I remember the roadside pottery stand and the lobsters in the back of the car and the secret room with a single bed and the grand hotel lobby and the frothing, foam-fringed sea. Two summers of driving to as far west as you can go, and little did I know that some two decades later, I’d have lived there not once but twice.
The first time, Cornwall was held in silky river swims and windswept Monterey pines and large stable doors on small sheds; now it is the wild west where storms rage in the winter and turquoise seas sparkle in the summer, and where doors are left open for neighbours to pop their heads in.
Ours is a town less populated by summer tourists than on the north coast, perhaps a result of the distance from London or because it’s less polished than the places lined with bobbing with sail boats (our waters favour weathered fishing boats). Still, there are plenty of people settling into their staycations while we go about our usual rituals and routines.
I too like to spend the season like I’m on a prolonged staycation. Days are punctuated by swims (morning, lunch and evening) and near-daily ice creams from Jelbert’s procured en route to the sea (one scoop, waffle cone). Weekends look like beach bbqs where dogs and kids run free on the sand, or solo excursions to quieter coast paths, or gathering around a table where icy drinks are poured and shared. We regularly toast to the ephemeral season that stays only for as long as it wants to, and as we catch each others gaze across clinking glasses, we acknowledge and agree how incredibly lucky we are to live on holiday.
The art of the staycation is leaning into the its unpredictability. British summertime is always a gamble – one week it’s a blistering heat, the next you’re wiping hail stones from your windscreens (the week before the heatwave hit, I was genuinely lighting my fire). You must embrace the uncertainty. Easy to say when I don’t have to risk the sometimes eight hour journey down in the only week booked off for holiday, but once you let go of the ‘perfect weather’ dream, you can enjoy the staycation for what it really is: an excuse to leave quotidian life behind.
On a recent shoot, I hosted the team in my home for two days, intent on capturing the ultimate Cornish summer. The sun had been blazing for a week before, but by the time I picked everyone up from the station, the clouds were firmly set in place and the scene was set for a soggy couple of days. It was comical, as the rain tapped gently on the window – and perhaps even more representative of a classic British summer. We sipped spritzes under stormy skies, sat on the beach with cold water lapping our toes, eating fish and chips in the mizzle. We made the best of a grey situation – which any holiday-goer in Britain can surely relate to.
We, of course, keep our fingers crossed for a sun-drenched summer for us all. But if the clouds and mist and rain descends, make the most of it. Swim in the sea. Drink the spritz. Stay outside. Camp in the rain. It’ll be just as memorable.
Words by Cat Sarsfield
