Surf's up!

It's a dreary, wet Tuesday morning which is quite the contrast to my wonderful bank holiday weekend. At least with the weather being like this, sitting in an office is not so horrible.

My weekend started on Friday evening when the boys (Rob and Joe) picked me and my tent up and we started on the first stage of our journey down to Cornwall. It took a little longer than usual to get down to Woodfalls, about three and a half hours all in all, but we were all excited enough about the coming weekend not to let it upset us too much. With the first stage complete, we packed up the car, drank a bottle of wine and went to bed at about midnight, setting our alarms for 4.45am! Eeeek!

We dragged our sleepy selves out of bed, gulped down some tea and squeezed into the Rob's mango coloured Saxo. That's right, not yellow, mango! At least we were very easy to spot in the fog. We joined up with Hawksy, Emily and Jonathan and started the second stage down to Newquay in convoy. As we travelled down the A303 the mist and fog began to clear to reveal blue sky and sunshine, and the excitement levels in the mango machine rose, so much so that we put Pendulum on the stereo and raved our way down the road at 6.30 in the morning. Hardcore! Unfortunately for Hawksy, his car was very much the opposite, with his passengers all asleep!

We made excellent time as the roads were all clear. Obviously most people went down on the Friday and weren't prepared to get up at silly o'clock on a Saturday morning to drive down. More fool them!

Our destination was Watergate Bay, just outside of Newquay. Hawksy and Emily went into reception and we all waited outside, half hiding as technically we were not the right ratio of boys to girls to be accepted on the campsite.

Our pitch, the best in the park we reckon, was right at the end near the back gate. We had sea views all for £24 for two nights. Bargain! It was about 9am as we set up camp which left us the whole day for the beach. I had borrowed a tent from my lovely housemate. I didn't have a clue how to put it up however. Everyone else had the usual dome shaped tents, mine appeared to be a little bit different. With a little bit of trial and error, and everyone mucking in to help we managed to erect it, and actually it was perfect as it had a big porch where all the cooking stuff got dumped.

Rob's mum is a diamond and had packed everything we could have dreamed of. We also had breakfast sorted with eggs, bacon, sausages and bread. We set fire to one of our many disposable barbecues and we were away. Although it did fall off the rest and burnt a hole in the grass...luckily no one was hurt in the making of our breakfast!

Full of fry up we changed and headed down to Newquay to hire boards and wetsuits. Fistral Bay was our beach of choice and we found ourselves a little spot just as the sun came out from behind the clouds. It was beautiful and stayed that way all day.

An hour or so later we joined by the last two members of our party, Elliot and Vince. Originally they had planned to come down a lot sooner, but got way laid by hangovers from the night before! Slipping to my snug wetsuit i tried not to think about who had peed in it before me and ventured into the waves, body board in tow. The waves were pretty good, especially for my first day, as i hadn't been boarding for a couple of years. I managed to catch a couple of waves and wanted to stay out forever! The sea was extremely cold though and my feet were so numb i thought they might drop off. It was such a gorgeous day that it was easy to get warmed up again and sittijg on the beach we could have been anywhere abroad. It was heaven.

AS the sun began to lose it's strength we went in search of Cider and ice creams. I just stuck to the cider, yum! We then headed to Morrisons with what seemed like the whole of Cornwall and did a supermarket sweep/tag team/relay to grab all the things we needed. This mainly included beer and meat for the barbeque.

Jonathan did a stirling chef job when we got back to camp and we had burgers and sausages, chicken wings and legs coming out of our ears. Nobody went hungry!

As the sun began to set we wandered down to the cliff edge and found a coastal path which led all the way to Watergate Bay. It was stunning and so peaceful. We took photos and sat quietly watching the sun go down. Listening to the gentle crashing of the waves below, the breeze from the sea cooling my slightly sunburnt face, i felt so at ease. I decided that I'd left my troubles back in London and this mini holiday was a way of escaping.

We stumbled in the twilight to a bar we'd noticed earlier and stayed there for the evening drinking Red Stripe for £2 a pint and G&Ts (well, just me on the Gin actually) and started doing some silly drinking games. I had consumed five gin and tonics in quick succession. As most of you know I'm no lightweight, but the boys didn't know this and i think they expected me to fall over at any moment. I reckon i ended up the most sober of the bunch, in fact!

As the bar closed we decided to call it a night as we had had such an early start that morning. Needless to say after quite a few beverages we decided to risk taking the road back to the tent than the cliff top walk...probably the most sensible decision we made for the whole holiday! For some reason, and i think you really had to be there to find it amusing, we played a stupid game on the walk back which involved pulling different poses every time a car shone it's headlights on us. All in hoodies we must have looked like a bunch of chavs, which we used to our advantage by acting out graffiting walls, mooning cars and striking "wide boy" poses. We have photos to prove it. Like i said, it was funny at the time!

As quietly as we could we got back into the tents and eventually fell asleep. I was sleeping with one eye open however, as my tent buddy has a tendency of not quite making it out of the tent when he needs a wee. Thank goodness he was on his best behaviour, that's all i can say!

Friday in Normandy

As I stepped off the Eurostar at 9am on Friday I wondered if I'd recognise my friend Francky, who I hadn't seen for about five years. I needn't have worried. As I passed through the exit I spotted his hat. You see Francky is a Cow-Boy, a French Cow-Boy. He wears the full outfit, much to the amazement of many Parisians. He frequently gets odd looks on the Metro. Francky loves the attention and even if he wasn't wearing his cow-boy get up, people would still be staring.

I met Francky in 2004 on a ranch in Wyoming. Since then I'd promised to visit him in Paris. This weekend I decided it was time I took him up on his offer.

So on Friday morning I found myself being given the guided tour around Ecole Militaire where Francky is part of the French Cavalry. The stables were full of beautiful horses, all cared for immaculately. It was clear (even with my basic knowledge of French) that Francky is well respected amongst his peers, as they all stopped to say hello and he gave them instructions for the day.

After my tour and a quick cup of tea we jumped in the car and headed out of Paris, to Normandy. Francky switched on the CD player and Cotton Eye Joe blasted out of the stereo. I couldn't help but giggle.

As we got towards Deaville, Francky started to tell me, in his broken English, about the 6 years he had spent there. He told me a story about jumping out of the local girls school window, narrowly escaping getting caught by one of the Nuns. This is the first of many stories involving Francky's conquests. He's a true Frenchman with a great love of women. I should know, I was one of his victims all those years ago in the Wild West...!

We arrived at a run down, typically French farmhouse and I was introduced to Mr Baccush and his wife. I was mistaken for an Italian. I have no idea why. From what I could gather Mr Baccush asked the Cow-Boy if i could ride well. The answer was yes, very well. I smiled at Francky and Mr Baccush asked in a heavy accent "you jump?" "Oui" I answered, as this is pretty much all I can say en Francais. That seemed to be all the clarification he needed.

We rode out towards the coast in the sunshine. My horse was called Urhold and Francky remembers him from years gone by, when he was working at the farm and teaching adults and children to ride. I was astounded to hear that Urhold was 24 years old. He didn't look it and certainly didn't feel like an old horse as we reached the beach and began to canter. It took all my strength to hold him back.

The weather was perfect for riding on the sand, with blue sky, bright sunshine and a cool breeze. With the wind in my ears and surf spray in my face we galloped along the deserted beach. I was grinning so much my cheeks hurt. As we gave the horses their heads a few solitary people watched as we swept down the shoreline. The horses began to race each other. My elderly steed and I won, of course, much to Francky's amusement.

Sadly as the horses began to tire and the sun lost it's battle against the oncoming clouds, we returned to the stables. Dominique, Mr Baccush's son, helped me hose Urhold down and started talking to me in French.

"Je ne comprends pas..." I say sheepishly.
"ah, Italien?"

Erm no, I'm still not an Italian... I told him I was English and he started to pick out odd phrases he knew. "Good horse, bad dog, London and pretty" seemed to be his words of choice. I smiled and nodded. His English was far better than my French!

After some long-winded goodbyes, we climbed back in the car and started on our journey back to Paris. Conversation became easier as Francky became more confident with speaking English. He told me about his family, his brothers and sister. We touched on Teresa, his American girlfriend, who sadly passed away suddenly last year. She had a sick heart, he tells me.

We talked about his life, how he feels like his friends only ring him when they want a shoulder to cry on, and i asked him who he called when he needed comfort. He tells me he prefers to be on his own. He's seen three psychiatrists, one he didn't like, the second was too expensive and the third...well she was a pretty girl. Needless to say she became more than his psychiatrist! Francky asked about me and my life and I told him the watered down version. For some reason I don't like talking about myself that much.

We made good time and as the sun began to set we entered the beautiful city of Paris. I gazed out of the window at the Seine, and at the passers by, wondering why I hadn't come to visit sooner. We stopped in traffic and the Eiffel Tower illuminated as darkness descended on the city. The Tower started to do it's sparkly dance as a Country and Western song played on Francky's car stereo, "My baby left me and she stole my heart too".