Cornwall, being the sump of Britain, also seems to have amassed all the cars of Britain too, all jammed onto tiny roads too small to share room with us. Land’s End is great if you collect souvenirs, are happy to pay to walk on a cliff, and like the smell of diesel and chip fat. We bid a hasty depart, 11.30 instead of 8.30, as the poorly van went under the doctor again, but came out smiling… a hearty breakfast of beans on toast gave us a strong tail wind which was needed for those fabled hills. We are all most happy to donate to the Cornish Separatist Movement and look forward to Devon tomorrow. Lostwithiel ( now dubbed Lost Withnail) gave us an average Sharps Doom Bar bitter and English Brie, (probably as local as Tesco’s Cheese Bar in Truro. ) Tom is keeping a journal on ‘great industrial estates I have had the misfortune to ride through’ and astrid is worried about her swollen knee…
