Bodmin. But no beasts.

One of those blips that counts as it was past midnight on the day in question... (refer to yesterday's comments on hedonism)

After a slow start and much impromptu off-roading on narrow Cornish lanes looking for isolated cottages housing other wedding guests, we all decamped to Polzeath on the Cornish coast.

Driving along Bodmin Moor was dramatic, as was seeing signs for Siblyback Lake, where my Auntie Gloria lived when her husband Reg managed its fish farm.

I don't think Cornish surfing culture is my bag. It's crowded, chilly and expensive. However lounging on the beach was excellent for wedding debriefs and catching up with friends who attended from far flung places: Delhi, Vancouver, Phnom Penh. I don't enjoy leaving the scene of a wedding without the opportunity to piece together the day's events.

(Side note: Vancouver is a revelation. My ex-colleague Mary now lives there and describes it as wonderful. Killer whales, sea otters, hiking, diving, yoga, no chat about Trump or Brexit).

I've already lost count of how many phases this break from work contains. I think this is the second completed. Now onto the third.