Many years ago, my husband drove us around England, including Cornwall. We encountered our first ‘turnabout’, drove behind a herd of milking cows for many slow miles, stopped to eat lunch at a place that looked like it was out of Masterpiece Theater, and stopped for the night in Padstow at a hotel which, during WWII, had housed British nurses. The next day we traveled past empty tin mines, which was interesting, and this lovely cove, finally down to St. Ives. We didn’t meet the man with seven wives.
 
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