Aunty K is a tiny lady who wears blue track pants tucked into her thick socks, black trainers lightly speckled with red paint from some past DIY project and a big bright-orange puffer jacket.  She ties her shoulder-length, white hair back from her face with a maroon-coloured scrunchie, carries her out-and-about gear in a Buzz Lightyear backpack and wears stylish black-framed glasses that have a blue tint in the sunlight.

Aunty K lives in a pretty Cornwall village.  Her living room furniture is covered with a variety of blankets, cushions and soft toys, her window ledges and fireplace display an eclectic assortment of ornaments and photographs, her walls are decorated with pictures and letters from her grandchildren and a couple of large photos of the ocean, cut out from newspapers.  At the top of her stairs is a poster of Paddington Bear.

She knows the three squirrels that come into her garden to sneak the grains from her bird feeder.  She keeps a good eye on what the clouds are doing, and one of her favourite past times is to drive to a lookout point along a coastal walk near her house, sit on a bench that is always warmed by the sun, and drink tea from her flask.

When Clive’s family returned to the UK in 1979, accommodation was harder to find than they had anticipated.  Thankfully extended family members were happy to take the children in.  Clive was sent to live with Aunty K for a while.  He has always spoken fondly of the time he spent with her and her family, so it was wonderful to have her accompany Clive’s parents and ourselves as we explored Cornwell together.

I have spent the last few days of our UK trip sharing the back seat of our rental car with Clive’s mum and this special lady, as we’ve toured the pretty District of Cornwall.  Many stories of the past have been shared during this time, and some of them possibly even happened.

Together we’ve visited Truro, The Eden Project, The Lost Gardens of Heligan, Port Isaac (or Port Well if you’re a Doc Martin fan), St Ives, Portreath, Lands End and Penzance.

The Eden Project

The Lost Gardens of Heligan

Tubby’s Head Look Out

The streets of these towns are lined with rows of cottages, most of which are adorned with beautiful baskets of brightly-coloured flowers.  These give way to lanes that are either shaded by leafy green arches or, in contrast, surrounded by vast open fields. Some fields even grow solar panels – how about that!  These fields are often only glimpsed at intervals between the hedge rows, either side of the lanes.

The country lanes that we’ve been travelling on whilst in Cornwall have often only been wide enough for one vehicle, so if another vehicle approaches from the opposite direction everyone must chop their arms off and suck in their breath, and then both vehicles might possibly make it through.  I found it also helped to close my eyes and let out a high-pitched noise.  Alternatively, one of the drivers squeezes their car/van/tractor into the hedge beside to courteously allow the oncoming driver to pass by.   And all this at a recommended speed of sixty miles an hour by the way– which we did not do.   It’s no walk in the park, this country driving.  Clive deserves a medal!

As my husband was busy following the navigation screen, and his Mum busy following that up with verbal directions, I was given the job of choosing some background music for our journeys. 

Being as three of the five occupants were seniors, I chose a mixture of songs from the fifties, sixties and seventies.  Aunty K seems to really enjoy music, often singing or humming to herself, so I expected her to sing along with a fair amount of enthusiasm to this thoughtfully chosen, age-appropriate music.  She did sing a few words to a few songs, but didn’t seem all that interested in my selection. I was slightly perplexed.

It wasn’t until our last evening with her that things fell into place.  Aunty K’s daughter suggested we all meet up together at one of her mother’s favourite restaurants, by the coast in Portreath.  As we parked and got out of the car, we heard some rather loud music start up.

“Oh, there’s a band playing here!” Aunty K exclaimed excitedly.

There was indeed a band and it was loud and upbeat.  She started jiggling immediately.  As we approached the restaurant, the band started to play Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus.  And blow me down with a Cornish feather, our Aunty K began singing along jubilantly – AND she knew all the words!

During our dinner, a slightly intoxicated man dressed in a Kaftan came over and began chatting with us.  We all felt a bit awkward by his loud and rather overfriendly manner.  All but Aunty K, that is.  The very jolly man extended his hand, asked her to dance and without a second’s hesitation she was on her feet, joining him – happy as a happy thing.

When the evening was over and we were walking back to our car, Aunty K was singing along to the band’s final song, Purple Rain by Prince.  Obviously, I had her taste in music totally wrong!  She’s right up there with the young peps.  No lip plumping or false lashes for her though.  They’d be a waste of time and money.   She already has a smile to win any heart and a twinkle in her eye that makes you just know she’s thinking rascally thoughts.

We think she’s more than a bit of alright.