Beaches - medicine, even in the rain
Perranporth Travel Blog› entry 2 of 9 › view all entries
Well, on the Friday before this trip to the beach I had a meeting the whole way down in Truro. Truro is a long way from anywhere, and I stayed with a colleague overnight on the Thursday and the Friday.
We all went out together, on the Friday, after we were done learning stuff and arranging things. About eight of us - we're all on the same graduate scheme and generally get on pretty well. Unfortunately, I had been dumped rather suddenly two or three weeks before this. And two of my colleagues, in the spirit of feedback and helping me to improve my interpersonal style, pointed out that I was actually pretty difficult to be around. This did not help me to enjoy the wonders of Truro! I have memories mostly of wandering off, chatting to some random guy, and wandering back to my colleague's house where in a misguided attempt to make up for being such a pain, I tried to do all the washing up.
And broke a glass. And cried. Then I went and hid in her bedroom to phone a friend and whine about how fed up I was and how much I hated being on a graduate scheme and how horrible my ex was to leave me.
So the next morning I left as early as I could and went to clear my hangover somewhere that wasn't the site of so much disgrace. I remembered the way to Perranporth, a town on the coast we'd been to the day before, and drove down to get some fresh air. There was plenty of this - the day before had poured all day, and although it was dry, it was still cool and nice. I took my shoes off and forded the streams to the rocks. Gradually, listening to the sea, I calmed down a little.
Perranporth is beautiful - I don't know what it would be like on the season, because it's small and only has two car parks, but it has a spectacular, deep beach with streams running into the sea, islands, rocks, a patch of cliff side, and not that many bed and breakfasts. There are some lovely dunes, and a nice place to buy fish and chips, and all the seaside shops your heart could desire. If you need postcards, surfer beads, or a plastic bucket and spade, this is your place. And there is a bar that we'd been to the day before where you have to walk across the sand to get to, which was really nice too. If only I'd been a little less dumped when I was there! Sigh...
Perhaps it was all ok.
So beaches are magical, even in the rain, and chilli and chips can ease broken hearts. I got back in the car and avoided the motorways for as long as I could, skirting the edge of Dartmoor, visiting a ruined castle, and wishing I'd booked a B&B on the coast. Then eventually, with it getting late, I turned back onto the motorways just as the sky opened. It rained on the M4, it rained on the ex in Bristol, and it poured on the car the whole way back to Swindon. Thank goodness for beaches.