Penzance

The town I spend most time in at the moment is Penzance.  It's just a 10 minute drive away and is where my job is.

Penzance is the end of the line.  Literally.  The South-west trains go no further.  Apparently this means that quite a few people who are at the end of their tether wash up here.  Homeless, job-less, hope-less.  We met this guy who'd ended up in Cornwall and was ready to kill himself.   He had nowhere left to go.  Thankfully, in his case, he was rescued by a Jesus-loving, kind-faced mother and daughter.  The daughter is called Grace.  And he is still alive.

There are parts and people in Penzance that do seem kind of forgotten.  There's a lot of drinking and angry shouting.  Penzance isn't breath-taking pretty like the other town we live near: St Ives.  In a lot of ways it's a fairly average small market-y town with your New Look, Peacocks, Boots, Weatherspoons and Pound-stretcher, etc.  I often hear people dissing it.

But there's also loads of churches - one in particular with the most beautiful graveyard I've ever seen.  There's pretty parks and tropical gardens.  Dog-walkers galore.  There's the camp guy with pink and blue hair and two tiny dogs who walks past the cafe every day.  The lady with the the two Labradors.  There's hidden backstreets and tiny alleyways to explore.  Friendly faces in the the shops and cafes I've been in.  A sea-water swimming pool and St Michael's Mount hovering in the distance. There's palm tree studded driveways and tiny cottages.  Every corner reveals a different view.

it's not beautiful, but

I like it.