‘Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.’
Laura Ingalls Wilder
Super early in the morning on my first day in Newquay, we headed out en masse (family, aunt, uncle, two out of three cousins + partners, and all five chidlers + bump) to have breakfast with Santa. Much to my disappointment, Santa didn’t actually join us for the consumption component. But after eating a massive English breakfast, complete with fried toast that was interesting if not enjoyable, being hugged (or terrorised, depending on one’s age) by some very authentic Christmas Characters, and seeing real live reindeer, we did get to meet him in his shanty grotto, although I wasn’t allowed to sit on his knee.
We went to a pantomime in Truro in proper English tradition to keep the festive cheer levels up in my two grinchy brothers. It was of Cinderella, and featuring alongside some beautifully remixed pop songs and a less-than-tasteful Nigella joke was a rather gorgeous Prince Charming and his not-half-bad-either valet (pronounced with a hard t, since we were in Cornwall). It was on this outing that we got caught in the first proper storm that I have ever experienced in the British Isles. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if they would invest in some roadside guttering, but a large percentage of the roads were flooded, and I was the only one who seemed to get any enjoyment from dancing in the rain.
During the days, we drove to the coast to visit some run-down-but-still-cute Cornish villages and indulge in pasties, cream teas, and hard boiled lollies. Highlights included a damn good cliff blowhole and a potential rugby team in full on elf and sexy Santa get-up.
Not that I don’t love my gorgeous little cousins once removed, but after having them latch onto me in Summer, I was worried that I would spend my Christmas and 21st birthday looking after them rather than stuffing my face with the constant supply of food. Thankfully, for most of the time that we spent with family, my little brother was chosen as Lead Babysitter for his patience and Lego assembling skill. Aside for the occasional cuddle or book reading, I was then free to eat and drink all the amazing food that my wizard of an aunt had somehow managed to prepare (for 20 people on Boxing Day!)
After a final trip to the countryside to climb Roughtor, we headed up to London in the car. Seeing as I don’t currently live at home, and I’d usually drive myself places anyway, I’d forgotten what it was like to sit in the back seat between two six-foot-something brothers who like to have their knees and elbows jutting in the most awkward of angles. Somehow, we managed to make it up to London without anybody dying a mysterious death, and we had a lovely dinner out in Covent Garden with our family friends before catching the Eurostar the next morning.
tobelivedthroughvicariously 