Bank holiday. Notorious for wet miserable weather punctuated with excess sugar and spending a little more than you really wanted.
Not this time. Easter brought with it blue skies that we had all but forgotten existed.
This isn't just bank holidaying. This is Cornwall bank holidaying. My first (bar Christmas) since I've moved here. Mother came to visit. The gloves were off - could I once and for all prove that the move was a less-than-hair-brained idea?
Mum arrived Thursday night - just in time for a quick jaunt around Truro, and apparently a good opportunity to duck in to experience a bit of religion Cathedral-style.
We immediately knew something was wrong. Yes, we'd inadvertently stumbled into one of the most important services in the Christian calendar - the Maundy Thursday service. It was hypnotic though. As a gold light swamped the congregation, the choir, the washing of feet, sermons and gold encrusted bibles were mesmeric.
At the point of having to respond to a good natured 'peace be with you' with an 'and with you' it was time to leave. Lest I be smitted for my religious naivety. My housemates later fell about with the idea that I might have offered an old man peace. What do they know?
Not to be defeated we awoke on Friday with fresh resolve - mum's a keen gardener - it was an easy choice.
National Trust Gardens at home are very beautiful - there's no denying the garden of England does flowers and grass very, very well.
But nothing that would quite beat the delights Trebah had to offer. With foliage that could only be described as a akin to tropical rainforest to rummage through, topped off with a sea-shore hat.
Our only complaint was we hadn't quite prepared well enough - it wouldn't have been a bad idea to spend an entire day exploring here, as we jealously eyed up picnics brought by those more seasoned to South Cornwall.
Next, we hit the shores of Falmouth - specifically, King Harry Ferry's Orca Safari. At the time of booking, I must admit I had visions of comfortable 58ft glass bottomed yacht with Whale-calling beacon and private dolphins. Well - why not?!
Of course, this wouldn't be the case, and as we clad ourselves in oversized overcoats and strapped ourselves into life jackets, I realised I'd misunderstood.
As I shoe horned mum over a straddle-seat on a 35ft RIB, she whispered out the side of her mouth 'who would have thought I'd be doing such a thing a month before my 60th?!'. Who indeed.
Panic struck in a little as we set off - teetering at the front of the boat. Nothing but my sunnies and the front 2ft of the boat between me and ocean.
Neptune - obviously impressed by my uncharacteristic religiousness of the day before - was smiling on us, as a mill-pond flat sea greeted us outside Falmouth Harbour. We spent the next 2 hours so delighted we felt we'd only been out 40 minutes and skipper Kiwi Matt had done some kind of Jedi mind trick on us.
Let’s cut to the chase - the only wildlife we saw were gannets, seagulls and a couple of very serious un-smiling Americans at the back of the boat.
But we also saw the coast of Cornwall as it should be viewed. Little villages and hamlets which look like they'd been places simply to make the scenery nicer for the boat-tripper - inlets, lighthouses, castles and beaches - it was Cornwall at its best, and I was so proud.
With Sunday spent on the glorious beaches of North Cornwall, the only disappointment was rain stopping play on the matinee performance at the Minack Theatre I'd booked, but we weren't disheartened. Cornwall had allowed us a bank holiday dreams are made of. Let’s hope we've got another one around the corner.
