It's a working water mill, as one of those many links reminds me, down in the wooded valley just outside Veryan. We sat at a millstone made into a table, on the edge of the shallow lake. Strings of blue lights, canvas awnings strung between the trees, flaming coals in metal buckets hung out over the lake. The children can go look at the workings of the millwheel, or walk round the lake. There's lichen on all the trees; fish jumping.
This morning: making scrambled egg and toast for everybody too busy packing; saying an extended goodbye (always one more thing); and now the silence after departure. A week in Scotland in a remote cottage by the sea. Flight from Exeter to Glasgow, pick up a hire car, there by nine, or probably later. Binoculars and sketching things all packed. Walking up Ben Nevis.
And the rest of us left in this sudden heatwave in Cornwall. Perhaps we'll take the kayaks round to a beach, or to look at the ships laid up past the King Harry.