We had a long drive to Devon on Friday for my cousin’s wedding, so I decided to go to bed early the night before, I thought an hour or so extra sleep would do me good. Of course, my body had other ideas. I hadn’t accounted for my usual 3-4 a.m. wake-up so after some unsuccessful attempts at getting back to sleep I got up.
I had a few bits I needed to do before we left so I thought I would use the extra time to clear out the fridge of out-of-date food. This escalated to me emptying the entire fridge and scrubbing it clean at 5 am. I finally sat down at 6:30, exhausted, I wondered if I should try and have a little nap but my brain was far too busy for that.
Despite wanting to leave at midday to avoid traffic, we left at 2:15 hitting traffic almost immediately. I was practising deep breathing as we inched our way off of the A2, trying to navigate our way onto the M25 when a huge lorry decided to drive across the roundabout blocking all traffic. I exploded, I wanted to leap out of the car, drag him out of his cab and call him out for being a selfish pr*ck. This rage is becoming too bloody much.
A while later we make our first stop at some services, we haven’t eaten so we decide to grab something from McDonald’s. I’m still riled, my anger is simmering beneath the surface waiting for some slight to occur.
I use the self-service machine and of course, my receipt doesn’t print, I mutter every swear word I know under my breath and head towards to the counter tell a member of staff. After standing at the counter for a few minutes, being ignored whilst the staff chat amongst themselves, I call someone over and explain that I don’t have a receipt and my order number is not showing on the screen and they quickly print out my receipt.
By now the husband has joined me as I glare angrily at the screen, which still isn’t showing my order number. I feel like the pink slime from Ghostbusters 2, bubbling at the slightest emotion, ready to boil over. I eventually hand the receipt to the husband and say I’m going to sit in the car before I lose my sh*t.
I go to the car and have a little cry. I am fully aware that my anger is irrational but I think if anyone dared to say that I would punch them. I can’t seem to control it, and the fact that I know it’s irrational makes me more angry. The husband returns, I explain all of this to him and we get back on the road and as the journey to Devon continues, my emotions dull.
We arrive at our hotel just after 7 pm. My parents and one of my brothers and his family arrived a while before and we said our hellos and headed to our room to unpack necessities before meeting back up with everyone in the bar for dinner and drinks. My other brother and his family arrived a while later and we spent a lovely evening together catching up, it’s just what I needed.
The following day is my cousin’s wedding. I have woken up way too early as usual and, the mother and I pop across the road to the shops to get ourselves out of our rooms. We don’t have to leave the hotel until 2 pm so I get showered and as ready as I can before we meet in the bar at 12. I plan to head back to the room at 12:30 to finish getting ready but I’m enjoying my time with my family and go back at 1 and end up rushing to get ready, getting myself hot and bothered as I do so.
We get to the venue in plenty of time and my cousin looks absolutely beautiful. I shed a little tear when I see her. We sit down to our wedding breakfast and I have my 3-year-old niece sitting next to me, she has been so well-behaved sitting through the ceremony and after her starter is pretty bored and desperate to go outside and play on the tree swings. My brother and sister-in-law are doing their best to keep her entertained but her mind is made up about what she wants and nothing else will suffice, a girl after my own heart.
Eventually, she has enough of being told no and screams the room down announcing “I hate my daddy” This is not her normal behaviour and I find myself envious that as she is 3 she can get away with screaming her lungs out and telling the person who has pissed her off exactly how she feels. This is exactly what I feel like doing 80% of the time lately.
Once the reception gets going I am straight on the dance floor, dancing like I am 20 years old, which lasts for one song, then I have to sit out the next one, regain my energy and then bounce around the dance floor again for as long as my tired old body will allow. I haven’t enjoyed a party like that for such a long time, I felt like I really let my hair down and I needed it.
The following day we headed to Cornwall. Both our heads were slightly fuzzy as we drove to our first stop of Boscastle, a beautiful little harbour village with its museum of witchcraft and magic, little shops and pub hotels was the perfect place to stop for some refreshments. I didn’t particularly want more alcohol but the husband got me a rose wine which reunited me with a new friend of mine – heartburn. Great.
On the way to our first stop, the husband wants to stop at a waterfall. I like the idea of seeing a waterfall, but I would prefer a drive-through one. Right now all I want to do is sit or preferably lie down.
I know I will regret it if we don’t go, so I change into my trainers and shortly find myself relieved at this sensible decision as we walk through the muddy woodland alongside a beautiful stream. After climbing what seems like never-ending hills and steps we reach the entrance of St Nectons Glen, we head downhill, my brain registering that every downhill means another uphill.
I am certain I can smell the rose wine from yesterday in my sweat. This is far more exertion than I ever planned for, especially after a whole day and night of drinking but we are soon rewarded with the view of a beautiful waterfall.
As we had gone through the entrance, we were told we would have to remove our shoes and socks to walk across the shallow stream, but I had been planning to just go through in my trainers anyway, but I soon realised that this wasn’t possible, so off they come. We stand at the bottom of the magnificent waterfall for some time, taking in its beauty. I’m not sure if it’s the waterfall, the walk or the ice-cold water on my feet but I feel a bit better.
We make the journey back to the car via the road avoiding the muddy slopes and make our way to our first overnight stop in the small village of Tintagel. We stayed at a small pub hotel where we freshened up and headed out for some dinner. We decided on Sunday sharing boards at the Malthouse Inn, the husband had a piggy board and I had winner winner chicken dinner, it was delicious.
After dinner we have a short walk along the village stopping for one more drink before taking our exhausted bodies back to bed, tomorrow we have a 3-mile walk planned before we head to our next stop of Padstow.
