St Piran's Oratory

29th July 2020

13th July 2020

The weather forecast is for cloudy skies, with rain in the afternoon.
Not a beach day then.

" We could go for a walk across the dunes," Jo says, "it would take a few hours to get to Perranporth and back, by the circular route. What do you think?"
"Sounds good to me," this is more my cup of tea. I'm not one for sitting on the beach all day, especially as I suffer with my back. Peter usually brings a chair for me. Getting old...

So, with trainers, raincoats, and lots of water, plus snacks for the children, we set off.
Our trek takes us by St Piran's Oratory. I remember seeing this years ago when we brought Peter's mum and dad on holiday with us. Back then I'd strayed away from the Church and although I loved seeing the old ruin because of times past, it didn't have much meaning for me.


The remains of the 6th century oratory is one of Britain's oldest Christian sites and was established by Piran, an Irish Saint  who landed on the beach here after being exiled from his homeland.
Legend has it that Piran, a 5th or 6th century Irish monk, thrown off a high cliff with a millstone round his neck,  by a jealous ruler, rather than drowning floated across the sea to Cornwall.
He became the Patron Saint of Cornwall and is also revered as the Patron Saint of Tinners.
The Cornish flag uses his white cross on a black background, symbolic of the white tin emerging from the black ore and also spiritual truth shining amid the darkness.

I take it all in.

Attempts have been made to protect the ruin, but very little of the original building is left to see.

It's nearly midday and with no rain yet to impede our progress we continue on our way, up and down the hilly dunes towards Perranporth town.

We hope to go along the beach but as we get near we can see the tide is coming in which means it's not possible, so there's nothing for it but to climb the stairs over the cliff and join the coast path.

At the top of the stairs  Jo searches  her pockets..

"Can you ring my phone mum, I can't find it ?" 

Before I have a chance to ring her I see that there's a call from her phone ten minutes ago. I know it wasn't her. We assume someone has picked it up and tried to contact her. I ring back but there's no answer, so Jo sends a message hoping that their intention is to give the phone back.

Sure enough, an hour or so later, they message back and arrange for her to pick it up at Perran Sands, which is next to our campsite. Relief for Jo.

When we reach the town, we decide to treat ourselves to fish and chips for lunch, a reward for the arduous exercise we've just completed.

And then what happens? Why, it starts to rain, of course.

Molly gets upset that her chips are getting wet, so Paul pulls his coat over her and himself and makes a tent affair for her which cheers her up no end. 

Peter's chicken is covered with batter which we remove hoping that he won't react to any gluten left around the remaining pieces of meat. I asked for chicken for him thinking it would be a leg or something, like you used to get in the old days. As it is he may as well have had the fish.

The rain continues and so do we, along the road this time, the quickest way back to Tollgate Farm. Molly does  six miles  but needs help for the last mile home. We are all tired.

I sleep for an hour or so when we get back , then Peter and I  both read our books whilst listening to the rain and eating the last of the rice pudding.