Never before has peace and relaxation been so necessary. Detoxing from the hideous things which are going on in the world helps to generate hope and new life.
What is the point of going on holiday if you have to be in constant touch with the office?
Holiday is a time to get away.
Millook offers the rare pleasure of peace and quiet. No traffic noise. No blue light from a router constantly reminding you of the world back home.
At Millook Water we have resisted wifi. This is deliberate.
There is rarely mobile signal. (Some say you can get signal at high tide.)
This is all a cause for panic in children. The misery lasts for a few hours, but thereafter something magical happens: they discover the stream and that it can be dammed. They discover the beach with its rockpools, fish, crabs and lobsters (be patient!).
Most amazingly, they discover their parents and realise they are human and can talk.
The evenings turn into times of chat and fun, card games and board games. We have loads of board games and puzzles in the cupboards.
Rainy days, and the discovery of books. Books for children, books for adults; novels and ghost stories; books on wildlife and books of poetry; dictionaries, books of quotations, encyclopedias. There are plenty of books at Millook Water, including the visitors’ books going back years. Have a look below at this recent extract:
And this:
And this:
This just 3 of many hundreds of similar comments. We are reassured every time we go to Millook. Our visitors have always said the same things since 1957 when I came here as a boy of four.
Here is a short story I wrote. I hope you enjoy it.
THE REBOOT
Mike and Alison were a happy couple: married, two kids, one dog and, somewhere, a cat. Your average family.
Holidays were a special time for Alison. She loved them more than any other time. And, since it was New Year, it was time to start planning the summer holidays. The internet provided ample opportunities for the Greek islands, Spain, the Canaries. Murchison Holidays recommended especially the island of Kos. Mike considered Kos. It was great deal which Murchison were offering, but he rejected it pretty quickly because the name reminded him of Cos lettuce, any lettuce which he loathed. ‘Tasteless and pointless.’ he would say.
‘What about Crete?’ Alison asked Mike. ‘We’ve not done Crete before.’
‘Nah,’ he said, slightly bored. ‘they’re all much of a muchness, those islands. What about somewhere different, a bit off the beaten track?’
‘There’s always the Canaries. Bang in the middle of the ocean. I love that idea. Like a ship at sea, eh?’
‘Well, ok, have a look.’ he murmured without brimming with enthusiasm.
And so Mike and Alison Heath booked a holiday through Ace Jets for four to Gran Canaria at just over £2500 for the four of them; flying from East Midlands Airport at 10am on Sunday 6 August.
‘Four and a half hours. That’s a hell of a long time cooped up in a plane.’ said Mike.
‘Yes, but it’ll be worth it. Wall to wall sunshine, long sandy beaches, loads of food and booze, and tons of things for the kids.’
Friday August 4th arrived and went in a flurry of bag-packing and panic.
At precisely 9.03am on Saturday August 5th, Mike’s phone pinged, and so did Alison’s. They both opened an eye and glanced at their phones. Mike saw it was from Ace Jet Holidays, so he mumbled something about booking confirmations. Alison agreed, rolled over and said ‘Hols. Summer hols. I love ‘em.’ She drifted back into nomansland.
But she couldn’t sleep. She was excited by the whole hols idea. She jumped out of bed and looked at her phone.
The message of the cancelled flight caused a certain amount of chaos in the family. Alison shouted ‘NO!’ so many times that it became a bit of a farce. Soon, she was numbed to virtual extinction; the children went awfully quiet. Gemma, the older child at fourteen, black hair hid her face, went smartly to her room, shut herself in, and went into a frenzy of messaging. Josh was nine and really did not understand what was going on, but certainly was downcast. He did not really know why he was downcast, but he went to his laptop and started playing the latest murderous video game.
By ten o’clock, Alison had just about composed herself and found the best remedy for panic was in things domestic. ‘What about some coffee and breakfast?
‘Yeah, I suppose so. I’ll call the kids.’ Mike called, but answer came there none. Josh was totally congested with his laptop, and Gemma was now on social media weeping bitter teenage tears; the whole world was going to know about this.
