Moving To Cornwall Pt 2: 4x4 Not Required. (Other Services / General Comments)

Member Name: Farting Weasel

Product:	Other Services / General Comments
Date:	02/10/05 (772 review reads)
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Moving To Cornwall.

So you’ve had enough eh?

Yep, just like the rest of us, you’re looking for the quiet life. To get away from the pushing and shoving, the daily grind, the payoffs, rip-offs and things that no one saw. When the rat race has outstayed its’ welcome and with religious and political zealots trying to blow themselves, and you, up; your patience has finally reached the tank-empty mark. So what do you do? You look to move away from it all, that’s what. And Cornwall offers the tranquillity and peace you want, both for yourself and the family.

Well people, like all the great prophets say, nothing is ever what it seems.

If you have decided on the move, then there are two ways of getting the job done. 1/ Have a shed load of money to spend (unlike us) or, 2/ sell everything and give it a go anyway (like we did). The second option would undoubtedly mean that you will be renting a home, and as I covered this topic in a previous and still relevant piece, I’ll go for the former.

Which almost certainly means you will be able to buy your Cornish dream home. And now is the time to do it. Why? Because next April, a change in pension laws will mean that for the first time, people will be able to include property in their SIPs (Self Investment Pension Plan) portfolio. As it involves a 40% tax rebate, it can only lead to property prices going even further through the roof (having a knock on effect on rents too). So now would be a good time to start looking.

Property in Cornwall is not what you could call cheap anyway. Oh no. Prices are very high in fact. At Falmouth, an old WW2 pillbox went on the market recently for over £100,000 (someone bought it too. Why?). Another property, which was basically the three remaining walls of an old barn and a quarter acre of scrubland, went for £180,000. A three bed roomed terrace in St Ives will set you back in excess of £300,000 (our property in the North East of England sold for £32,000). A similar property in Launceston goes for about £160,000 plus and in Bude, £200,000 plus. A beach hut for £150,000 any one? House prices in Cornwall are so high that even families who are in work cannot afford a mortgage. Worse, there are some families who have had to be put up in council run emergency accommodation because they cannot afford a home, despite both parents working full time.

A sorry state of affairs.

You’ll probably want to use a local estate agent to help you find a suitable property. Now, Cornish estate agents can be described in a single word: sharks. They have lived high on the hog from the Cornish house-price boom for years now, and they are desperately trying to extend this period at every given opportunity. Never, ever take the written descriptions at face value. Pretty much like anywhere else. Here, however, estate agents are masters at the descriptive prose, bordering almost on the blatantly misleading, which have hovels sounding like grand mansions ‘in need of just a little renovation’. So keep your mind clear and focused on what you want. Be careful. Although a property you fancy will look lovely check the condition with care, as few properties are completely sound. Use an independent surveyor. And also make sure all the conveyancing is carried out properly. Old unresolved disputes with neighbours are common, but rarely disclosed.

Don’t buy a vast stretch of land without having a good idea of what you are going to do with it. Nothing winds the local farmers up more than to see acres of good grazing land they could have put to good use, bought up by some fool who just thought it was a good idea at the time. One guy I heard about bought an eighteen-acre packet of grassland. When asked what he was going to do with it, he proudly said he had a sit-on mower and was going to turn it into a lawn (what?). Another couple bought a three hundred acre estate of woodland and pasture, which included a hall, a farm, a small lake and a seventeenth century coaching house. They didn’t have the foggiest idea what to do with it all. Still don’t. The last time I spoke to them, they were selling it off again piecemeal (and getting divorced. Telling, to say the least).

Land isn’t cheap anyway, and if it gets planning permission, well, the price can increase ten fold over night. Planning permission can be a thorny issue. There are numerous examples of folk coming down, buying a piece of countryside and slapping a house on it. But, they keep forgetting about the County’s planners. And for that, the revenge is swift and decidedly severe. Yes, they are told to take the fruits of their labours down again. The planners are gorgons, and they give no quarter. In the execution of their work, they are truly merciless. Although, I must say that if you take a good look around, you will notice inconsistencies to planning policy. Hmmm, I suspect a little bit more than just the use of good networking skills.

In short, don’t mess with the local councils. If they are prepared to send grannies to jail for withholding £50 of their council tax, your planning misdemeanours will get no sympathy at all. Just don’t bother.

So think on. It will save you a whole world of pain.

Yep, dreams are neither easy nor cheap. But then again, when are they? Anyway, you’ve finally bought your home in Cornwall. You’ve made it. Hurrah!

Take a tip from me, save yourself a fortune and avoid looking an idiot. Don’t buy a 4x4. There is absolutely no need for one unless you are buying a farm. A 4x4 parked outside a lovely picture postcard cottage just indicates that therein lives a …. Well, you get the picture. There are herds of these pretentiously huge utility vehicles rampaging around Cornwall. And very few of them have been through a field gate, let alone a field. Nice and shiny, just as they were when they were bought, they are driven by busily idle young mothers, or their earnestly idle young (and in some cases, quite old) husbands. They all seem to need a stepladder to get in and out of the damn things too. I mean to say; have you seen the size of the new Nissans? The 4x4 is just a nuisance to us mere farties. Those that genuinely need to go off road use old Landrovers anyway. There is nothing better for the job.

