Latest news with #RoselandPeninsula
The Sun
4 days ago
- The Sun
I make £10,000 each summer renting my house to rich tourists – I live with my daughter in a caravan in mum's garden
LIKE many mums, I'm already planning the summer holidays in Cornwall. I'm budgeting carefully to make my money stretch as far as possible but unlike many of my mates, I'm not just watching the pennies this summer - I'm making them, too. 6 So as my daughter Mabel and I splashing about at Jubilee Pool in Penzance, watch a kids' show at the Minack Theatre and wander around the Eden Project, we'll be earning while we're relaxing. I'm renting our family home in Cornwall to tourists, so we can earn an extra £10k over the peak summer months. To make it work, Mabel, 7, and I are swapping our house for a caravan at my parents' farm in north Cornwall. People tell me that I'm mad to give up our comfy home to live in a less-than-glam caravan for six weeks with a small child. PRECIOUS TIME But while they're glued to laptops or forking out for childcare, I'll be bringing in enough money to cut back my working hours and spend more precious time with my daughter. I'd much rather give up my sofa and Wi-Fi than work flat-out all summer, feeling like I'm failing my boss and my child. My daughter and I live in a standard three-bedroom house at the edge of Cornwall's Roseland Peninsula. It's not in one of the posh tourist hotspots like St Mawes or Portloe, where the seafront rentals go for between £4k and £8k a week. But it's definitely close enough to the sea to tempt holidaymakers looking for a more affordable base. A 10-minute drive gets you to the fairytale-like Caerhays Castle or the long stretch of sand at Carne Beach and Pendower. The seaside town of Newlyn in Cornwall has been dubbed as one of the 'coolest' places to relocate 6 Go a little further, around 20 minutes, and you've got the Lost Gardens of Heligan and Mevagissey's working harbour and quaint shops. I've teamed up with a friend who owns several holiday cottages nearby. Her properties get snapped up early, mostly by returning guests, so when someone misses out, she recommends my house. Holiday costs in Cornwall have shot up since lockdown, and many people are pleased to find somewhere peaceful for well under half the price of a typical seafront stay. Getting the house up to scratch for paying guests is the most labour-intensive bit. I charge £2,000 per week and pay my friend a 10 percent commission, which works out at around £200 a week. In return, I get lovely, respectful guests and none of the marketing and admin stress. Our bookings for this summer are confirmed, and Mabel and I will be making the most of the great outdoors by July. Anyone can rent their property out - you just need to ensure you have fire doors fitted and check the terms of your house insurance and mortgage. In London and some other places, you're limited to a maximum of 90 days rental. Most people I speak to assume that the hardest part is living in a caravan. But honestly, getting the house up to scratch for paying guests is the most labour-intensive bit. It's no small task, so I do odd jobs here and there. Though it's only May, I'm already repainting scuffed walls and doors, booked a plumber to replace the shower, and filled the flower beds with marigolds and petunias. In all, I'll spend around £1,000 on repairs that probably need doing anyway. It's the thought of guests arriving that motivates me to get them done, instead of endlessly putting them off. As for our own summer living quarters, the 20-year-old caravan isn't exactly boutique. 6 It's been sitting, mostly disused, between an outhouse and polytunnel at the bottom of my parents' garden for years. But it's got everything you need for an outdoorsy summer. There's electricity, a toilet and sink in the outhouse. And I've kitted it out with a kettle, microwave, a second-hand fridge-freezer and a cheap double electric hob. We're bringing bunting, solar-powered fairy lights, an inflatable paddling pool and a fire pit for marshmallow toasting. HOLIDAY HACK I love to give the place a proper holiday vibe, even if there's no fancy hot-tub or Instagrammable outdoor pizza oven. We'll venture into my parents' house to make the most of the shower and bath, but even though mum asked us to live with them for the holidays, our different approaches to parenting make this nearly impossible. A caravan seems like a healthy compromise, as we all get our own space, yet they will be close by on the farm. Plus, my mum is happy to help with Mabel a couple of days a week, so I can keep my freelance business going. Every Saturday, I'll make the one-hour drive back to the house to clean, wash the sheets and towels and tackle any urgent