The morning passed oh so slowly. By lunchtime, the mania had subsided into resentment. Ace Jets weren’t answering any calls (‘We’re experiencing a high volume of calls, and will answer your call as soon as possible). It was Saturday, so their insurers were closed until Monday; the company which guaranteed their travel plans answered with a message saying that they were aware of the problem and were ‘on the case’.
‘Oh, God,’ said Alison slapping down her phone ‘Will nobody answer me?’
In the end, she put on her sensible hat, and prepared salad without lettuce.
Gemma had lunch in Gemma’s room. After lunch, Alison announced she had been scouring the internet for holidays here in England. ‘There aren’t many cottages available, but I’ve bookmarked a couple which might dig us out of this mess.’ She went on to explain that a cottage for four on the South Devon coast was available at £1990 a week; and one in Cornwall had had a cancellation next week. ‘It’s only just over a thousand pounds.’ she said with some pride.
Mike said ‘Hang on. We’ve just lost two and a half thousand on this Ace Jet mess. Where does the next lot of thousands come from?’
This question hung unanswered in the air.
Josh looked up. Trying to sound grown-up, he agreed it was worth looking at.
Gemma commented bitterly from her room ‘There won’t be a pool, and the nearest town will be five hundred miles away.’
‘And hardly tuna fishing in the Med’ added Josh helpfully.
‘Will you both stop?’ demanded Alison. Mike said ‘I suppose it’s worth looking at. So where does the dosh come from?’ Alison mumbled into her glass, and half said something about a Savings Plan, and said she’d talk about it later.
Mike started to warm to the idea of the Cornish cottage. He even got excited with the idea of fishing off a Cornish beach: pollack, mackerel, hmmm! He ran, no, galloped, upstairs, got the loft ladder, climbed up, found his fishing rod and gear and brought it all down.
The next morning was lazy Sunday. They should have got to Gran Canaria by now, but everyone had given in and accepted it.
‘FRUIT! YOGHURT! GRANOLA!’ Alison shouted upstairs. Gemma sloped down in a sort of dressing gown and a grump. Her hair was swept back (she wanted to show off her misery) her face was neutral and grey and not pretty. Josh slopped down in shorts and trainers. It was all a bit quiet. ‘At least we can pretend we’re abroad.’ Alison said. Mike added ‘Maybe a Cornish cottage is just what we need. I, for one, think it’s not a bad idea.’
After breakfast they trooped to Mike’s office at the other end of the house and looked at the website for Raven’s Cottage near Tintagel. It certainly looked pretty nice. Alison even gasped when she saw the golden sandy beaches nearby. Even Gemma put down her phone and looked at the pictures.
‘I want the little room.’ said Josh.
‘We’ll see about that when we get there.’ said sensible Mike.
And that was the clincher; the statement which defined the decision to go to Raven’s Cottage: ‘We’ll see about that when we get there.’
From then on the progress was like a steamroller: unstoppable. Alison got in touch with the owner by email, and asked about the cancellation in August.
‘Yes, the cancellation. It is still available. Sad circumstances in the family. But it is soon – next week beginning Saturday 12th August.’
Could you tell me what last-minute deals you are offering?’
The answer came back almost by return. ‘I can offer you £50 off the prices quoted on the website for 12-19 August.’
‘Fifty pounds is hardly a fortune.’ Mike said in his standard and slightly negative way.
‘But it’s better than a clout with a hammer. Let’s consider it, at least.’
The diary had come attached to the same email. Raven’s Cottage seemed pretty booked up for the whole year. ‘This is a good sign.’ Alison said.
‘Or maybe he’s just filled it up with fake bookings, ’Just wants to make it look as if it’s terribly busy,’ Mike countered ‘and in fact it’s empty most of the time.’
‘Killjoy.’
