My First, My Last, My Land's End

Thursday 20 August 1992. We have gone as far as we can go. Well to be honest we could go a little further but that would involve - [a] getting wet and [b] drowning... We decide against!

We are, of course, at Land's End. A rather stupid claim really as travel in any direction whatsoever in the UK or any other island large or small and you will eventually reach land's end. Just not this one... This one happens to be the westernmost tip of England.

Yes, Scotland juts out a little bit further west but you don't hear them make a big thing about it until you get to the most northerly top of mainland Scotland at John O'Groats which sounds suspiciously like the offspring of porridge to me. Likewise Northern Ireland has the Giant's Causeway and therefore feels no need perhaps for a first and last anything. Oh... really hard luck, Wales...

The Isle of Man too feels no need to make any similar claim. Perhaps because the first and last north, south, east and west would be so close to each other... But look at this. That's no far distant land you can see on the horizon, it's just an inconvenient row of clouds. Head off over that lighthouse and the first decent sized chunk of rock you find is America.

Meanwhile let's remember that this is the early 1990s and digital photography is still a meaningless term. Mum and Miss Franny discuss how many or how few photos they have taken on their instamatic film cameras because each photograph taken costs money to develop and print. None can be deleted and retaken in camera if you take a duffer, even if you realise Aunty Amelia has walked across just as you pressed the button.

That ruined photograph costs just the same to be printed as there is no way to say "if a photo is ruined by a stooped little old lady" (or gentleman but then probably called Uncle Scroat or something) save me the money and don't print it..."

Wow, raise your hand if you remember all the TV ads for Direct Line Insurance... That little wheeled telephone (yes kiddies, apart from the wheels that's what telephones looked like) was forever on our TV screens until that annoying dog came along to say "Oh... Yes!"

And finally there is the signpost pointing to anywhere north, south or east with the number of miles to your hometown displayed only changing from year to year due to new roads, the strange effect of air currents or Jupiter being in the ascendant. Or something... Clan Burke gathers dutifully for their photo to be taken.

Cornwall 1992 Holiday Index