I’m in Cornwall. I am very much not alone. Last weekend the news channels were gleefully reporting that there were more people here than in London.
Our drive here — admittedly from Edinburgh — took 14 hours. There were 2,500 cars in the car park at Harlyn Bay, a very popular north coast beach on Monday morning. I have never seen so many Land Rover Discoverys in one place.
I spent an hour on the phone before we left Scotland, trying to book a dinner reservation. I finally scored a table at a not-quite-on-the-sea place in a south coast village. At 5pm. For an hour. Prices are following demand. A surfing lesson for seven? £380. Coffee and croissant for 3? £21. “Hamptons prices,” gasped an impressed New York friend.
A boat dealer friend in Cornwall usually has 100 boats for sale on their books. Today, anything listed goes in a day. I suspect my friend of very little, possibly no, exaggeration.
Two bedroom flats in our village are on the market for nearly £400,000. I’m old enough to remember when you could buy a house here for the price of a Harlyn Bay…
