Who wrote that?

A confession.

I don't know whether you figured it out. I didn't write the Retiring to Cornwall post. I asked ChatGPT to do it, in the spirit of exploring what AI can and can't do. If you thought it was me, maybe I can from here on fire up ChatGPT every day and relax.

I asked ChatGPT:

I am an 81 year old male and I retired to cornwall 21 years ago. I have slightly arthritic knees. I like football, as a spectator, and am an Ipswich Town supporter. I am interested in chess and politics. I dislike walking and cornish pasties. I'm not much of a community person. Write me a blog post on the pros and cons of retiring to cornwall

...and that's what I got. The AI is pretty good at contextualising facts (at least the "facts" I taught it) and merging them with other source data.

Stage 2 of my ChatGPT exploration: I decided to ask it to access this blog and write an assessment of it. This is what I got:

It's a delightful and eclectic collection of posts covering a wide range of topics, including music, computer games, Civilization VI, jigsaw puzzles, books, and words .

Here are some highlights from your blog:

• "Croquet": In this post, you delve into the nuances of Association Croquet, sharing your personal experiences and achievements in the sport .

• "They've given up!": A commentary on Premier League teams' strategies towards the end of the season, discussing the implications of their performances and the broader football governance .

• "Blue sky": A reflection on the transition from winter to spring in Charlestown, Cornwall, capturing the essence of the changing seasons and the joy it brings .

• "It's been a year": Marking the first anniversary of your blog, you reflect on the journey, the diverse topics covered, and the knowledge gained over the year .

• "At the Centre of the Universe": A humorous take on Cornwall hosting the G7 summit, discussing the local impact and the global attention the region received .

Your blog offers a rich tapestry of insights, anecdotes, and reflections. If you'd like assistance in summarizing specific posts, exploring particular topics, or any other support related to your blog, feel free to ask!

Obviously it's programmed to be polite and positive. Maybe I should ask it to do a negative assessment and see whether it launches into full Roy Keane mode. Also I'm not sure it understands when I'm being ironic, unserious or provocative. Therefore I asked: Would you like to comment on my writing style?

ChatGPT:

Absolutely—I’d be glad to. Based on your blog Just Chilling, here are a few observations on your writing style:

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📝 Writing Style Overview

1. Conversational & Warm

Your tone feels like sitting down for a chat with a well-read friend. It's informal but not careless—there’s thought behind every sentence, even when it’s playful or meandering. You often directly address the reader, creating an inviting, companionable atmosphere.

Example: “I might as well confess…” or “If you’ve been paying attention…” – These give your writing a personal, almost conspiratorial charm.

2. Eclectic & Curious

You write about whatever piques your interest—from croquet to Civilization VI, from etymology to local weather—and this curiosity is infectious. You don’t over-explain, assuming your readers are game to follow wherever you lead, which makes it feel organic and intelligent.

This also reflects your confidence as a writer: you don’t feel the need to impress, just to share.

3. Light Irony & Wit

There's a dry, understated wit throughout. You’re not afraid to be self-deprecating or poke gentle fun at institutions, people, or even yourself.

Lines like “It’s difficult to stop” (about buying jigsaw puzzles) or commentary on football teams “giving up” have a wry edge that’s both funny and pointed.

4. Balanced Structure

Your posts are well-paced. You know when to digress and when to return to the main idea. Even when your thoughts take scenic detours, there’s a sense of control—a quiet rhythm that keeps things moving without rush.

---

In short: your style is mature, thoughtful, and unmistakably you. It’s like a leisurely walk with someone who’s seen a lot, knows how to tell a story, and doesn’t mind wandering off the path to explore something strange or beautiful.

OK maybe it can detect irony. But I'm flattered (I think). It's still being nice to me, for the moment.

Maybe I should get it to comment on my readers' comments.

A Triumph of Defiance

I've just finished reading The Salt Path, Raynor Winn's memoir of the courage that she and her husband Moth displayed in walking the South West Coast Path. I cried when I reached the final page, because her writing had so invested me in their journey, caused as it was by a series of unforeseen events. Moth was diagnosed with probable corticobasal degeneration, CBD; a few painful years to live. He had invested trustingly in a childhood friend's business venture, which failed; Moth liable for a debt which exceeded the value of their Welsh farm home/business. It was about to be taken away.

