Girls gone mild in Cornwall

Such is the life of a jetsetter - we're just back from four days in Istanbul but that blog post will have to wait - because four days before that I went to Cornwall. And first thing's first.

Tor and I had been talking about a girls weekend for months - one that would conveniently coincide with beery weekends away for the other halves. And besides, we figured, all four of us have been to Cornwall before so the guilt about going again was basically negligible. And I mean really, what self-regarding boy wants to spend a weekend in bucolic surrounds by the ocean eating great food with a library of tabloids to read, pink wine to drink, gossip to extol and an idyllic eco spa to exploit?

Watergate Bay, Cornwall

With its indoor pool, outdoor pool, ocean views, cliff-top log-fired seaweed baths, reading rooms, quiet rooms and four kinds of mood lighting, our stay at The Scarlet could have been very romantic. We opted for restive. Tor's stretch of creative, exhausting brilliance is well documented and my own recent bout of busy has been equal parts enervating, exhilarating and life sucking so a bit of quiet time with the best kind of friend was heaven sent and not soon enough.

Tor and I have known each other for over a decade now. We met doing a production of The Women at university - the only time I have ever and will ever sing in public but more than that it was the start of three of my greatest friendships with some of the most enduringly fabulous women I've ever known. Tor and I played a number of minor role between us, some of them - lushes, bitches, gossips and drama queens - not a huge dramatic stretch but that early method acting has served us well over the years as we've ratcheted up a number of exploits and adventures. And it's been such a special thing to have had Tor and The Hungry One in London these last two years. Not least because we've got to do things like, you know, go to Cornwall for a weekend.

Fifteen, Watergate Beach

We flew down to Newquay on Saturday morning and after checking in to the hotel at Mawgan Porth, an efficient 10 minute drive from the airport, we headed to Watergate Bay in search of sand and something to eat. The original Fifteen restaurant, Jamie Oliver's baby, overlooks Watergate Beach and it's a superlative spot for lunch. Charming staff, an overwhelming antipasto platter and a cheeky glass of wine at 12.02pm after a sunny amble across the wind-whipped beach. Heaven.

Meandering back to the hotel via the very sweet village of St Mawgan, the afternoon was spent reading and napping before an exquisite meal at Jon's Bistro at Bre-Pen Farm. Beyond licking the plates, we had an interesting discussion about the delightful contrariness of a world class meal served on a green and white polka dot laminated tablecloth.

Bre-Pen Farm, Mawgan Porth, Cornwall

Tor wasn't completely convinced but I thought the unpretentious easiness was a key charm ingredient. By day the bistro is a successful farm shop selling cheeses, chutneys and cuts of meat. Chickens loiter by the door and ceramic brooches by local artisans sell for £5 a pop from a small wicker basket next to the bread display. It's so delightful. The bistro only seats 18 so it's a very easy, easy-going, space to eat in, like being in someone's kitchen - where the kitchen is world class. It was such a good meal, and such ridiculous value at £20 for three courses. Tor's considered response to the feast is here.

After dinner we headed back to the hotel and were in bed asleep by 10pm. #hardcore

The breakfast view, The Scarlet, Cornwall

Sunday started with breakfast overlooking Mawgan Porth beach before an indulgent four hours at the spa, on a "journey" for those who speak spa. It began with a paddle in the miso-esque log-fired seaweed bath out on the cliffs, before a snuggle in a hanging tent in the "relax room" eating a posh fruit salad with our fingers, before a nap-inducing two hour massage and then another nap in another womb-like hanging tent, this one replete with pillows and a blanket. We may have got the giggles once or twice - the first time when we both clambered into the tent in the silent relax room only for the chain suspending it from the roof to shriek under our collective un-co-ordinated weight. Not our most sophisticated moment.

Log fired seaweed bath by the natural outdoor pool

Shaking off the post-spa stupor we drove to St Merryn for a late lunch at Rick "philandering fishmonger" Stein's pub The Cornish Arms. Not much to write home about there but we enjoyed the drive - so much so we drove on to Padstow. We knew Padstow from our last visit but enjoyed a wander about and some cake before heading back to The Scarlet for an early dinner at the hotel's restaurant and a pajama party with Madonna and Geena and A League Of Their Own. It was an unapologetically perfect end to the day.

Padstow

And then on Monday, after a walk along the beach, we went to St Ives for cream tea and Tate. Last time I was in St Ives, with my Lovely Boy, we couldn't find the Tate, finally spotting it as we drove out of town, wondering, you know, what's that big white building by the beach? This time, it was closed for a re-hang. Clearly Tate St Ives and I are ne'er to meet. Thankfully I'm easily distracted and scones and jam make for a happy, calorific alternative to contemporary art. And then it was home.

beautiful Mawgan Porth Beach

St Ives harbour at low tide

It was a lovely end to a truly lovely weekend. Two nights felt like five and we had a breezy trip back to London where I returned to boxes of Belgian chocolate from Lovely Boy's trip across the pond. Thank you very much.

A faultless weekend with everything a girl needs for a marvellously mild weekend. Thanks darling Tor for your exemplary company. Where are we going next?

Town Tea Tate