join her.
We were met with warm friendly service that stretched to giving me a wine taster to be sure I liked it – I did! Bruce had a pint of Doombar, a locally produced beer. The menu looked diverse and interesting with most things homemade and apparently the food is well worth splashing out for, maybe next time. We settled down outside, child free and listened to K telling her stories and anecdotes with such naturally comedic timing that we were soon falling about laughing. Her stories included her pissed up Granpops as commander of a Navy ship and taking his lump hammer to a Japanese made Microwave oven, her various ballistic experiments one involving a pedal bin, several cans of hairspray and a dead turkey, apparently her television set was no more after that little escapade and her sons battle re-enactments where one elderly lady beat him around the head with her handbag when he was dressed as a German officer. K was interesting, intelligent with a passion for life and a hearty laugh, enough to chase the blues away and take you away from the mundane existence found in the cul de sacs of of a Leicestershire village where the most interesting thing some of our neighbours have to think about is what that unconventional family across the road (that will be us) is up to and why we don’t put our bins back on the drive the second the bin men have emptied them! After a freshly ground and just about perfect coffee we set off for our barracks and a much needed sleep in our plastic bed.