There are countless ways of looking at summer in Cornwall: through sun glasses, some would suggest, is never a bad idea. But don't get the wrong impression - whilst its beaches have long been a remarkable asset, there's not a pier and scarcely a deckchair to be seen.

Cornwall, you see, is not like that. Unquestionably, there's a lot of sand (up to three miles long along stretches of the north coast, for instance) and you'll find cliffs and coves and river estuaries on which, even at the height of summer, there's still ample room to spread yourself.

More Bothams and Gowers, it might be conjectured, have been nurtured on the sands of Cornwall than all the Ovals and Old Traffords put together, and even long-suffering grannies, posted to deep third man, find consolation in the turbulent surf and the sweetness of a languid breeze which comes unadulterated from Biscay and the heaving Atlantic.

The sea has literally fashioned Cornwall, and its influence is all pervasive. The renowned harbour villages of the south coast, parcelling water of a Mediterranean intensity, would still be recognisable to the likes of Raleigh, Drake and Hawkins, and working fishing boards still line the quays with awkward stacks of lobster pots.

There are those, of a contemplative disposition, whose excitement is generated by the glimpse of a hoopoe, basking shark or banana tree, and there are those for whom only pounding surf or vertical rock faces can generate adrenalin.

Yet whilst it is true that those with ambitions for their pectorals will find every opportunity in Cornwall, it is worth remarking that their number is significantly exceeded by the cliff-top walker, the gardens browser or the weekend antiquarian.

For Cornwall was, and remains a Celtic homeland, an identity which is indelibly reflected in such age-old traditions as the Helston Furry Dance which enrich the visitor experience the summer through.

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