Cornwall 2005, day three: In which a surfer in a VW camper saves the day

Raining today.

My indoor activity for a Wednesday was to head to the Indoor Market. It’s the largest indoor market in Britain and boasts stalls of all shapes and sizes selling all manner of things. Mr C likes a good market, so I thought this would be a good place to take him on a rainy Wednesday.

Apparently, the entire population of Cornwall had the same idea.

We are not ones for sitting in a queue. We decided to give up and head to Truro instead.

Apparently, so did the rest of the Cornish population.

By this time, I was starting to get a bit annoyed. The whole point of me bringing Mr C down to Cornwall on holiday was to prove that his previous notions of bad Cornwall roads and awful traffic and diversions and wanting to kill yourself were all in the past and that it actually could be a nice, fun place to visit. This was not helping.

We decided to abandon all attempts to get anywhere, and instead focused on getting home. But the traffic was still not helping us. Still not learning from his previous attempts to find a shortcut, we left the main traffic and sailed along a short road.

Holiday Ruin Score: Mr C – 3, Me – 3

Mr C decided he knew the problem with the Cornish roads. “They need to just get a tractor down here and CUT THE HEDGES!!”

You’ll have to excuse the capital letters but we were really starting to get frustrated at this point. I’m amazed that we hadn’t argued or fallen out or anything. If your relationship can survive Cornish roads, it can survive anything, trust me on this.

Anyway, we were quite happily tootling along, and when I say quite happily tootling along, what I really mean is creeping along at two miles an hour and almost having a heart attack around every corner. So, we were tootling along quite happily when the inevitable happened. A VW camper swung around the corner and came to a stop inches from my bumper. There was no passing place, just a ridge/ditch at the side of the road where a tractor had scuffed up the grass. We hadn’t seen a passing place for miles. I could feel my self-control oozing away, so I decided to just go for it. I steered left and went up on the bank, letting the VW past.

Naturally, we got stuck, and the surfer from the camper van had to come and help push us out.

By some miracle, after that, we found our way home, and I had myself a little breakdown. I was desperate for this holiday to go smoothly and couldn’t believe our week was ruined already. Mr C then dropped the bombshell that so far this had been his favourite part of the week.

Never mind the gorgeous waterfall, the green, green grass of Eden or the fabulous karting that he spoke so highly of. None of that was important. The best part of his holiday so far was watching me literally drag my car through a hedge backwards and then cry about it.

Brilliant.