Last week we went to Cornwall; me, Mr R, the boys (2×2 legs, 1×4 legs) and Nanna and Pops.  (Nanna and Pops stayed in the house next door to save their sanity).

20 minutes after arriving Percy hurtled upstairs into the cottage bedroom that he was definitely not allowed in and threw up.  Twice.

The next day he split his lip and cut his face running into a wall.

The next day he pulled me over into a gorse bush as we attempted a very badly thought out cliff top walk.

The day after we both got covered in stinging nettle stings trying to walk up stream to find a ball he’d dropped (turned out it hadn’t made it down stream as far as I thought and we ended up having to break into a garden to retrieve it).

It might have been the day after that when booking a table at the local pub for dinner, Mr R didn’t duck sufficiently at a low door and scalped himself, resulting in far more blood that anyone should loose at 9.30am.  Two first aid boxes, many staff and a lot of suggestions of ambulances later, we made it back to the cottage for a quiet day of recovery.

And on the last day after two (one more than was sensible, it turned out), trips to the beach, Percy threw up an epic seven times.

But happily everyone was in good health to make it back home in one piece. :o)

(And in other news, we had an amazing time which included stunning scenery,  exploration of a few new places, a trip to the Minack theatre and much catching up with Nanna and Pops.)

Here’s a few photos: