We went back to Cornwall again this year for some fresh Cornish air, a little bit of sunshine and the restorative feeling of the wild Atlantic pummeling your body. I love it. I want to stay there forever.
I love camping too, but I am pleased not to have to walk a third of a mile to the toilet in the dead of the night now that we’re home.
I will miss the view from the tents though.
The kids always enjoy the campsite; they meet the same friends every year. Their cousins also camp at the same time as us, so they have quality time with them too, building memories to last a lifetime.
Their favourite thing this year was the giant rock pool they thought they had discovered. They were amazed to find out that myself and my sisters also used to swim there when we were their age.
I struggled to reach the rock pool myself; all my injuries conspiring together to make it a tricky feat. I was content though to see them having fun and hear their tales of adventure: the cold water; the rocks to jump off; the drama of jellyfish.
It is a wonderful circular perfection to watch them enjoy the same things I loved as a kid.
I did make it into the sea though on the sunny days and the miserable days. It’s funny how everyone of all ages wears wetsuits now, no-one ever did when we were kids.
I do get it. The sea is a cold 16 degrees and a wetsuit allows you to stay in longer. I’m kind of partial to the whole cold experience though, from numb feet to that shock wave as the sea hits those more sensitive body parts, to the feeling of not being able to breathe properly.
So we rocked the non-wetsuit look all on our own and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that neither of my wetsuits actually fit me this year, and the kids have outgrown theirs! We just hate wetsuits and we love the cold sea because it heals you from the inside out.
It makes you feel alive.