As the weather is very mild and wet all year round, a 4x4 is just an expensive, road and parking space clogging extravagance. If conditions do become so bad that the roads are only passable using 4x4’s (which does happen occasionally in winter), then you shouldn’t be out anyway. Give your wallet a chance and stay at home by the open fire, with a mug of cocoa, slippers and a good book. Leave the heavy weather driving to the farmers. They have tractors y’know, and they’re not afraid to use them. Got it? Good. You do need a vehicle though, so get something that’s reliable, cheap to run and easy to maintain.

So, after all that, how are you going to keep yourselves? Unless you are one of the very lucky few, you’re going to need to work. The vast majority of jobs available in Cornwall are poorly paid and of poor quality. Many are seasonal. The bulk of any vacancies are found in the south of the county. Elsewhere, there is not a lot to be had unless you are prepared to work in a factory.

Food processing or manufacturing, supermarkets and care of the elderly are the main industries. Pay is very often set at the national minimum rate and even supervisory jobs are not good earners. For instance, a supervisor’s job at Safeway will get you £6.11 an hour for a 39-hour week. No overtime. A factory QA will often earn less than a line operative. Not very good at all.

So ideally, you should look to be doing your own thing, bring your work with you or commute. However, if you’re a teacher or a nurse the prospects are better. Cornwall is screaming for them.

If you are looking to set up your own business, one that employs people, beware. What I’ve written about the job vacancy situation also applies to the job hunters. Many places in Cornwall now employ East Europeans via agencies. It’s the only way they can fill vacancies because, a/ nobody wants the jobs and b/ those that do are not suitable to fill the vacancies anyway. In the factory where I work, there are quite a few people (all English) who are, strictly speaking, unemployable elsewhere. Hmm, uncharitable? Maybe. But: you’ve been warned. So keep this in mind.

None of which is of great help to the youth. The schools are very good with many being some of the top schools in the country. In fact, the standard overall is so good that even the schools considered poor in Cornwall are often better than their inner city top rated equivalents. The kids do well and the summer lists of exam results printed in the papers are quite impressive. The special need provision, should your child need it as one of our kids did, is exceptional.

But when it comes to careers there are not a lot of options for the youngsters. There are several universities doted around offering good courses and this is the way many go. But in the end, the lack of opportunities means the young leave to chase work elsewhere.

So, as a result, the population is gradually getting older. If everyone aged over sixty were to just disappear overnight, Cornwall would lose over a third of its inhabitants, if not more. Try sitting in a café on an autumn Saturday afternoon and watch people as they pass by. You’ll see what I mean. There aren’t too many younger folk about. To be honest, there aren’t too many people about at all.

A situation that leaves Cornwall in a bit of a predicament.

With so many people moving or retiring to Cornwall for the quiet life the county is slowly becoming a combination of playground for the idle rich and Gods waiting room (good for the soil though). Worse, these same folk are fighting any kind of proposal that they feel endangers the old Cornwall they are so desperate to keep. It seems that so long as their idyllic existences are not disturbed then the rest of the population can go to hell. For instance, affordable housing is desperately needed. But every time a plan is announced to build some, out come the émigrés, with their parish councillor, vowing to use any means possible to oppose such propositions. It’s the same for wind farms too. Oh the wailing and gnashing of teeth. The county council get to have such fun.

Here’s a little bit of fun you can have in the comfort of your own home. Get the local rag and look to the letters page. Now see how long it takes you to spot the letter sent in by ‘The Major and Mam Sahib’ complaining about the threat to their quiet solitude. My record is 42 seconds.

The point is, Cornwall will change. It will have to. So don’t move expecting the place to remain suspended in splendid and peaceful isolation forever. You’ll be doing it no favours at all. Some one will come along who will kick things off big time. It’s just a matter of time.

Household services are pretty much as they are elsewhere. But the best thing here is to keep things maintained and you’ll not have to worry too much. Although there are plenty of plumbers, electricians and the like, they can be quite conspicuous by their absence when you’ve got a bit of an emergency. Expensive too. Most towns have at least one supermarket. Bude has three. If you prefer your food more organic and locally produced, the likes of the traditional butcher and baker are still pretty common and farmers’ shops and markets flourish. Despite Tescos’ best efforts.

There is one household service that is a must-have requirement, especially if you plan to live in a rural or semi-rural location. A good ratter. More if you can. That’s right, cats. I’ve got a four-cat rodent patrol and they are very effective, worth more than their weight in cat food. The owners of stables next door tell me they haven’t needed to use rat poison since we moved in here. Some of you may not like moggies, but believe me, they will prove themselves. The down side to their activities is your back yard will become littered with the entrails of various rodents and birds. But, you will get quite good at identifying what kind of rodent or bird a particular piece came from.