No home, no jobs, no money, no hope.

They decided to spend the next months walking the path. 630 miles from Minehead to Poole via Land's End.

Obviously, as a Cornwall (although not Cornish) resident, I was attracted by the idea of recognising familiar locations along their journey. Other than that, though, it's not the kind of book to which I would normally be attracted. I lack empathy for strangers; they're not my thing. But from start to finish, the brilliant exposition of their story pulls me in and I am with Ray and Moth all the way, feeling their worries, pain, fears and sheer hardships. Multiple setbacks about money (lack of), food (shortage), wild camping locations (fear of discovery) and above all Moth's health, simply lead to their being even more determined to do what they've set out to do. They frequently feel close to giving up but they have no home, no jobs, no life to go back to.

The writing captures dramatic moments, beautifully described scenery, hardships, humour and above all Ray's inner thoughts. We are not just observers but participants in the drama. Sometimes you read about people who you feel are simply better than you and I'm not ashamed to say that's my take on this tale.

I don't want to go into details in case readers haven't read it yet. If you haven't, you would not regret doing so. It's been made into a film of the same name, in cinemas now. I'm not a fan of watching a film adaptation after reading the book - often a disappointment in my view although OK the other way round - but with Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs starring and the book often having a visual feeling, I may overcome my aversion. I'll let you know if I do.

Retiring to Cornwall

21 Years Later – A Personal Perspective

By an 81-Year-Old Man with Arthritic Knees and No Love for Pasties

It’s been 21 years since I retired to Cornwall. I made the move in my early sixties, looking for peace and a change of scenery. Now, at 81, I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on that decision — the good, the bad, and the bits in between.

Here’s my honest assessment of what retiring to Cornwall is really like, from someone who’s lived it.

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The Pros

1. It’s Undeniably Beautiful
Cornwall is a stunning place. Even if you’re not one for long walks (and I most definitely am not), you can’t help but appreciate the views — especially from the comfort of a car or a bench. The coastline, cliffs, and open skies are often reason enough to stay put.

2. Quiet Suits Me Fine
If you like peace and quiet, Cornwall delivers. The slower pace suits retirement well — less noise, fewer people, and not much pressure to be anywhere in a hurry. For someone who enjoys their own company and doesn't crave community events, that’s ideal.

3. A Good Place to Think
With fewer distractions and a calmer pace, it’s a decent place to read, reflect, or follow your interests. I spend my time keeping up with politics, watching Ipswich Town matches (from a distance, sadly), and playing the occasional game of online chess. Cornwall gives you the time and space for that.

4. Less Urban Stress
After years of working life and traffic jams, there's something reassuring about a place that moves at its own gentle rhythm. Fewer crowds, less rush, and no one tutting if you take your time at the post office.

---

The Cons

1. It’s Not Built for Arthritic Knees
The landscape may be beautiful, but it’s not always practical. With hills, uneven pavements, and very little flat ground, getting about can be more effort than it’s worth. A car helps — but even short distances can feel long when the knees aren’t cooperating.

2. Public Transport is Patchy
If you don’t drive or one day can’t, you’ll find that buses here operate more on optimism than frequency. Access to services, especially health-related, can be limited depending on where you live.

3. Tourists Everywhere (Sometimes Literally in the Road)
Summers bring a wave of holidaymakers, which makes even the most relaxed Cornish village feel like Piccadilly Circus. Roads clog up, beaches overflow, and everything becomes a bit more difficult.

4. Not a Football Hub
As an Ipswich Town supporter, I’m far from the action. Local football here isn’t quite the same, and there’s no stadium buzz or matchday energy. You rely on TV and online updates — which is fine, but it’s not the real thing.

5. Cornish Pasties Are Everywhere
I know this might be Cornish blasphemy, but I’ve never liked them. Unfortunately, they’re treated like a food group down here. You’ll be offered one at every turn — even at places that should know better, like petrol stations and funerals.

