May 2012
I always thought a summer break was essential to us all as a family. We could have spent the time and money doing up the home but time away together was so important.
In 1960 I'd booked us in at a small boarding house in Cornwall. We had always enjoyed this particular county but it was quite a drive to reach so I booked for two weeks.
On arrival at the house, after travelling all day, we were pleased to arrive and be welcomed by the landlady. The house was not too far from the beach and looked a bit older than I expected. The lady, Gwen, was very kind and made as comfortable with tea and cake and there was a nice room for the boys. The house definitely had seemed quite old and we laughed at the sloping floor in our room that until we were used to it made one feel a bit woozy.
The sitting and dining rooms were filled with old beautiful furniture, odd but comfortable.
The next day the lads were up early and went off to find the beach. It was quite close and we didn't worry about kids then, like today, they were sensible. We had a lie in for a change, it's surprising how to tiring travelling is.
The breakfast was laid up with cereals and a fruit drink that was unusual but very pleasant. There were no other guests staying at present but some were expected in a few days, Gwen said. Her husband was around but did the cooking so we hadn't met him yet. The breakfast was substantial and set us up for the day. The boys were full of the beach although they had to climb down the cliffs to reach it but were excited as there were lots of caves to explore. In fact the first day we spent there, lovely fine sands and lots of coves, where we almost had the place to ourselves. The holiday was great, walking the cliffs, visiting the little towns around, there was even an old castle to explore; more a ruin really but the imagination runs riot when you are walking the battlements. We were always worn out on the return to the house and a good meal was always waiting for us. They had the help of a chap to serve the meals at night, I think he looked after the garden and probably supplied the vegetables. He wasn't young but quite a looker still. Arthur was an excellent cook and having being fed to capacity we were offered a drink, local brew I suppose, but it certainly made you sleep.
There were some hippies about, they were quite prevalent at that time and had gatherings on the beach. I warned the lads off from going into the caves. I was right as they saw an old guy with a very long beard and hair the next day dressed in a long robe. The lads said they thought it was the lair of an animal as they heard a roar and some fire shining out, but I told them the hippies obviously were having a party.
The parents of the other boys were relaxing like ours and we all went out one evening to the local pub. On the way back we were surprised to see the gardener chap and Gwen in a bit of a clinch outside the back door. We crept by as it was no business of ours and old Arthur was getting on a bit.
Anyway at the end of two weeks we were happy to be going home but feeling better in health and wellbeing. We took a few bottles of the wine; it was pretty good. Lance put the bags into the car for us and we left Tintagel feeling we had been treated like royalty and meaning to return next year.