In fear of the madding crowd
Located in the south-western corner of England, Cornwall is one of those places whose mythology shapes its reality, and not always in favourable ways. This summer, as a result of restrictions on foreign travel, it became the favoured holiday destination for many wealthy Britons.
With its glorious bays and rolling surf, the appeal is not hard to see. It’s geographically distinct from the rest of the country, almost as if a slab of New Zealand’s Coromandel Peninsula had been grafted on to England’s gentle rolling hills. This year, there was the added attention it gained from hosting a G7 summit.
But the truth is, the weather is unpredictable and, outside of a handful of places, the food is not very good. So, the job of the visitor is to pretend that everything is better than it actually is. This calls for old-fashioned British stoicism and a raincoat, just in case. When I was there last week, staying at a friend’s charming cottage, I took to wearing shorts each day, as though I were in the Mediterranean. I even went swimming in the sea.
I say swimming, but it was more like hyperventilating in an ice bath. Naturally, the done thing is not to make a show of discomfort and instead to affect an expression that suggests joyful refreshment. After all, who cares if you lose all feeling in your limbs?
We also went on lots of bracing and dramatic walks. Walking was the preferred mode of transport because the roads were bumper-to-bumper with cars. One day, we decided to drive to a walk, but gave up after half an hour in which we had moved a few hundred metres. Britain is a small country with a large population, and when everyone goes on a “staycation” at the same time, it can feel as crowded as Hong Kong at Chinese New Year.
These, of course, are the kinds of minor complaints that fall under the shameful rubric of First World problems. And, actually, the experience showed me how absurdly spoilt we’ve become in believing that foreign holidays and good restaurants amount to a kind of human right.
In reality, Cornwall is one of the poorest regions in the country. Venture away from the tourist spots and unemployment is rife and the signs of poverty are everywhere. Meanwhile, second homes are at a premium and locals, understandably resentful, are priced out of the property market.
However, none of that seems to undermine the mistaken notion that
Cornwall, with its surfers and laid-back living, is England’s answer to Southern California. So, every year, a stream of new people in search of an alternative lifestyle relocate to this extremity, as if the country is lifted up and everyone who is not firmly rooted falls into the south-western corner.
The good news is that tourism doesn’t appear to have triggered another large outbreak of Covid. In fact, since the main holiday season started, cases have been falling in Cornwall. Elsewhere in the country, the new wave that was expected after so-called “Freedom Day” on July 19, when nearly all restrictions were lifted, failed to materialise.
There are lots of theories about this dog that didn’t bark, but the most likely one is that the vaccination programme has worked, at least in terms of keeping hospitalisation cases down. There remains, however, a significant minority of people who are determined not to be jabbed because they see the vaccine as improperly tested and a contravention of their personal freedom.
Many of this stubborn constituency have few reservations about taking illicit drugs that are never tested. And of those, I’d wager a good number will end up sooner or later in Cornwall. Which is one reason to stay away from the crowds. l
Andrew Anthony is an Observer writer and is married to a New Zealander.
Venture away from the tourist spots and unemployment is rife and the signs of poverty are everywhere.