Looe 4

I have slept on the sofa. The details of why this happened are vague and shrouded in alcohol, but in essence Kate says I said something I shouldn’t have in a tone she didn’t appreciate and she stormed off to bed without me. The dog and I slept where we were. It was actually more comfortable than the bedroom, and the noise of the seagulls was less invasive. I might try it with a different pillow tonight.

At 7.30am, Sid and I go up to bed. He bounces all over Kate. She complains. I take his attention away from her by offering him my knuckles to chew. He accepts.

Jack is returning to London today and he and Hattie head off for a last breakfast together. Meanwhile, Kate takes a shower and Sid destroys the fireplace, picking up shells one by one and dropping them on the living room floor.

We drive to Padstow, or Padstein as it is known by some because of the number of premises owned by celebrity chef and local restaurateur Rick Stein. As we approach the town, there’s a large sign for a park and ride scheme. ‘Let’s park here,’ I say. ‘Let’s not,’ says Kate. We drive into Padstow. All the car parks are displaying ‘full’ signs. ‘We should have parked at the park and ride,’ I say. She doesn’t say it often but these words pass Kate’s lips: ‘You’re right.’

I drop my passengers on the thronged streets and drive back to the car park. I then take the park and ride bus back into town. I have suggested the Chip Ahoy fish and chip shop as a rendezvous point. Kate and Co have gone wandering and there is no sign of them, so I pop into the chip shop and order a cheese and onion pasty and chips. Not because I’m particularly hungry but because I have to do something to pass the time. I emerge from the shop with my meal. A herring gull fixes me with a determined stare, daring me to eat the food without sharing a morsel or three with him. They really should be called pasty gulls, since pasties have probably overtaken herring as their staple diet.

We walk to the beach. Sid is flagging – it is hard wearing a fur coat in this weather – and we sit on the sand for a few minutes admiring the much more impressive beach across the inlet. Rock, favoured playground of the well to do set some years ago, is almost in touching distance. But it’s probably seen hard times in more recent years and is no doubt now filled with tattoo parlours. Offering tattoos based on one’s coat of arms, of course.

Back in Looe, we watch the World Cup semi final. It’s not enjoyable, because the English performance is nervy and the stakes are high. And we lose. It’s not coming home. Still, the boys done good. At some point in the evening, Sid has weed on the England flag. He must have known how the game was going to go.