They all agreed they should book up that cancellation. Alison emailed and asked to book Raven’s Cottage. An invoice and a letter of booking came; the whole amount was due straight away; Alison sent the money by BACS; further details came about directions and how to gain access; a brochure came showing interesting things to do and places to eat. It all looked alright.
The days passed; Friday arrived; the packing happened not quite so furiously as last week. Alison had scanned the net for further interesting places. And off they went on Saturday down the M5.
The traffic congestion was bloody and the heat in the car was hideous. It took seven and a half hours from Ludlow to Tintagel. Gemma did not even notice – she was too busy on her phone telling everyone the latest unsordid graphic details of her life. Even Josh had gone onto Social Media and told all the burglars in the world where he was going.
As they were nearing their destination, the landscape changed from the monotony of trunk roads into undulating countryside on ever smaller roads. If anybody in the car had cared, they would have noticed browning grass and stubble fields. As it was, they were all too keen to wind up the windows and listen to thump-thump music on the playlist. Only Alison took an interest in anything outside the car. She spotted a strange bird hovering over some long grass; she saw a milky cloud; she saw the sea. ‘Look, kids! The sea! Swimming tomorrow. Maybe surfing if we can hire some boards.’
Nobody spoke.
It was all going to be alright really, thought Alison. They’ll love the place and the beach will be glorious.
They found Raven’s Cottage. It was near the end of the village, was painted white, had old-fashioned windows and shallow slate steps up to the front door. Mike got the key from the keysafe and opened the door with a flourish. ‘Welcome to Raven’s Cottage.’ he said loudly like an estate agent. They entered through a porch, went into the lounge/diner and stopped dead.
‘It’s wonderful!’ exclaimed Alison.
‘Exactly my sentiments.’ From Mike. ‘What do you two think?’
‘Not bad at all.’ said Josh, really quite excited.
Gemma had to agree that it was ok. They looked out of the enormous picture window to the sea as the sun was starting to set.
‘Right, let’s get the stuff out of the car. Gemma, you put the kettle on for a cup of tea. Josh, you find the little room, and bag it before your sister does.’
‘Don’t even worry.’ Said Gemma. ‘I can see my room over there with the twin beds. That’ll do me fine.’ She forgot to put the kettle on, so Alison did.
The kettle was boiling, the dog was fed and happy, the suitcases were more or less unpacked. Supper – Spag Bol cooked yesterday – was warming. All was good.
Mike stated the necessary obvious ‘Well, I think we’re all fine, aren’t we?’
Gemma came out of her room actually smiling. She liked the place. Josh had stashed all his stuff in a heap in the cupboard. He came out sucking on a thick, sweet, sickly something-or-other.
‘Oh, come on Josh! Put it away, and don’t let your mother see. She’ll go mad.’
Gemma asked where the wi-fi code was. Mike said he’d have a look in the Housebook which he had spotted on the sideboard. He fetched it and flicked through the pages. He looked under ‘COMMUNICATIONS’ but didn’t find the code there. So he looked under ‘MOBILE SIGNAL’ There was his answer: ‘There is sometimes a little mobile signal at Raven’s Cottage. If you go to the sea, you will pick up a signal on the beach. At Raven’s Cottage, we have resisted the internet.’
He wondered how he was going to break this news to the children. But he had no time to wonder.
‘Where’s the wi-fi code then?’ asked Gemma.
Mike didn’t murmur; he didn’t mumble or fumble. ‘There isn’t any wi-fi, Gemma.’
‘Joke.’ Gemma said, phone in hand, ready to punch in numbers.
‘No joke, Gemma. There is no wifi.’
‘Well, it needs connecting. The router needs switching on.’
‘No, you don’t get it. There is NO WIF-FI!’
There was a silence. Mike put down the housebook; Gemma couldn’t summon up any words; Josh came in and said ‘Did you find the wi-fi code?’
Gemma turned round, marched to her room, slammed the door (remember, she was fourteen), and Mike had to explain to Josh the problem.
‘Come here, little man.’ Mike said calmly. Josh came closer. ‘Sit down.’
Josh sat and waited. Mike drew breath.