6. The Social Scene (or Lack Thereof, If You Want It That Way)
Cornwall is known for its tight-knit communities, which is great — if you’re into that. I’m not. And to be fair, you can keep to yourself quite easily here. But if you're used to a bit more structured social life without the need to join in, it can feel a bit isolating.

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In Summary

Retiring to Cornwall has its charms and its challenges. For someone like me — who likes his football, enjoys thinking over chatting, and doesn’t fancy a stroll or a pasty — it’s been a mostly quiet, scenic place to grow old.

Would I do it again? Probably. But I’d tell anyone considering it: make sure you like your own company, invest in a decent chair with a sea view, and bring your own lunch. 

Cornish democracy

There was recently an election for the local council in Cornwall. These were the results:

Party	Councillors	% councillors	Votes	% votes
Reform UK	28	32.2	47846	29.1
Liberal Democrats	26	29.9	40259	24.5
Independents	16	18.4	22564	13.7
Conservative	7	8.0	25881	15.7
Labour	4	4.6	15100	9.2
Greens	3	3.4	6524	4.0
Mebyon Kernow	3	3.4	6408	3.9

So, who should run the council? A governing group would need 44 councillors for an overall majority. The exact number of Reform + Independents. Or maybe Reform + Conservatives + a few Independents.

As it turned out, no-one was willing to work with Reform. The Independents proposed a Liberal Democrat as leader and he won the support of 53 councillors with 23 abstentions. The remainder registered as Not Voted. Which I would have thought is the same as abstaining but maybe they couldn't get out of bed.

A cabinet was elected, comprising 4 LibDems and 4 Independents.

Is this how democracy is supposed to work? A party that has the largest number of councillors and was voted for by nearly a third of those who voted gets zero say in council policy for the next however many years?

It's a stitch-up, not democracy. Does anyone care?

Cosmic Girl

The Cornish are going to space!

Cosmic Girl is a modified Boeing 747-400, which will take off from Newquay Airport this summer, in the UK's first ever space launch. Under its wing will be LauncherOne, a Virgin Orbit rocket, with a payload of small satellites, which are used for tracking shipping and other (undisclosed) things. LauncherOne will be released at 35,000 feet and fire its booster to zoom the satellites into orbit.

The fact that the operations team includes the Ministry of Defence, the Border Force and the National Crime Agency leads us to suspect that the satellites may be above our heads but not necessarily above board. Rumours that the People's Front of Cornwall are planning a second launch, PeFroCorn, to track LauncherOne have not been denied. As have suggestions that one of the satellites will be in a geostationary orbit above an asylum seeker processing centre in Rwanda. And another that one of the satellites will be targetting [did I mean tracking?] vulnerable people crossing the  English Channel in small boats.

Cynicism aside, we should perhaps celebrate Cornwall's entry to the twenty first century - skipping the twentieth, obviously - and watch the skies this summer. Perhaps.

I like the Sea

I feel fortunate to live near the sea. I love the sea. Obviously not being on it; I get seasick in the bath. Or in it; certainly not in English coastal waters in winter. Or Australian shark-infested seas at any time. 

I just love the look and sound of the sea. It can sometimes be angry - aren't we all? - but mostly it's a calming solace in troubled times. As with these from Charlestown yesterday.

This is Better

I bought a new phone. The old one - really old, i.e. about 4 years - produced truly awful photographs and I felt I was not giving my readers a good service in that respect. So I spent a few hundred pounds on a Samsung Galaxy S20 FE - just for you! Hope you're grateful.

I thought I'd better go out and give the new phone, and its multiple cameras, a bit of a run. Here are some of the results. I started in my Puzzle Room.

Went outdoors to my garden.

To Pentewan, a small village not far from me. Ranging from wide angle to telephoto:

 

Thence to Charlestown  Harbour.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Finally, as a reward, tea and cake.

The phone has a variety of camera modes.This is panorama: 

Other modes will require a great deal of patience of my part to figure out how to use them. And on your part, to see the results.

I'm very much a point and click guy. My previous phone was a simple phone for ... a simple man. My new model is a clever phone with a clever camera for ... a not so clever point and clicker.

The last of the Romans have left

It's the Annual General Meeting of the Joint Committee of the People's Front of Cornwall (PFC) and the Cornish People's Front (CPF).