maintenance issues. Last year, I took a month off work and also paid off a chunk off the mortgage with the extra cash. I first tried this money-making trick back in 2011, when I was a grad student in Devon living on a £14k a year grant. Each summer, I'd rent out my waterfront flat for up to a week at a time, while working at residential summer schools and sleeping in student halls. Instead of spending the extra money, I saved it up and eventually used it to put down a deposit on a second property in Cornwall. But now I'm a single parent and mortgage interest rates are high, I've found myself relying on this holiday hack for the last few summers. Last year, I took a month off work and also paid off a chunk off the mortgage with the extra cash. It's not always smooth sailing as caravan life does have its challenges, especially when it rains. Come September, we'll be grateful not to dash outside to use the loo in a downpour. I would love to put the cash towards a summer spent abroad one day, in a place with guaranteed sunshine. For now, a rustic British summer with my little one will do just fine. 6
Telegraph
26-05-2025
- Telegraph
The Royal family is right, this truly is Britain's loveliest seaside village
Next time somebody asks me to recommend Britain's finest seaside village, I will send them some boat shoes, a Panama hat and the coordinates for St Mawes in Cornwall. St Mawes is no secret, but unlike Padstow and St Ives, it has retained a sense of class and mystique without being overrun or homogenised by tourism. It's probably down to the geography. Found at the far tip of the Roseland Peninsula on Cornwall's south coast, you need to catch a car ferry or embark on a 40-minute drive from Truro or St Austell to get here. The ferry is an apt way of arriving, given the boating heritage of St Mawes. The village is set around a sheltered harbour on the eastern side of the Fal Estuary, one of the best places in the country for sailing. The village's high-end waterfront hotels have a toe in the water, too – Idle Rocks offers sailing lessons, and the Hotel Tresanton even has its own yacht, Pinuccia, available for hire. The result is a pleasing boat-bobbing mildness to the place. If you don't believe me, ask the royals. King Charles III and Queen Camilla often visited during their annual visit to the county as Duke and Duchess of Cornwall. It was a favourite stop-off for Queen Elizabeth II and the Queen Mother during trips on the Royal Yacht Britannia, and more recently Prince William and Princess Kate have brought their family this way. What's it really like? Clean, classy, cool. Sub-tropical. Quasi-Mediterranean? I have seen comparisons drawn with St Tropez, which isn't a million miles off, but the pace is slower and the scale is smaller. More Amalfi Coast, if we must identify a similar European destination. As you enter the village from the west, Marine Parade is lined with thatched houses and white-washed fisherman's cottages (most of which, alas, are second homes these days). You could easily spend a morning dipping in and out of the shops and galleries along the waterfront, like the Waterside Gallery or Bridie and Bert, which sells high-quality retro beachwear. The small village deli is stocked with Cornish spirits, crab baguettes and jams. Another bonus, and not always a given in a Cornish harbour town, is that you can go for a swim in St Mawes. Summers Beach, a sheltered spot to the east of the village, is suitable, as is Tavern Beach, towards the castle, which also has good rock-pooling. Right in the centre, Harbour Beach, only accessible during low tide, is suitable for dogs year-round. Beware, though, there are no lifeguards on duty in St Mawes. What's not to like? There's no avoiding the fact that St Mawes is incredibly wealthy. House prices can reach £5m (you'll be able to identify the prime properties, on the hill overlooking the harbour), and the sorts of yachts anchored in the waters have got bigger and shinier in recent years. Depending on your disposition, you might find it all a bit snobbish. But then again, you might find the yacht-y, refined shtick to be an entertaining escape from reality. If you are looking for a convenient base to explore the big-hitting sights across Cornwall, St Mawes might not be the best choice. You're here for the unique cut-off spirit of the place, not for its connections. Do this High on your St Mawes to-do list should be a visit to the intact, clover leaf-shaped St Mawes Castle (adults £10.40, children £6.30), which was built by Henry VIII. Kids will love all of the cannons lined up on the tiered lawns overlooking the bay. After, walk up the road to Lamorran House Gardens (£14 entry), an Italianate garden filled with