There were plenty of fellow yompers around also welcoming the new year in energetic fashion. There was a family on a rocky outcrop having a portrait photo taken; I overheard a great bit of childhood rebellion taking place. Imagine this exchange in well spoken "Queen's" English.
"...no, you're not a chav." said a wax jacketed and Barboured Dad.
"I am. I'm a chav," semi-sulked a little girl of about seven or eight.
"You are not a chav, Cicely..."
I have to say, Cicely, you're Dad is probably right on this one. Your chavdom is of the mind, not of reality.
We continued around the Cheesewring using what must be a very ancient path, using convenient paving stones to avoid the mud. Well, we all found the paving stones handily spaced except for a certain very little legged person who might be a familiar sight at the Land Registry. Shazzerooneypoos leapt gamely from stone to stone as we stepped daintily onward.Needless to say the adventure was brought to a suitable close as Dong sighted the highest pub in Cornwall not far in the distance. The Cheesewring Hotel was warm and buzzing, the ale was yummy. What a brilliant way to see in 2008.