‘Josh, you are nine, nearly ten years old and growing fast. Soon you will be in the world of grown-ups. And I’m going to ask you to be very grown-up when I tell you what I’ve got to say…… You see, Josh, your Mum booked this holiday without reading all the details. But it’s just as much my fault. I should’ve read all the details as well. And we’re both idiots. You see, the reason this rental cottage is a bit cheaper than the others is because it doesn’t have the internet. And I’m sure there’s a good reason, but I can’t for the life of me, think what that reason is.’
‘Oh.’
‘So this means you won’t get much joy out of your laptop.’
‘Oh.’
‘ Why don’t you go and wash your hands before we have a meal? Found the bathroom yet?’
‘Yeah.Ok.’
Josh went off quietly. Mike heaved a sigh of relief as Alison came in to announce supper was ready. Spag Bol and a nice salad.
The parents sat down at the table. They both called the children again. Sitting round a table was something they never did at home. At home, Mike and Alison ate together in front of the telly, Gemma would lock herself away with her phone and would stay there; Josh always took himself to the other end of the house and glued himself to games.
Alison called for Gemma. Nothing. She called again. It sounded like an explosion, but it was only Gemma bursting out of her bedroom, shouting obscenities, going back in and slamming the door again. Josh crept sheepishly into the room and sat down at the square table next to his Dad.
Alison got up quietly and knocked at Gemma’s door.
‘Go away, pigs.’ she screamed.
Alison went away and sat down again. ‘I’m afraid I’ve blown it. I realise I didn’t read the blurb right. And I’m paying for it big time.’
‘ Not just you, Alison. Both of us. I didn’t even to begin to read the small print. And we can’t check now ‘cos there’s no bloomin’ internet.’
‘And not even a telly’ added Alison pointlessly.
Josh, meanwhile, had started his meal and looked up to say, ‘How far is the sea?’
‘Thank God,’ whispered Mike ‘I think it’s only about five minutes away. And we’re going there first thing in the morning. Before breakfast. And before the rest of the world is even awake.’
‘That’s the best idea I’ve heard. You go, and I’ll get brekky on.’
‘You’re on,’ said Josh.
Mike knocked on Gemma’s door again. ‘GO AWAY!’
Mike went away. Alison put a portion of Spag Bol in a bowl’ She put salad on a plate, and took them to the kitchen where she put them on a tray with a can of Coke. ‘She’ll creep out when we’re in bed.’
‘Like Father Christmas on a summer holiday.’
The next morning was already sunny and warm. Mike yawned, stretched, eased himself out of bed, let the dog out, put the kettle on and made two cups of tea.
They both sat up in bed contemplating the day ahead, a bit with lovely anticipation, a bit with dread.
Josh got up, looked outside, saw the blue sea, and ran into the parents’ room. ‘Have you seen the sea. Wow!’
Mike got out of bed and went into the sitting room. Glinting in the distance was the perfect blue of the sea.
‘Can we go there now, pleeease? You promised we’d go before breakfast’
‘Let Dad finish his tea at least.’ said Alison cheerfully. It was a long time ago that Mike had seen her smile.
Tea was done, Mike was up, trainers went on and the dog shouted as they went out into the garden. All three half-ran down the lane and got to the sea in about two minutes. It smelled of summer.
They went down to the water’s edge and Mike showed Josh how to skim flat stones. Josh clambered over the rocks, slipped, dropped a foot in a pool and yanked it out quickly. ‘Keep away, crabs!’ he screamed, and then laughed.
They walked back up the hill to Raven’s Cottage. Alison had breakfast on (the Spag Bol had indeed disappeared). Gemma’s room was as quiet as the grave. ‘I’m going to let her sleep on. She can get up in her own time, and that’s fine.’
Breakfast happened and a shopping list was prepared. Camelford had a Co-op.
Alison said she was totally happy to do the shopping, so Mike and Josh marched back to the sea while Alison waited patiently for Gemma.
