We clambered over rocks, sat on the landing stage
then bought souvenirs in the old crooked cottage.
We went in the museum, then had a cream tea
and bought mugs and jugs in Boscastle pottery.
The unique smell of Boscastle gets in your nose –
aromas of woodsmoke, lavendars, and musk rose.
There’s a spooky feel of magic and mystery
and a feeling you’re drawn into its history.
How dreadful to hear about the terrible flood
with cars swept from the car park, and lost in the mud,
with the old crooked cottage and bridge washed away
by the raging river that awful August day.
Let us give thanks that there were no lives lost,
but what a loss for the villagers. What a cost!
But we’ve been back since and they’ve all pulled together,
redesigned the car park to withstand the weather,
rebuilt the cottage, but a little bit straighter.
It looks pretty new now but will improve later.
One wonders now whether the warlocks and witches
are still around there, or have drowned in the ditches!