Newquay - New Life?

Hello-Hello, 

Seven-and-a-bit hours on the road, most of it in traffic and I was glad to seeing signs for Newquay. But as we bid farewell to our driver AKA Mr. Warehouse's cousin and uncle, the boyfriend and I prepared ourselves for the hell that could be awaiting us in the hotel we booked - Berties Lodge, Newquay! The reviews had not been kind, some of them utterly hilarious, but all with distasteful comments. One person had written that "After a long and sleepless night, we were happy to find a sea view (if we craned our necks), and that we wasn't murdered in our sleep." although this review was entitled: Have stayed in nicer crack-dens. I have enclosed the link - Trust me you'll be wetting yourself by the end as was I and understandably you can understand how I was shitting myself so much for checking-in. 

Reading on the website that we had to check in at the neighbouring hotel, we thought it was odd but continued. Walking into the typical 17th Century building, Mr. Warehouse and I marvelled at the beauty the Hotel Victoria had to offer and begrudged all the people that were residing there all in the knowledge we would soon be in our 'not-so-nice crack-den'. Talking with the Receptionist, a young girl I have since made friends with, she explained that for one reason or another (to which I am still not sure why) mine and Mr. Warehouse's room had been transferred over to the gorgeous Hotel Victoria. Looking at each other we were stunned and had to check that everything was correct with the young reception girl several times to help us believe the luck we had again. Booking hotels had always seemed to end well for myself and Mr. Warehouse including the under-thirty-quid hotel room we booked in west London our first weekend away together near Christmas a couple of years back. Or even last year at the wedding we went to in Wisbech. I booked a hotel on the outskirts of the town only for the fact it was cheap and had a pool and spa area however when we arrived, we ended up in a beautiful Apartment-Suite with a balcony and all because our room had suffered a flood the evening before. Upgrades seem to come naturally to us when we book and clearly our trip to Newquay was also something of a little win!

Checking into the room and dropping our stuff off we headed straight out to join the Bride and her family down here in a local Taverna for some drinks. Cider flowing and Chocolate cake on order, talk soon turned to whose wedding was next and what a surprise it was Mr. Warehouse and I that were in the firing line. 
"Maybe we should just tackle one wedding at a time, shall we?!" I said, looking at Mr. Warehouse for advice. Unfortunately all I got was a smirk but soon enough the Bride came over and introduced herself as Mr. Warehouse's Cousin, soon to be married tomorrow. The subject soon turned to Newquay and what a wonderful place both her and her Husband-to-be live. Although what happened next was a slight shock to say the least. 
"You should move down here" the Bride said, seeming enthusiastic. Mr. Warehouse looked my way with a considering look in his eyes and I answered his assuming gaze with something about getting a job and finding work down here. 
"Hey man, I work in warehouse, I could easily find you a job tomorrow!" the Bride answered chirpily. 
"But what about a house? The rent must be extortionate around here, and buying a home in the future - Forget it!" I replied. 
"Well, our rent is £450 per month for a one-bedroom maisonette, less than five minutes from the beach. House prices are not as crazy as you may think, with a standard three-bed-semi setting you back around £185,000" the Bride came back with. 

Mr. Warehouse looked at me. I looked at him. The weather was nicer (at least at that point anyway). The beach looked lovely. Roxy would love the long walks on the shoreline and for sand to be in between her paws in the final years of her life. House prices I knew already were not too bad since looking in the Estate Agents window on the way to the Taverna so home wise it would be not so bad. School places wouldn't be as sizable as they are up north and the cost of living was about the same anywhere you go now in England. The only deal clincher really would be my salary as I would refuse to move for the same or less money I am on now. And 100% I would need to drive. We had barely been in Cornwall a couple of hours and already they were trying to make us stay but I knew that as I looked at Mr. Warehouse's lit-up face we would be having a long discussion about it at some point over the weekend. 

After a long beach walk with Mr. Warehouse and his other cousin that we drove down with, Saturday morning came and with the alarms we got dressed and headed out for breakfast, finally settling on a good old 'spoons brekkie. A long day ensued with all the trimmings you would expect from a wedding; A nervous groom, a beautiful bride, tear-rendering speeches and some oddly-attired guests. All in all though it was such a wonderful day and the weather, thank goodness held out for the happy couple. Myself and Mr. Warehouse took care of his little nephew until that it it was time to head to the reception venue to watch the newly-wed's dance the night away. 