‘Shopping? On holiday? Boring.’ were Gemma’s first words as she emerged wrapped in a duvet.
‘It’s got to be done some time today. The others are on the beach. You could join them, if you like.’
‘I don’t know where the beach is.’ in a yumpy voice.
Alison was tempted to mention the sea was the blue thing at the end of the lane, but she just said, ‘I’ll drop you off at the beach.’
This happened. Gemma could see two dots in the distance just out on the rocks. She started walking across the grey pebbles. It was difficult in her snaky fashionable shoes, but she managed. Halfway along, she spotted something white and glistening. She bent down to pick it up. It was a round white stone with glistening crystals all around it. She studied it from all angles and pocketed it.
She reached the two others in ten more minutes. Mike greeted her warmly. Josh said, ‘Look what I’ve found!’ It was a snail shell with swirling blue and green. ‘That’s nothing,’ sneered Gemma. ‘Look at this stone. Bet you’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Ah, that is quartz. It forced its way up through the other rocks and formed the white veins you see in the stones. Yours was from a particularly thick vein which broke away and has been rounded and polished by the waves’
‘It’s nice. I’m going to keep it.’
They pottered around the rocks and saw prawns and small fish in the pools. They saw anemones – green and red – and they all saw a lobster swimming around at the bottom of a deep pool. That did it. Gemma got excited and said, ‘Let’s catch it and cook it.
They didn’t catch it, but they spent the rest of the morning among the rockpools looking for limpets and sea slugs and Heaven knows what.
At half past twelve, they noticed a change in the water. The tide was coming in and filling up the pools. Further along the bay, the waves were already breaking on the pebbles with a whoosh.
‘Well, we’d better head on back. I reckon Mum will be back and gasping for a cider.’
She was indeed back, and when they met up, Josh could not contain his excitement. Gemma even joined in, and talked knowledgably about the quartz stone.
They fetched Alison’s cider; Mike got a beer. They all traipsed down the steps to the stream and sat on the pub-style table.
Josh: ‘Let’s dam the stream!’
Gemma: ‘Mind the eels don’t bite!’
Mike: ‘They’ll run away from anything ugly.’
Josh: ‘Ha.’
And indeed, the afternoon was spent damming the stream. It was effective: a pool started to form behind the dam. The water level rose. The dog sploshed around and shook over them.
‘Aieee!’ screamed Gemma.
‘Aaargh, cold’ shouted Josh.
‘Dad, come and help us. Get some earth and plug the holes!’
‘Gemma found some Herb flowers and placed them on top of the dam.’
‘Lovely.’ said Alison.
Afternoon turned to evening. The steak on the barbecue was first class. They all ate together outside. A fox on the hill opposite entertained them. The children had never seen a real fox. It was exciting.
After supper, they went inside. Alison had found a jigsaw puzzle of a Buzzard on a tree branch. They all joined in doing the edge of the puzzle. It got late. It was bedtime for everyone.
In bed, Mike said, ‘The phone hasn’t been mentioned.’
‘Shh! Quiet! She can hear us through these walls.’
The following morning was Sunday. Rain had moved in, the wind was up, so they had to tog up and go for a dogwalk in the wet. Gemma was mumbly and said, ‘ ‘Suppose I’d better come. I hate rain.’
Off they trogged into the woods and Mike found a path under the trees. He admitted after twenty minutes he was lost. ‘Great!’ said Josh, smiling. ‘Great.’ Said Gemma, sneering.
They found their way back, collapsed in chairs, had some lunch, and wondered what to do. Josh found a book about dinosaurs. Gemma found one about snakes. Mike picked up a Dan Brown, and Alison a Maeve Binchy. The afternoon wore on, the clouds lifted, the rain stopped. The children went to look at the dam.
‘OMG.’cried Gemma.
‘Now we’ll have to rebuild it.’
‘Not while the water is so high. It’s dangerous.’
They went for another walk to the beach. The waves were roaring in on a high tide. The sea was angry.
‘This is great.’ said Gemma. She had dropped her guard.