It has been drizzling and lashing with rain most of the day, until dusk saw the weather lift.
The youth hostel we are in is now silent, now murmurous, cold. D and I ate plates of shop-bought Cornish cheeses in the lounge, where even the wood fire failed to warm.
This is a different Cornwall to the one I remember, the Cornwall of summer, though the sea is still turquoise and the beach glows, even as the night leaks out of the trees and the hill, and everything closes.
Tomorrow, we are seeking out a mansion house, to wander the grounds there. Then on to Land’s End, and hopefully a better light.