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Trengwainton Garden (National Trust) was my destination for the Monday afternoon, despite my very tired legs and feet. My plan was to have a gentle stroll around the gardens and then have a drink in the tea-room at the end. Sadly, the last part was thwarted, as the tea-room shut at 3.00 (staff shortage?). But the tea-tray in my room at my BnB was only minutes away.

The entry was at G below, right. I first explored the walled gardens, then went along the main avenue (gently ascending but not gently enough!) to the lawns by the main house, and returned via the woodland area with the stream running though it.

Proof of acid soil or what!

As everywhere I went in Cornwall, my impression was ‘lush and large’ with a dash of exoticism.

I wondered what this huge tree with red flowers could possibly be.

A close up with my camera revealed that it was a fuchsia.

And reaching its origins, I saw that the fuchsia was supported by a sequoia.

The house itself is still owned and lived in by the family that bought it in the 19th century, and a discreet rope keeps the public at bay.

I had been told at reception that the views from up here were ‘spectacular’. She didn’t know where I had been in the morning!

An original orientation table
What a shame!

There were several benches up by the lawns, but it took a while for one to be vacated, and how my legs were longing to sit down. Eventually I was able to rest on this bench. I’ve been unable to find anything about the coat of arms – but I have a plea out to the Fleur-de-Lys History Society by social media!

I was intrigued by the apparently perfect square shape of the hole in this trunk.

It turned out not to be a perfect square, and to contain some fascinating fungi.

Back through the tree ferns of the woodland area. I was reminded of my trip with a friend to Tasmania.

One final picture near the entrance.

When eating my huge sandwich at Perranuthnoe at lunchtime, I had been sitting on a bench, with a local woman at the other end. When I told her of my plan for the afternoon, she told me I would learn of the slavery connections of Trengwainton. I didn’t, but, local paper style, it is here. A more sober account, part of a very long description of the property, is by Historic England.

The coolness of the mainly shady gardens of Trengwainton had been most welcome, on the hottest day of my stay in Cornwall. The rest of the week remained largely dry, during the day, but at times was very misty.

I slept well that night.