This year, my mum, sister and I decided to spend Christmas in Port Isaac, a small fishing village on the northwest coast of Cornwall. Thankfully there is no snow, as the village is set in the heart of a steep valley and we’d probably be stranded at the bottom, for the entire festive period and then New Year if there were. And without signal, broadband and nearby shops things would probably get a little desperate. There are only so many times one can enjoy the view along a coastal path whilst eating mackerel, even if it is freshly caught everyday. Anyway, we need not worry there is no snow. So, we are staying in a lovely house, in the middle of the village, only 10 metres away from the harbour.
Cornwall is the place I immediately associate with the British Summer - not only because of the beaches, surfing and usually sunny weather but because of the food. Cornwall is famous for it’s ice – cream, fudge, scones with clotted cream, strawberries, Cider and pasties, all of which to me are quintessentially summer foods. Yet it being winter, I cannot bring myself to eat even one of those things, I love scones, but it just seems wrong. However during the season of excess and utter indulgence I somehow think that’s not a bad thing.
We are staying for a week. Short enough to not exhaust what Cornwall has to offer but long enough to realise a week spent with just the family, in a secluded fishing village, should be done infrequently. No. I joke. It’s lovely to spend time with one another.