tumbling waterways and little bridges. Just about every local I spoke to implored me to walk the Cornish coastal path from the village to the church in St Just in Roseland (approx 1hr each way), which has one of the prettiest churchyards in England. In the summer, you can catch the 10-minute ferry across the bay (£8.50 return) to Place Creek. Here you can walk to St Anthony's Lighthouse or embark on an adventurous five-mile hike to get some fresh seafood at the laid-back Hidden Hut, overlooking Porthcurnick Beach. Eat this For such a tiny village, with a population of 700 or so, the dining options in St Mawes are wide-ranging and of a very high calibre. For lunch, take your pick from St Mawes Bakery down on the quay, which runs occasional pasty-crimping sessions, or the neighbouring St Mawes Seafood Bar, which serves super platters and has an oyster shucking station. For an afternoon tipple, take your pick from The Rising Sun, with St Austell beers on tap and a big terrace at the front, or the more traditional Victory Inn on a narrow street sloping down to the quay. For a cocktail, Hotel Tresanton has a breezy Mediterranean-style Beach Club overlooking the bay. Come evening, for a sit-down meal, take your pick from the St Mawes Hotel, Idle Rocks, the highly acclaimed Watch House or Hotel Tresanton. The geranium-peppered terrace at Tresanton is as pleasant a dining spot as you'll find anywhere in Cornwall. The menu rotates based on the season: on my visit I opted for scallops to start, bass for main and a chocolate fondant to round it off. Sublime. But don't do this Try to avoid the peak months of late July and August, if you can. Inevitably, things do get busy when schools are off. St Mawes also welcomes cruise passengers from ships that dock in the port of Falmouth in high season. Come in the shoulder season, when locals say you are more likely to get pleasant weather, and you won't have to queue up for your pasty. From locals I asked Liz Branson, who has lived in St Mawes for 29 years, what makes St Mawes special. 'The community,' she said. 'It's very strong. Everyone looks after everybody else. The air, the sea... it's so beautiful here. But most of all, it's the people who live here. 'No matter how cold it is, get in the sea, even if you quickly plunge in. In the village there are loads of places to eat, to shop, to watch the world go by.' Miles Carden, CEO of Falmouth Harbour, added: 'I live here because there are great people here. The community is about sailing, boating, yachting, and the sea. That's what makes this place really lovely. 'But if we don't have local services, we lose our community, and then the heart of the village is gone.' From the tourists Gary, visiting with his wife Jo for the day, said: 'It's a lovely spot, nearly as nice as Fowey. It's a shame the village loses the sun in the evening, though.' The village is south-facing and the hinterland is steeply hilly, meaning that after a certain hour of the day the sun disappears and the mercury drops a degree or two. Down on the harbour-front, I asked a couple from Winchester if they were enjoying their stay. 'It's nice, but I'd like to come back when there aren't all these bloody cars clogging up the village,' said the gentleman, referencing the St Mawes Classic Car Festival that was taking place that week. Stay here Surely nowhere else on the planet has three hotels ranked 9/10 by Telegraph Travel's hotel experts within 600m of each other. You have the Edwardian Idle Rocks and the village hub at St Mawes Hotel. The Hotel Tresanton – where I stayed – is up there with the very best in the country. Tresanton, a former yacht club, is part of the Polizzi Collection (the Hotel Endsleigh in Devon and The Star in Alfriston make up the rest of the group). Each of the 30 rooms at Tresanton has a sea view, and has been personally designed by Olga Polizzi (Rocco Forte's design director) with a combination of locally sourced antiques and artworks. The layout of the hotel, set across multiple buildings interconnected by zig-zagging steps stooped by aromatic plants, feels idiosyncratic, and distinctly un-British. For bigger groups, Room 22 offers two double rooms and bunk beds for little ones, while the hotel also has plenty of doubles starting from £270. There are some special little touches for people of all stages of life: the playroom with table football will delight younger visitors, while the deluxe spa treatments (Swedish massages from £85 for 1hr) will have the grown-ups wishing for a longer stay. Get there The King Harry Ferry departs every 20 minutes and lasts under 10 minutes, connecting Trelissick with Philleigh (£11 day return). Otherwise, you're in for a 40-minute drive from Truro or St Austell.
