When I moved to Cornwall in the 80’s from Brighton, life was not quite as idyllic as I had anticipated. The job I came to do was kicked into the long grass and rather than having a month to find my feet in a new area I had 6 months. 6 long, wet, lonely months. November is not the best time to move house and home many hundreds of miles from friends and familiarity. Luckily I had a small companion, a two year old son who could accompany me on my winter adventures in a strange land . The town I moved to, like much of Cornwall had an unhealthy reticence about welcoming people from ‘ Up the line’ In November toddler groups are part way through their term and our little team of two was turned away. Sometimes with the promise of being put on a waiting list. 35 years on I am still on more waiting lists than I care to think about. Undefeated I joined the National Trust and we set off on a two person adventure to learn about the history and geography of Cornwall in the short daylight hours of winter. It was an adventure and one that gave me the foundation for a life that I have mostly lived in the South West of England. The trouble is that sometimes I have missed a gem because back in the eighties certain places failed our not-too-high standards. Basically anything Pixie/Pisky related. Witchy the same and to a degree Smugglers if Wreckers were not included in the narratives. Poor cafe facilities or being over priced also got a bad mark. Some places I have never returned to.

Yesterdays trip to Golitha Falls is a case in point. From my recollection both Pixies and a poor cafe were involved.

What a chump I have been, not to have given the place a second chance until now!

No Pixies in the 21st Century and a fabulous cafe. Free parking and the most beautiful woodland river walk. Golitha Falls perhaps suggests a rather grander drop of water than exists but the area is beautiful and despite the carpark being full, really quiet once we were in the woods.

Golitha Falls is the location of the drowning of the last King of Cornwall.

King Doniert, not a name that has ever come back into fashion ,died in 875 either from fighting in the river or frolicking. Nobody knows. What is rather unbelievable is that these ancient woodlands would have looked pretty much identical to what we experienced yesterday.

Serendipity took us there yesterday. My, rather daft, prejudice against decades old tourist tat has denied me some rather lovely walks. Maybe I need to revisit some of the other places that were crossed off my list more than 30 years ago.

And how lucky was I to have 6 months exploring such a fascinating county with a 2 year old in his wellies.