An ancient monument to start the day. No not myself or my travelling companion but Chysauster village, which was inhabited for about two hundred years, two thousand years ago. This was just in case we hadn’t already had enough of steep slopes and uneven paths, as the village is in a prominent hill-top location. The climb is made worthwhile by the impressive views and as the glorious weather continues, we can almost see from coast to coast. I have been here before but I am not sure we actually got to the village then. I know we found the fogou as there is photographic evidence but that may have been it. In those days it was an unattended free site, with no interpretation boards beyond a metal sign saying ‘fogou’ and no arrows to the village above. What is a fogou? I hear you ask. You did ask didn’t you? If only I, or indeed anyone else, knew. It is an underground passageway of unknown function, possibly for storage or, alternatively, it may have had a ritual function.

A Fogou

Chysauster itself is a group of stone houses, which were home to 50-70 people, who were perhaps involved in the tin trade. It reminds us of the time we spent in the Neolithic era. One of the roofless houses was used by itinerant Methodist preachers in the nineteenth century. The congregation must have been pretty dedicated to slog all the way up here, as there are not many settlements in the vicinity.

We drive down into Penzance and secure the last parking space in Penlee Park. We are here to listen to my friend Liz Shakespeare talk about her book The Postman Poet. This is not just any book as it features my kitchen in a cameo role. We share a pleasant lunch in the sunny park afterwards, then relax (that word again) in the park to wait for evening. Had it been less cozy, we might have walked down to the centre of Penzance but we decide against this. The evening treat is an open-air concert by Fisherman’s Friends. Open-air and England can be a dodgy combination but we could not have had better weather for it. Being somewhat of a chilly mortal, I have come armed with socks, trousers and fleeces but I am able to survive without any of these extra layers, as we listen to shanties and other songs of the sea.