Soon enough though Sunday morning arrived and with it came the rain. Oh Jesus fucking Christ the rain. It rained and rained and rained and rained. All. Day. Long. So we did what all British people do in the rain. Walk around aimlessly and grumble that there is nothing to do. After paying over a tenner each to get into what was advertised as an aquarium but was more like a large garden centre, we spent the next half-hour peering into tanks whilst avoiding snotty children and prams galore. I mean why on heaven or earth would you bring a small baby to an aquarium. What need does a seventeen-month-old have to see a pufferfish or black-tipped-shark? Nevertheless we headed reluctantly back to the hotel and spent the afternoon watching films and planning what to do tomorrow if the weather was equally shite. 

Before ordering a Chinese supper I spent some long moments exploring the winding halls and long Shining-esk corridors on Sunday. An old styled grey building, the Hotel Victoria looks out over the Atlantic Ocean and has many, many reception rooms to explore including a well-maintained lawn with pergola overlooking the sea, perfect for weddings. A plush and cosy orangery/conservatory also looks out across the lawn and beautiful views of the horizon something I cant help think must look incredible with the sunrise or sunset. A grand ballroom follows through from the glass walls of the orangery/conservatory and includes a dance floor with an alien-like glitter ball and DJ booth included. Down some stair and across the room is a bar area which would have probably been the Drawing Room originally and includes yet more wooden fixtures and fittings as well as a large bar and comfy looking couches and sofa's. Through the brass and dark-wooden Reception including original revolving entrance door and spiralling staircase and across the elegant hallway corridor is a regal looking restaurant encompasses glittering chandeliers, sky-high ceilings and beautiful wooden furnishings. Down to the pool and spa areas I have not yet ventured but if I can find a swimming costume I shall inform you all of my findings. 

I listened as the young receptionist girl and hotel porter (whom himself looked haunting) told me of the tall tales the hotel had to tell. The hotel had been used in both the World Wars as a Hospital for injured soldiers and some could even be seen still wandering the halls looking for release from Purgatory. The creepy porter explained in detail how the Hotel's kitchen was used as a operating theatre during this period. The young girl had explained later on that on some lonely nights on the reception desk she had heard footsteps and opening and closing of doors which had been backed-up by several residents over the years. She had said she has seen shadows on the second floors and that "its" presence felt like a women in a full gown since she could hear the swish of the dress and soft footsteps of a lady. 
"Have you been up to the third floor? Do you know why there is now a wall and windows where their should be staircase spindles?" The Porter asked. I shook my head but clearly enthusiastic to hear what was up there, I waited for the answer. Both the Porter and the Receptionist then explained how the owners wife had met her death. She had been up to the third floor and was looking out the windows across what was the grasslands, now the main street of Newquay. She took a trip on some carpet probably and fell the three storeys to the Reception below, killing her. Intrigued I returned to the room and have felt an eerie but benevolent feeling of relaxation since hearing those tales, something in all fairness I had felt since entering the hotel on Friday evening yet somehow seem more so now after hearing these stories in the walls.

As yesterday today, has been much the same weather. Mr. Warehouse and I had planned to visit the infamously haunted jail in the neighbouring town, Bodmin, however with only a few coaches a day going there, we had not booked in advance so our return journey was not guaranteed. With the weather still crappy, I stormed off in a hump, that was until Mr. Warehouse and I headed into the arcades to get out of the rain. Me and the other half had been collecting all the loose change and the odds and sods of coins from each others wallets over the last few months, putting everything 20p and under into a plastic jar to use on our next trip to the arcades. Not counting how much was there we emptied it out onto a glass-topped games machine and proceeded to count it out into pennies, two-pennies, five-pennies, ten-pennies and twenty-penny coins. Playing alongside together for more than an hour we decided to cash in the tickets we had accumulated and see what sort of naff prize we could get. Since he was so excitable, I let him cash in the tickets for something he wanted - A Spiderman cereal bowl. I suppose the fact that soon, once the weather had picked up, Mr. Warehouse had promised me he would accompany me on a Horse-riding hack along the shore, which for me was a romantic gesture I was bemused with, at least for now anyway. 

After the weather brightened up this afternoon, Mr. Warehouse and I took an exhilarating boat ride out into the Atlantic ocean, all in the hope of seeing some seals, dolphins, exotic fish and maybe even a Basking shark. We did not see any of those, but we nearly saw what Mr. Warehouse had for breakfast. Safely back on dry land, tonight is our last night so as I finish up my blog this week I will take Mr. Warehouse for a walk later on around the hotel as I did on yesterday's rainy afternoon. That is if he is still awake ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx