I’m not from Cornwall, but when I was a kid my mum’s family all lived in St. Just and several times a year we would come down for holidays.
There’s one night in particular, I have a very clear and cherished memory of. I was young, no more than nine years old. We had been staying with my aunt and we went round for dinner to friends of hers, a couple who were artists in Morvah.
After dinner they decided that we should walk to the Men-an-Tol. It was summer and it was dark, probably past my bedtime. It felt exciting and unusual going out after dark into the country, into the wild. There were fireflies, the first and only time I’ve seen them in real life. I remember walking up the country lane and seeing the little green flashes in the hedgerows. I was mesmerised, it felt magical and special.
Something mystical and wonderful happens to the countryside after dark. The smell of the country, and I swear that the Cornish countryside smells different to any other countryside that I’ve been to. And stars, upon stars, upon stars. We couldn’t see far around us, the darkness wrapped around you. When we got to the Men-an-Tol, we all went through it. I don’t remember which direction, or if we did it right. But I remember everyone had an opinion about it and people talked about the significance and what you were supposed to do. I remember it as a meaningful, cool, special, unique night that stayed with me to this day.
And it’s not just the one night. This area of Cornwall is very special to me. I had a lot of cherished memories and formative experiences in St Just. Time spent with loved ones and family members I haven’t seen in years, and some who I’ll never see again because they’ve passed away.
The Men-an-Tol for me doesn’t just signify that one night, it represents everything about West Cornwall that fed my soul as a child and a young adult. I didn’t like the place I actually grew up in. It wasn’t very tolerant of difference… and I was different.
West Cornwall was kind of a sanctuary. I resonated with it. I loved the wildness, the artiness and the special vibe of the place. I’ve been chronically ill for 17 years. I live 400 miles away from West Cornwall. My illness has declined in the last few years and now I can’t walk more than a few metres without symptoms and I use a wheelchair for any significant distance. Travelling long distances is exhausting. I’m mostly housebound.
It hurts my heart that I can’t come back here and experience what was so meaningful and reconnect with the place. One of the last things I did before I got sick was walk the coast road between Morvah and St Just in the summer of 2006. As I went, I was making plans for the next time I walked that path, but there was to be no next time. Within a couple of months, I was struggling even to stand and that was the start of my illness. I feel grateful for the memories of the Men-an-Tol and St Just and Cornwall, but I wanted so much more.
If anyone is listening to this, who knows me… “Hi. Hello. I miss you… Give me a call sometime”.
The Men-an-Tol photograph was taken by Amy’s Aunt, Beryl Renshall.
