We are staying at Trevoole, one of our favourite places in Cornwall. And because I am on holiday I can take precious time to see what’s in front of me. Outside our bedroom in the farmhouse there’s a romantically ramshackle entrance porch. Over the years the glazing has become increasingly cracked and opaque. Outside plants have crept in and inside plants have crept out. Lanky geraniums and scrambling asparagus ferns, sinewy ivies and clinging campanulas, twine, stretch and mingle around the tumbledown structure.
I have watched the porch’s quiet decay over many seasons. One day, like the rest of the farm’s buildings, it will be sensitively restored. For now, it offers me an opportunity to observe the fine details of decay.