Nige (PFC Leader): All right, but apart from the crowded beaches, the traffic jams, caravans, beer cans, public disorder, queues, pollution, noisy groups of teenagers and Covid-19, what have the Tourists ever done for us?

PFC Member: Brought money?

Nige: Oh, money? SHUT UP!

PFC Member: Jobs. And people.

Mandy (Brian's mum, possibly a CPF spy): Who are all those people?

Brian (as in Life Of): A few friends, popped by for a second.

Mandy: Popped by? Swarmed by is more like it. There's a multitude out there.

210,000 of them this year. I know Cornwall needs tourists but what a relief it is when kids return to school, the Tourists depart and we return to ... peace and quiet. And parking spaces. And restaurant bookings.

Always look on the bright side of life
De-dum, de-dum de-dum de-dum

Nige: If you want to join the People's Front of Cornwall, you have to really hate the Tourists.

Brian: I do!

Nige: How much?

Brian: A lot!

Nige: Right, you're in.

Ladybird travels 365 miles?

I did one of my occasional walks to Charlestown Harbour today. Regular readers of this blog will know that it is one of the most picturesque places within walking distance of my house in St. Austell, Cornwall. I always confess to driving a little of the way because the walk back to my house is up a steep hill and ... well, I'm 77 years old with sore knees, so I don't feel the need to apologise for that.

The roundabout walk which I undertake involves an early sit down for a few minutes, a walk around the newly renovated inner harbour pathway, past a few tempting snack shacks and bars, back up to a coffee shop where I purchase an iced skinny caramel latte, down to the outer harbour wall for another sit down, watching the tide coming in and visitor families parading noisily, then a walk halfway back to another brief sit, during which I watched a ladybird - more of that later - and finally back to my car where, of course, the windscreen sun shade has fallen down and the vehicle is baking hot (I forgot to mention that it turned out to be a hot day and I was unprepared and thus wearing heavy jeans and shoes rather than shorts and sandals). What with all the sit downs, the circular route of about one mile stretches out to an hour and half. Fine, relaxing and not terribly energetic.

I don't believe that this degree of casual strolling will help me to lose weight; mouthsofmums.com.au tells me I would need to walk 10,000 steps a day to "easily lose between 500g to 1kg a week". They tell me that the average person "walks between 900 and 3,000 steps per day", which frankly seems a wide definition of average - I'm not one of those nerdy types with fitbits and smart watches, whatever they are, so I have no idea how many steps I've walked today, although I imagine it's nearer the low end - so I might have to be ten times average for two weeks to lose a measly kilo. I could probably do that by fasting for a day. There might be a small argument that a bit of a walk might make a marginal increase in my heart health, which is obviously not a bad thing but the occasional walk thing is, for me, primarily for mental health and wellbeing. Getting out of the house, saying "hi there, dude" to strangers, seeing families with young kids having fun, eyeing up the pub gardens, giving in to a culinary temptation or two, window shopping, watching boats, getting away from the computer, TV and gardening; it's relaxing and life-affirming.

It occurred to me that, if I walked one mile every day I would traverse 365 miles a year, which is roughly the distance from St. Austell to Blackpool. Or Leeds. Or, if you were willing to swim a little of the way, Calais. I've been to all those places and I'm not sufficiently attracted to any of them to attempt the walk this year.

Anyway, back to my ladybird.

This little thing was scuttling along at a rate which, given its size, I would guess was the equivalent of a human's brisk walk, even verging on a trot. Did it have somewhere to go or was it, like me, strolling idly about? And why walk when you've got wings? I genuinely don't understand that, although pigeons have wings and they do a lot of hopping about - although not purposeful scuttling à la ladybird. I found a lot of waffle about the origins of their name but, surprisingly, none referencing the gender-specificity of it. Also no references to gentlemanbirds so the poor males have to share the feminine naming. 

As for their wings, journals.plos.org told me that a study found that "most ladybirds were found between ∼150 and 500 m [high], and had a mean displacement [speed] of 30 km/h. Average flight time was estimated, using tethered flight experiments, to be 36.5 minutes, but flights of up to two hours were observed. Ladybirds are therefore potentially able to travel 18 km in a 'typical' high-altitude flight, but up to 120 km if flying at higher altitudes". Wow. If I'd known that I'd have looked upon my new coccinellid friend with newfound admiration. Although still baffled at scuttling rather than winging.

