Home. That’s exactly what this tiny fishing village on the south coast of Cornwall has become to me. Gone are the nomadic days of sitting on a suitcase at some terminal or other, with a forlorn look, wondering where it was I belonged.
Ever since I stepped over the threshold of my cottage in Mevagissey, I knew that I was home. It felt as though it had been waiting for me, and welcomed me like a Labrador wagging its tail. The cottage feels of friendliness, and smells of cherries and centuries of woodsmoke. Mornings there remind me that there is really nothing more pleasing than tea and toast (with marmalade, naturally!).
The sense of community in Mevagissey is overwhelming, and I have been made to feel so welcome here. It’s how life is meant to be. There really is no place like home.
