Billy Bailey was sitting impatiently outside our house wondering when he would eventually be off to have some fun. The waiting was finally over on Friday morning as we finally set sail for Marazion at about 9:15 AM. I use the word “sail” advisedly; easterly winds may be unseasonably cold but they certainly seemed to pay dividends on the journey west to Cornwall as we were fairly blown along in a very relaxed fashion to our destination. 31 mpg towing was hitherto completely unheard of and, with diesel at £1.22 per litre on the motorway (that’s about $9 a US gallon for Amerispeakers), very welcome. It really is time this country rebelled against the levels of tax; we need a decent amount of civil unrest.
Traffic was light, even on the M5 where we paused to refill the tank and to have a reviving Costa doppio for me and cappuccino for astronavigatrix, Carol. A little lightening of the foot and some judicious slipstreaming of heavies helped with our fuel consumption. We have a couple of irritating rules in this country – irritating in that they seem to conflict with each other, to some extent. Technically, towing vehicles are permitted to do 60 mph on motorways and dual-carriageways. This was fine until, a few years ago, we introduced a bizarre regulation limiting lorries to 56 mph. (This regulation smacks of Brussels ‘cos 56 mph = 80 kph.) Now, it’s very difficult to do 60 because you’re nearly always stuck behind a heavy doing 56. Brilliant!
Nonetheless, ‘t was a good journey and we arrived at Kestal Farm, just outside Marazion (St. Hilary nr. Goldsithney, to be accurate), at about 4:00 PM to get set up with the now traditional beer or three before some drizzle started. The timing couldn’t have been better; it’s unpleasant having to set up camp in the rain. Cooking dinner in the rain, on the other hand, is perfectly fine, especially when accompanied by some vino.