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I've a friend who corresponds back and forth with me online, for the past few weeks. Discussing our own locales, he sent me photos of where he lives in Cornwall, (you know, below Wales, the extreme tip of England). I was frankly amazed because he'd been describing what he does in Summer, and it's Surfing. He lives in St.Ives, but apparently, there are indeed 'surfing championships' a stone's throw away in Newquay. The photos of waves, (not Malibu or Maui in height), but sizeable enough for surfing was a genuine surprise to me. The beaches in Newquay in the photos he sent 'LOOK' like something you'd see in oh, The Canary Islands, right Tall Guy?
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St ives and newquay, the scenery is very picturesque and impressive.
However one year in 90s my mate heard from his boss who had holidayed there that Newquay was "rammed with totty," so - both recently single at the time - me and mate set off in the car to stay there for a few days. We did an overnight drive (about 5 poxy hours) and kipped in the car from about 4am. But on arrival in the morning Newquay was strangely deserted. Not only no women, but not a soul about. I mean it, fkn tumbleweed blowing down the road, shutters banging in the wind, desolate.
We saw a bloke at the bus stop and my mate asked him why town was so empty? Had there been a virus wipe everyone out?
"No," he laughed. "Season is over. Closed now till April. You shoulda been here last weekend for the British surfing championships...it was rammed with totty!!!"
Ended up drove to devon for the night and came home.
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