Daily Mail
10-05-2025
- Daily Mail
EXCLUSIVE Why I regret moving to Cornwall: My relationship was ruined, I was told 'go back to London' for trying to buy oat milk and it takes half a day to get anywhere because of tourists
With a glass of champagne in hand and the turquoise River Fal gleaming in front of me, I felt smug. It was October 2017, and my fiancé and I were celebrating the acceptance of our £450,000 offer on a cottage just outside the seaside village of St Mawes. We were finally escaping the exhausting daily commute of the south east, replacing it with peaceful beaches, quaint villages and an altogether slower pace of life in Cornwall. I was convinced that the county's untouched Roseland Peninsula was the ultimate upgrade. We'd be a stone's throw from our favourite spots including Portscatho's tiny harbour, the Lost Gardens of Heligan and endless quiet coves. But sadly the reality didn't live up to the much-hyped daydream. For a start, it wasn't until Christmas 2019 that we finally managed to make the move full-time, with a baby in tow. One of us was always needed back in London or Cambridge for work. When we eventually spent more than a few weeks together in our coastal bolthole, our 14-year relationship imploded from the stress of living in a half-renovated property in a remote village, with a newborn. I found myself a single mother in the middle of nowhere, cut off from the hectic pace of the capital and desperately missing its anonymity and my friendship network. Ironically, I was physically closer to my mum, grandmother and extended family than in decades. They were just an hour or so up the road on their farm, but even that felt a world away when I was caring for a little one and juggling work with property renovation. Life in Cornwall didn't magically get better when summer hit. Tourists descend in droves each year, gridlocking narrow, single-lane roads that inexplicably haven't been upgraded since the days of horses and carts. Bins constantly overflow and seagulls circle, dive-bombing for discarded pasties or fish and chips. And parking becomes a competitive sport. The only half-decent hotel gym in miles shuts its doors to locals so it can cater to visitors. I try to avoid even a trip to the supermarket, as traffic slows to a crawl and it ends up taking almost half a day. Locals call this 'overtourism.' I call it what it is and that's a woeful underinvestment in infrastructure. The Cornish are famously proud of their cultural heritage. And rightly so. But I was shocked by how real the hostility to 'incomers' and resistance to change can be. Soon after our arrival, I asked, perfectly politely, if the village shop stocked oat milk. An elderly man looked me up and down and commented: 'We don't sell that muck in here. F*** off back to London.' I think he was joking, but it definitely carried a sharp edge. Months later, I was shocked to hear the popular local electrician tipsily bragging in the village pub about charging some 'emmets' – a Cornish word for 'outsiders' – four times the usual rate. Even the weekly girls' ballet classes at the village hall is a battleground. It costs £10 a session, but parents aren't allowed to wait indoors during the lesson — not even in the empty room next door — unless we pay extra to hire the space. When I queried this rule, I got a cold response. Days later, I was quietly removed from the village Facebook group. I later learned that there had been a thread filled with complaints about the fact I'd spoken out. It is funny, I suppose, but at the same time the message is crystal clear. Toe the line or you're out. I'm constantly puzzled by how often locals lament the so-called 'housing crisis,' while fiercely opposing the construction of any affordable homes that might actually help solve it. Of course, there are fewer sirens in sleepy Cornwall. You don't worry about getting mugged by a teenager on an e-scooter. But crime doesn't disappear, instead it takes a different form. I can't recall any drug raids or stabbings in this neck of the woods, yet my neighbour's dog defecates in my front garden every single day without fail. It's not a crime that will get anyone locked up, but it's the kind of thing that slowly chips away at your sanity in a place where everyone swears they're just doing their best. Some people thrive in this tight-knit environment. They love that nothing goes unnoticed and that gossip travels faster than the local broadband signal. Personally, I've struggled to adapt to the village-wide interest in my every move. When the police turned up at my door, as I called a retired officer a raging misogynist, it felt like front page news for weeks. People still comment on it over a year later. These days, I second guess almost everything I say. I desperately miss the privacy and excitement of the city, being able to get on with life without mistakenly stepping on local toes. And I miss grabbing oat milk at the nearest shop without triggering a minor culture war, and not having to tiptoe through what feels like a political minefield every time I challenge how something's done. But even if I wanted to disappear back to London, I can't. My ex-fiancé has already remarried and had another child. Our daughter, who adores her dad, wouldn't want to live far away from him, and I wouldn't want that for her either. So, I've decided I'm staying put. I'm going to learn to love this place. Fortunately, the school run and my child's extracurricular classes have opened up new friendships. I'd become uncharacteristically shy after the oat milk moment and ballet hall debacle, but slowly my confidence has returned. I tentatively turned back to Facebook, not for the cliquey village group, but to connect with newcomers and locals looking to build new friendships. Things have gone surprisingly well and I've met some brilliant friends, some with their own faintly traumatising tales of adapting to rural life. Gradually, I'm beginning to appreciate the seaside peace I once craved. I spend time outside gardening or sitting with a cup of tea, enjoying the stillness. It's far from the seaside life I imagined, but it's becoming one I can live with. Maybe even love.
