Cornish blue

I am sitting in front of an open fire in the middle of a field in Cornwall. It's almost pitch black, the deep blue sea is like a tall, flat-topped mountain to my right, the moon is a spotlight in a star-filled sky. The fire is glowing an intense orange and cracking like a thousand secretaries in a 1940s typing pool. The air is laced with the alluring scent of wood smoke. I'm surrounded by great friends. We've had a wonderful meal which tasted of charcoal, and Wils and Tomas have just performed Star Wars for us as a five act play. A distant clock strikes 11. The vague murmur of fellow campers going to bed.

Coming to Cornwall is a first time experience for me. Heaven knows why it's taken me this long to get down here. I guess it's not really en route to anywhere else. It is, however, absolutely stunning. 

We walked down to the little cove below our camp site earlier on and swam in the turquoise, crystal clear water which was cleaner than any I've seen in this country. It was colder, too, than anything I've dipped my toe in for some time. The coastal paths are lined with wild flowers; purples, yellows, vivid reds; sweeties on a snooker board.