Cornwall is a fairly magical place. If you’ve been, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s as if, once past Exeter, you begin to slip into a different world. In a lot of ways, it is a different world. For one thing, no Waitrose, which I believe means that civilisation ceases to exist? Anyway. It certainly feels like a different universe, compounded by the fact that dodgy 3G and WiFi signals conspire to entirely cut one off from the real world.

Predictably, for the first few days, I was sunk. ‘BUT I’VE GOT IMPORTANT EMAILS’ I nearly yelled, marching around the streets with my mobile brandished several feet above my head. And not just emails: during the first week, I spent a few days trudging backwards and forwards to the library (£1.80 per hour for internet access, the bloody crooks!) to complete some job applications. Both were exhaustive, one required me to print out everything and mail it off, and I also entered a writing competition. I wrote over 6000 words in about three days, nearly wept when the whole lot was finally packaged up and sent off, and got to know the librarian by her first name. Florence, in case you’re interested. Good name, eh?

Once my obligations were done with, and I’d slaked my lust for writing about the Samantha Brick saga, I began to unwind properly. I stopped missing London – although I couldn’t stop longing to be in my favourite park, St James’s, when it got sunny. What? They’ve got hilarious birds, lots of blossom, and the people-watching is excellent! Anywhoodle. I walked for hours every day, nearly fell off a cliff while pretending to be a Thomas Hardy/Jane Austen/Bronte heroine, ate a stupid amount of food, and slept amazingly well. And once again, as predicted, I went from itching to get home to really, really not wanting to leave.

People aren’t exaggerating when they talk about the different pace of life Cornish chaps and chapettes seem to work at. I chatted to a girl who has only ever been to London three times in her life. Three times. IN HER LIFE. My mind boggled. I’m not exactly an urban gorilla – I mean, I grew up and still live in Sussex, for god’s sake – but I tend to be up in town around two or three times a week. Three times in a lifetime? No wonder she was quite scared by the prospect of going to uni there! To many Cornish dwellers I spoke to, ‘London’ was like this totally unknown, bizarre concept.

Anyway, I’ve been wrenched back, and I feel unbelievably refreshed. I spoke before about having a creative/writer’s/general block, and how I couldn’t seem to get anything done. It’s cleared! Thank you Pastyland, you’ve worked a treat. Here are a few assorted photos of the wonderful place, and may I recommend you consider it for your next holiday?

I was just thinking – this is the 2012 equivalent of forcing someone to it through a slideshow of your holiday snaps, isn’t it?