St Agnes' Head, Cornwall

When I visit Cornwall, my first tradition is to leap down the grassy bank to the edge of St Agnes' Head, lightly skip across the granite rocks and plonk myself down in a favourite corner at the end of this peninsula, while-away a few hours contemplating the universe, quantum physics, why men need to wear ties, Jeremy Corbyn and the intricate design of manhole covers, ... Theresa May and why her first name is impossible to pronounce by my Spanish students, before gently sauntering back uphill having taken 2 or three photos. A pint or two of bitter and a packet of dry-roasted in the Victory Inn at Towans Cross and I am a pig in clover.
In three weeks time time ... Please!