That's another positive thing about casual, purposeless perambulation: you never know what you might learn. Maybe I should get a smart watch.

Masks and Biomes

14 months ago, when wearing a mask became compulsory on public transport in England, enforceable under law, I was dead against such legal compulsion on a libertarian basis: "let people make their own judgements on their own safety". I was wrong. I imagined that the primary purpose of wearing a mask was to protect the wearer; it swiftly became clear to me that it was for the protection of others and I changed my view.

So how do we calibrate the current situation where mask wearing is recommended indoors and on public transport but no longer mandatory? I imagine that it might be legally possible for a supermarket to only allow entrance to those with face masks but that's obviously not going to happen. I couldn't find any stats from supermarkets to tell me what percentage of customers are still wearing masks but my own observation is that something like 80% of adults (including me, and the staff) are wearing masks in my local Asda. Cornwall has an older population than some places but this includes summer visitors.

It makes sense to me that crowded indoor venues with minimal ventilation and low ceilings are likely to be places where the still ubiquitous coronavirus can spread quickly. So Mask=On.

Two days ago my friend Tony and I made our first visit to the Eden Project for three to four years. A joyous move towards a new normality? Maybe. Much of the eating, drinking and walking is outdoors, but should I wear a face mask in Eden's iconic Domes? Are they "indoors"? The Mediterranean Biome is 35 metres high with ventilation "used to control heat, airflow and humidity". The Rainforest Biome is 55 metres high, with that same ventilation. In terms of potential for virus spreading, how does that compare with an outdoor venue or, on the other hand, a supermarket or cinema (homex.com tells me "retail ceiling heights start at twelve feet and up")? We are not given this presumably quite significant information. Tony and I estimated somewhere between 15% and 25% of adults were wearing masks in the domes, which means that if I were to wear a mask it would be to protect the remainder, which seems public spirited, even though they are not protecting me, which doesn't.

The UK Government's recently-updated Ventilation of indoor spaces to stop the spread of coronavirus (COVID-19) guidance is of no use whatsoever, giving generalisations such as "Avoid spending time with people you do not live with in spaces with a limited flow of fresh air, such as rooms without ventilation or windows that are never opened." Do the domes have an acceptable flow of fresh air? I don't know.

The  Eden Project FAQs say "We strongly recommend that you continue to wear a face covering in appropriate areas, as indicated by signage on site." The signs around the site have basically the same "we advise you to wear masks indoors" warning as do supermarkets. The same FAQ page is headed by an image showing a family apparently leaving the biomes with no masks.

I spent my time in the biomes dithering between =On and =Off. Mask=On where it got crowded, =Off particularly in the Rainforest Biome where it was hot and muggy. I really don't know where I am on this. I just know that I'm sufficiently uncertain about this venue that I won't be going there again any time soon.

Bring back compulsion! 😒

At the Centre of the Universe

I have resumed my pre-pandemic routine of reading my morning newspaper in the flesh, i.e. on paper rather than on my tablet. You'll be pleased to know that this blog will continue in the internet flesh.

Today's paper is full of Cornwall, which is where I live in the UK. For the next few days Cornwall will be the centre of the world. Or at least the centre of the G7 world, since the leaders of the US, UK, France, Germany, Canada, Italy and Japan are meeting from Friday in the sleepy south west of England. Not so sleepy when a very noisy aircraft flew over my house in the middle of last night, waking me up. Civilian flights into the local Newquay airport don't usually operate at night so either (a) this was an emergency load of noisy British revellers returning from Portugal to avoid quarantine requirements, (b) Vladimir Putin's air force was bombing the G7 or (c) a US military cargo plane delivered Joe Biden's armoured people carrier, which apparently has 8 inch armour plating and can survive a nuclear strike. I don't imagine that's a direct strike, more like stopping those nasty uranium atoms from a nearby explosion.

The G7 used to be the G8 but they sacked Russia because Putin insisted on the leaders engaging in underwater naked fistfights to determine the seating positions at the conference table. Now they sit according to political preference: Biden on the left with Merkel to his left, Macron on the right with Johnson on the far right alongside Mario Draghi and Yoshihide Suga, Canada (of course) in the middle. Britain, in the chair, has invited fellow Russophobes Australia, India and South Korea. The latter refused to sit in the same room as the Japanese unless they received an apology for Japan's 20th century imperial atrocities. The Australians only came after receiving an assurance that they would be allowed to continue trading with China and the Indians came as long as Pakistan wasn't included.

There is a suggestion that the G7 could morph into a D10 group ('D' for dumbing down). Although the French want Russia to be invited back into a S11 group - Sinophobes United. The original 'G' by the way stood for Good Guys.

Are all these temporary immigrants good for Cornwall's economy? I don't quite see Joe Biden slipping into the corner shop for a packet of fags or Emmanuel Macron popping into the chippie; Scott Morrison is partial to a pint of beer although given the fizzy muck that Aussies call beer he isn't going to be delighted with the local Proper Job. In a week's time they'll all be gone and we can resume our sleepy lives, at least until the end of the school year when we will be invaded by hordes of kids and dogs who can't travel abroad because the French and the Americans won't have them, the rest of the EU blames us for ... just being us ... and the Australians, whilst in the Green Zone, don't allow anyone past their borders so that they can stay Covid-safe without bothering to vaccinate their citizens.

Spring cheer

Thank you St Austell Town Council for bringing some spring cheer to our lockdown emergence lives.

And to Cornwall Council's Austell Project for looking after the local fauna. 

"to drive forward positive change to make St Austell and its hinterland a great place to live, work and play. Proud of who we are"

St Piran's Day

Yesterday was St Piran's Day, celebrating all things Cornish. I received an email from Cornwall Council reminding me, and telling me that I could identify as Cornish nationality on the census form due in the next few days. I guess there are all kinds of options on the form for me to identify as. I'll let you know when it arrives.

cornishcottageholidays.co.uk tells me "Across Cornwall there are parades, dancing, singing and music to honour the Cornish patron saint.". Not so much where I live.

St Piran was a 4th/5th/6th [uncertain] century Irish abbot. He was exiled by the KIngs of Ireland and arrived near Newquay [where he no doubt enjoyed much carousing, as you do]. The place became Perranporth (Piran's Bay).

According to cornishcottageholidays.co.uk, "St Piran was also known for liking a good drink, which is where the phrase ‘as drunk as a Perraner’ is believed to have come from. Legend has it he survived to the grand old age of 206 years old.". I always said Proper Job was a strong beer!

St Piran was involved in the discovery of tin and is therefore the patron saint of tin miners and, by extension, all miners and all of us in Cornwall. catholicreadings.org is unable to say when or by whom he was beatified.

Here's a group of my mates singing the Cornish National Anthem yesterday:

Stirring stuff, I think you will agree.

Cornish fauna

 Cornish wildlife is super interesting. Weird and wonderful. Take this guy:

Yes, please take  him; he's weird and scary. He can be seen roaming the fields and moors and I run away when I see his hunting party coming. He is called the giant....no, I'm kidding; he's actually a tardigrade and can be found well, everywhere - volcanic mud (not so much of that in Cornwall though), in the deep sea and rainforest (ditto) and on mountaintops (again not so much down my street). He's about 0.5mm long so not so scary - except to other tardigrades.

Here's another scary guy:

Look at those eyes! Following you, ready to pounce. I wouldn't like to be on my own with him in a room. He'd probably tickle me to death. For those who care enough, he is a Lackey Moth Caterpillar.

This is a porbeagle. At least, it's snout. Or rather the rostral cartilages. See, you can learn new words by reading this nonsense. A porbeagle is a species of mackerel shark. I guess you could cook it and eat it in a sandwich. Brown bread please. Which you couldn't say of a tardigrade. Inhabits Cornish coastal waters.

You didn't think you'd see a moose in Cornwall? You certainly will - in Cornwall, Ontario. Along with

and

That's a rat snake, by the way. So far in Cornwall, Canada but not my Cornwall. Thank goodness.

