Part One | Part Two | Part Three

After Gunwalloe, it was time to head further west. My next bed for the night was in Mousehole {or Mouze-ul; so many names are not pronounced as you might think here!}, but I had a couple of stops to make first.

Boats in Mousehole

One, a house on the edge of a small village where Ailsa of Topaz Magpie {gorgeous jewellery!} lives; we know each other from Instagram, and she had kindly offered a coffee if I was in the area. The other place I wanted to visit was Marazion, known for its art galleries, and of course St Michael’s Mount which sits just offshore and can be reached by walking at low tide.

my favourite boat in Mousehole

Driving along beautiful sunny green lanes, and passing through Gweek, home of the seal sanctuary {next time!}, I pretended I lived in Cornwall, just to see what it felt like. {I did that quite a lot throughout the whole trip.} I actually think I’d move in a heartbeat if my friends and family weren’t all six hours away.

walking to the beach

Ailsa’s home, partly a 350 year old cottage and partly a light filled modern extension, is just heavenly, with views of the sea just a few minutes’ walk away. We had a coffee and talked about creative things {yay!}, she showed me her little jewellery studio and I commissioned some earrings for my sister, and then we walked down through the sun dappled woodland paths to the beach with her two sweet dogs. Falmouth and St Mawes could just be seen in the distance. I basically wanted to move in.

St Michael’s Mount

Then it was onward to Marazion. I was unprepared for the strange high it would give me; after chatting with a lovely lady in one of the galleries I discovered it lies on a ley line, which would explain the extraordinary and apparently unprompted feelings of heart-exploding love and wonder I felt as I wandered through the village. Cue more ‘what if I lived here’ fantasies.

Clockwise from left: a dream cottage, another dream cottage, St Michael’s Mount, a very thin cafe, sand dunes heading towards Penzance

To get to Mousehole, around the other side of the large bay, you drive through Penzance and Newlyn, home of the Newlyn School artists, and of course many art galleries. The drive was easy, thanks to Millicent my GPS {despite the fact that she led me astray more than once and we developed some trust issues, on the whole I was deeply grateful for her. The car was called Gloria, so there were three of us}, and soon enough I was here:

Mousehole

Yeah. I know.

More boats. It’s a thing.

I found it interesting that picturesque harbour villages like this are two a penny in Cornwall, and while some pull at my heart strings, others leave me cold. I suspect it’s a frequency thing, and of course each has its own personality, just like people. Mousehole grabbed my heart and squished it to pieces. I walked through it that evening after checking in at the hotel and was quite emotional. {I’ve got teary more than once on this trip, from beauty overwhelm.} I don’t know if I could live in a small village – possibly too fishbowly for this recluse – but over and over I’ve found myself thinking, well I could live on the outskirts…..

Clockwise from left: Homemade preserves and an honesty box {I bought two}, the view from my hotel room window, a fairy house!, The Mousehole shop {next door to ‘Hole Foods’ ;)}, the hotel gardens leading down to the sea

Seriously these posts take me hours! Time for a break. Next up in this riveting story of Tara’s Cornwall Adventure, the Culture Issue. 😉