My grandparent’s took my Dad and his sister’s there when they were kids too, and used to hang a towel out of the bedroom window of the house they stayed in each year so the kids knew it was time for lunch and to head home from the beach. How awesome is that? Then years later, when I was about 8, Grandma and Grandpa started taking my brother, sister and I every year too. We would always leave before dawn to miss the traffic, then stop on Dartmoor to see the wild horses and cook up some sausage sandwiches on the way.
When my Grandpa retired ten years ago, my grandparents made the move to Cornwall and now live about half an hour from St. Ives. Ever since, we’ve all traipsed down there with the addition of boyfriends and girlfriends, and eventually two teeny nephews.
For the whole family, going to St Ives is like going home. We know those cobbled streets like the back of our hands. New shops come and go, but the place never really changes. It’s the same today as it was when my Grandparent’s first took my Pa more than 40 years ago.
And this year, as we do every year, we’ll be packing the ingenious beach changing device my Grandma whipped up back in the 60s. This tubular towel has an elasticated hole in the top for your head and ensures you can whip off your swimming gear without an awkward exposè. Classic.
ps. that first picture is of my, my sis and bro on our first trip to St. Ives. I can't decide whose outfit I love the most!