Dinner date with lovely weather

A couple of months ago, popped over to Cornwall, when I pit stopped in London for a long time. (Popped over, meaning taking the 8 hour overnight train from London to St Ives. It is the best way to do it, in my opinion.) Cornwall is pretty spread out, so it takes a couple of days to explore and eat. Cornish food is probably some of the best in the United Kingdom. Almost everything is near the coast, which means seafood is plentiful, there are tons of free roaming cows and dairy products are excellent and all things point to a generally tasty time.



What I usually did was ate a ridiculous breakfast at the bed and breakfast and went off out of St Ives for the day, walked and saw gardens and beaches and came back for dinner. On the last evening, I got back to St Ives and climbed over the hill to the other beach (there is a beach at the St Ives train station as well as on the other side of the town), and had dinner at the Porthmeor Cafe Bar.

Cornwall as a little bit of a surreal time. Especially since there was excellent weather. Grumpy warned me not to bring any shorts because I wouldn't need them and to bring a woolly sweater (jumper?) It was so hot, that I had to stretch the summer portion of my bag so thin, and got a sunburn on top of that. The locals said that this sort of weather was unheard of, but I was none the wiser, meandering through tiny cobbled streets on the way to the train station early early in the morning, with seagulls screeching intermittently overhead. The roads are so windy and little and the town was so small I didn't bother with a map. In the 4 1/2 days I was there, I didn't manage to pin down a route to or from the train station. Inevitably I'd slip into another road and I'd go off on a walking tangent.



This was about a 5 minute walk down a steep incline from my bed and breakfast, and maybe a 10 slow uphill struggle from the cafe back up. My favourite thing to drink while I was there was elderflower cordial/water/juice/soda.



I had some ricotta fritters and some turbot with potatoes that were scrrrrumptious, curled up with a Cornish food magazine that used some matte paper stock and had a large fish on the cover and watched crazy people swim in the ocean. God it was cold water. Then, before attempting to drag myself up the REALLLY STEEP HILL back to a HOT SHOWER, I came across a mini Stone Henge on the beach: