I haven’t embraced my last one leaving for school. She is missed so much, so I spend my days making sure there is lovely home cooked food every night and the girls are happy. I had a moment of nostalgia as I opened the freezer and saw all the pots of wild blackberries we had picked in September and decided to make blackberry summer pudding, a dessert I loved as a child and the hubby loved my Mum making when we first met. To make it even better than the good old days I made individual ones. How cute your own pudding, mini childsize! I gee-ed them up after school and they were so excited. I will be honest as lovely as they looked, and home-made with berries we had picked over weeks as a family on various outings the blackberry summer puddings were not a hit with the girls at all! I was glad I made them, us adults loved them and gobbled them up, then ate the discarded ones too!
There is a whispered conversation every now and then, muttered in passing, or if you have gained someone’s trust enough and they feel they trust you.The two words are ” locals beach” these are beaches that are frequented by “locals” only. Not known to tourists or “up-country folk” sometimes they are the same beach you may have been going to for years but it will be an entrance three miles up the way that no one else knows the path too apart from those few that have been told. Over the years of living in Cornwall we have been told of such places and the last couple of weekends we have made it our mission to find a couple.
There is also a reason why a secret beach is a secret beach, they are usually difficult to access, the roads leading up to them can take the chassis off your car. The path way can almost kill you. But you don’t know this until you are well on your way to the hidden, local beach that you so long to find.
We have been blessed with gorgeous weather lately, the sun has shone on us in Cornwall, the days crisp yet sunny and bright. Last weeks mission lead us down a coastal path I have never walked and as we scrambled to a secret cove miles from anywhere as the waves crashed in it was like reaching heaven. We picnicked on the rocks, the bluebell girl cautious of going onto the sand for fear of being washed away the younger one playing dare with the waves. We saw no one, our foot prints the only ones on the beach. A Sunday of bliss. However not all these Sundays have happy endings, early in November the sky was full of rainbows as sun turned to rain and rain turned to storms. Another picnic, this time on the cliffs over looking the secret local only beach. The surf was wild and the daring were in the sea. We had trekked long and far and took a big climb to get to our spot. Not taking heed that we had to journey back with our two little angels as well. The picnic was fun, we played games in the sand dunes and munched on sandwiches and crisps. I had one of those precious ‘days gone by’ feelings, until the sky turned black. We made a move but were too late. The wind threatened to blow us off the dunes, the climb was too much in our wellies. The older one brave but frightened, the little one held nothing back as she screamed and feared for her life out loud we battled through brambles and marsh grass. Off the path we fled for a short cut, this made it all worse. As we finally arrived back to our car, our faces rain and tear streaked I saw the biggest rainbow I have ever seen over us. A sign, this will make the flower girls smile again, but not the case, freezing cold and wet through, it didn’t matter to them that we found a beach so few knew existed, rainbow or not!
We have learnt to pick our days well, and question further the bringers of these secrets.