I love the small fields bounded by stone hedges, ancient towns with narrow cobbled streets, the transluscent light, the rocky coves and ruined engine houses standing in silent reminder that for a short time Cornwall's copper made it the richest place in the world.
I love the timelessness of Cornwall, the fact that from my house in the village where I grew up I can walk along the creekside to a harbour where the parish church is a thousand years old, built on a site that was holy long long before the first stone was laid. In summer the waters of the Carrick Roads are dotted with boats of every shape and size, and wind-surfers skim over the waves like gaudy butterflies. When winter comes the visitors leave, the yachts and launches are hauled out and packed side by side in storage areas. Then the only boats on the water are the oyster dredgers moving silently across the beds, working under sail as they have for hundreds of years.
A county of contrasts, mysterious, intriguing, Cornwall demands a slower pace and richly repays those who take time to stop and stare. It delights the senses, soothes the spirit and captures the heart. It is a different place. |
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