If you're planning on a visit to my neck of the woods any time soon, keep an eye out for the wildlife!

Camel Trail 2

After a good number of non-walking, i.e. light drizzle and 13 degrees days, yesterday was dry and hot.Very hot. Too hot to go for a walk? Maybe, but I went anyway. To walk a bit more of the Camel Trail - see earlier post for details of a stretch near Bodmin.

The walk started at Wadebridge, going towards Padstow. Although not the full 5 miles. 10 miles in the heat is too much for me.

There is no car park near to the start point in Wadebridge, unless you are prepared to go into Lidl and purchase a 69p bottle of Petronas zero alcohol beer and leave it in the car in their car park for 2 hours. That strikes me as rude so I didn't do so, leaving myself with a 15 minute walk from the nearest car park to the trail start point. So I'm tired before even getting started.

The river is in sight for pretty much all of this stroll, although it was low tide. The Camel Estuary is a designated Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty and hosts a plethora of bird life. Waders on the salt marshes in winter and migrating birds such as the occasional Osprey in Spring and Autumn. The river's pièce de résistance, though, is the colony of Little Egrets. Partly because I had no binoculars with me, I sadly saw none of these beautiful birds yesterday. Those I have seen on previous occasions have been nearer to Padstow, I think, so perhaps they nest further down river. Maybe next time.

 The first exciting thing encountered was a cafe selling ice cream in scoops. Needing energy in the heat (as though I needed an excuse) I had a scoop of salted caramel and one of honeycomb. Mm, delicious.

The second, less exciting spot was a sewage works. More correctly the Water Treatment Works - an obfuscation of gentrification presumably meant to make it seem to smell less. It doesn't.

There are lots of people along the way, mostly cyclists. These vary from jovial, relaxed chaps (that's gender-non-specific, FYO) who give a cheerful "hi" to fierce, determined individuals presumably looking to set a PB and who don't even see, let alone acknowledge me. And why are they all going in the opposite direction to me? Not one cyclist has overtaken me, although that could easily be because they can't keep up with my pace. More likely, they have ridden to Padstow in the morning, had a pasty and an ice cream there and are now on their way home.

There was one jogger, who looked so hot and bothered that I wondered "why are you doing that?". She was gone before I could ask her. Just as well,  I guess.

In all honesty, my pace wasn't its usual brisk one, conserving energy in the heat. There is a fair amount of tree shade though, which helped. Other walkers panted an exhausted "hello" in response to my equally brief and weary greeting.

On the way back from my halfway point, I wrote this post. In my head. So it wasn't all a waste of time!

The Camel Trail

I walked the Camel Trail today.

Obviously not all 17 miles of it; I'm a novice walker.

It's a very peaceful, tranquil trail. Given the 4ft 8½in gauge of the old London and South West Railway, whose track it follows, it's easy to see that the width of the trail, at around 2 metres, is perfect for you-know-what.

There are tantalising glimpses of the River Camel through the trees:

Later on, after Wadebridge, the trail is a riverside walk all the way to Padstow.

There's a reminder of the railway days:

(in case you can't see it, that's a platform. Grogley Halt)

And a throwback to pre-war industrial infrastructure:

(I always liked pylons - didn't someone write a poem about them? Spender?)

I reached a point where a bridge allows me to cross the river. Oh, no it doesn't.

Surely there must be a café, Ah, here we are.

Nope, also closed. Guys, could you just open to sell a weary traveller an ice cream? Silence. Maybe Wednesday, when  they are allowed to re-open?

More thirst-inducing temptation:

I'll definitely be back there at some point.

There is a lot to be said for this walk. I was amazed how few people were there. Plenty of cyclists, even one very docile horse and rider. It's mostly gravel and, for me, the best thing about it is - it's flat! No hills, not even a tiny incline.

There are only two things missing from this walk:

1. A pub

2. Another pub (it was a baking hot day!)

I managed just under 2½ miles each way. That's a long walk for me. Next week I might go to Wadebridge to walk a different stretch of the trail.

Walking in Charlestown

Charlestown Harbour:

And the beach (closed - why?):

And the Rashleigh Arms (closed), where I have spent many a pleasant time - and we could definitely social distance here; let us out!