However, there is one thing that I rarely see mentioned anywhere these days. Radon Gas. What’s this? Well, it’s a naturally occurring radioactive gas that seeps through the rocks and rises into the atmosphere, i.e. into your home. And guess what, Cornwall has the highest concentration of the stuff anywhere in Britain. Check out the Environment Agency’s site if you don’t believe me, where there is a map showing this. Apparently this stuff is reckoned to be responsible for up to 2000 deaths a year from lung cancer.

Now I bet that’s something the estate agent didn’t tell you, eh? No? I wonder why?

On the up side, crime seems to be pretty petty and sparse. The stuff given whole articles in the local papers here probably wouldn’t even warrant a mention in a newspaper elsewhere, let alone interest the police. There are instances of more violent crime but these are rare and mostly connected to the more serious crime underworlds of Plymouth, Exeter or Bristol. And even then, the criminals appear to keep things pretty much amongst themselves. I must say, the hysteria that is caused amongst the delicately civilised by a few bored kids gathered round a bottle of ‘White Lightning’ cider is inversely proportional (in fact, completely disproportionate) to the nuisance they actually cause. Or so it seems to me. Odd.

So how can I sum it all up in a nutshell for you? Let me tell you a little story.

Back in August 1999, you may remember the last total eclipse of the sun that was visible in the UK. The shadow edge of which falling across the South West of England, before floating off into France. It just so happened that this event coincided with me being in Cornwall on holidays with the family.

Cornwall had a massive push to promote the event, and so expected to be flooded with sightseers and the like. In the event, this didn’t happen as some people tried to push their luck and ended up shooting themselves in the foot. £10,000 for a week’s holiday rental of a cottage during the eclipse week was not a good idea. Elsewhere, the usually reasonable holiday rates quadrupled too. Fields set aside for the expected influx of campers remained empty.

However, I digress.

To view the eclipse, I went to an old watchtower, situated on a rocky outcrop overlooking the sea at Boscastle (what a view it is too). I watched as the shadow travelled in off the Atlantic and swept ashore. Spectacular, to say the least. Birds went to roost (it was mid dayish if I remember right) and the place went very dark, cold and an eerie calm settled over the land. No wonder our ancient ancestors were terrified by these events. Spooky. There were people holding hands, dancing around in circles in the fields and as the eclipse reached it’s peak, you could see lights twinkling in Tintagel and the odd fire work being let off. The folk in the fields stopped dancing and stood, their arms up reaching, surrounding their own druidic figures. The crowd I was sat amongst sat and watched in a mumbling quiet. I thought it was quite strange how folk seemed to feel they had to whisper. Myself included.

This is the business, thought I.

Then out of the silence a loud, very plumy mans voice pipes up, “I say Dorothy, you should see what it looks like through this Champagne”. We, en masse, turned to look. There stood an old guy with his straw boater on, holding up a fluted glass to the sky. Yes: it was The Major. Dorothy sits in her folding chair, guarding the wicker picnic hamper and does the same. The two younger adults with them (I assume the son/daughter, son/daughter-in-law or daughter/son-in-law combination) look suitably sheepish, but the young man uses the bottle. All that was missing was the butler stood to attention with the Bentley parked nearby.

Thankfully, the words “spiffing” or “wizard show” were never uttered.

But the spell was broken none-the-less. People meander away, back down into Boscastle. The druids and their acolytes remain far off in the fields. Oblivious. Lucky them!

This, to me, sums it all up down here. Blundering pseudo intellectual ignorance running riot over optimistic naivety.

For all that, I love it here. The place is so much better than that from where I came (escaped?), and the Cornish are a pleasure to be with and live amongst. They are a resourceful bunch, to say the least. But then; they have to be. The entertainment value of the resident émigré population, however, is immense, second to none. Unsurpassed muppetry.

Life is slower in Cornwall. Don’t try to rush about. Allow plenty of time if needing to be somewhere or get something done. The combination of the ‘tractor factor’ and The Major dawdling along at thirty miles an hour taking the Mam Sahib out for an afternoon spin in his BMW 7 series car will slow you down anyway. Things like the lady looking for that last penny at the checkout or the workmen who don’t show up as arranged will stop you dead in your tracks. No, take it easy, relax and go with the Cornish flow. It can take some getting used to, but you will find that the benefits will far out-weigh the costs. Not least of which being you avoid suffering an early heart attack through sheer frustration.

The big winter skies and star filled nights, the spectacular countryside, the slower pace of living and the general overall feel of the place mean I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m not returning to the hells’ creation from whence I came. I’ll never be able to afford to buy my own home here, but then again I never really expected to. My family’s standard of living has never been better. And academically at least, my boys have an excellent chance of getting on. The effort and expense has been, and remains, worthwhile. But, as the family and I did it using the second option mentioned at the head of this piece, it has been a very hard, grinding 5-year slog. Tough, we’ve just had to learn to roll with the punches. No one said it would be easy. Though, there’s certainly never been a dull moment

I fully recommend a move here if that is what you really want to do. But unless you are very well endowed with lots of insulating cash (and even then, you still need to keep an eye out for the sucker punch), expect a struggle.

Nothing will be as it seems.

Oh yes. While I remember. If you do find yourself languishing in Cornwall, see if you can work out why life seems slower.

Enjoy the challenge.

Summary: Not as easy as you think.