Cider, once widely drunk throughout England for centuries, virtually disappeared from pubs in the last half of the twentieth century. Recently it has been revived in a bastardised form as a fashionable Saturday night binge drink but, as with real ale, there has been a silent underground revolution spearheaded by small artisan producers like the Healeys.

Near Truro in Cornwall is their Cornish Cyder Farm, not just a great place to visit and learn about cider making (and drinking) but a heartwarming story of how a young couple turned a dream into a prosperous business by vision and sheer hard graft.

1980 David and Kay Healey open their first off-licence in Mevagissey
1986: The family buys a run-down farm with no electricity or water
1987: They start planting orchards
1990: Their Cornish Gold Cyder is first produced
1993: Their on-site farm shop opens in response to public demand

From the moment we turned the key in the door of our first off-licence, to dreaming of making our own hand-pressed cyder. From lovingly bringing a 150-year-old farm back to life, to coaxing our very own orchards into bloom then turning their fruit into world-beating drinks. From pouring our love of apples into jams and juices, to branching out and creating Cornwall’s first brandy in over 300 years – we’ve always believed in thinking differently and striving for more. Where will it lead us next?

From basic Scrumpy to award winning Cornish Rattler and Cornish Whiskey (£175 a bottle) the Healey’s make drinks for all tastes – and pockets

Here’s a toast to the Healeys – and all the independent cider makers who are redefining the old adage – small is not only beautiful but hopefully profitable as well….

There are delightfully quirky coffee shops (Pinky Murphys and the Red Herring) and a superb deli (Kittows)….and if you stay at Duchy Cottage as we regularly do you can pop next door to The Safe Harbour and drink as much St Austell Tribute as you want without having to worry about being breath tested.

But, above all, the surrounding countryside is….perfect….

It was scruffy and horrible and the seat was broken and it is one of the first things people see when they arrive here.
All the bits of furniture and paintings have been donated by lots of different people who all wanted to see the bus stop improved

So you can wait for the bus in proper comfort – now that is what I call real community action. Moreover the shelter has an annual makeover. We took the photo above last year (we go to Fowey quite often because it is my wife’s home town) but this year, as our grandaughter discovered) it has gone all modern.

What a difference when ordinary people decide to do things themselves…..

This is the cottage where we stayed in Fowey a few weeks ago.

Conveniently it’s right next door to a pub – “The Safe Harbour”

The Lovely Mrs P was born and bred in Fowey and when this Londoner went down there do do some courting (strange, old fashioned word….) we used to go down to that pub for a quiet drink and a little privacy

Opposite the pub is the letter box…

…and almost opposite the cottage is the alleyway that leads to the church and the harbour.

The church, St Fimbarrus, is where we got married in 1967…

….and we posed before it 40 years later…

Further down the town you come to the mouth of the River Fowey, Fowey Harbour, which is a busy little port for ships large and small.

“There is nothing- absolutely nothing- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”

Fowey also has a fully furnished bus stop…

While further inland are the (rather modest) Golitha Falls where the infant River Fowey tumbles down from the edge of Bodmin Moor

One day we went further down to the western tip of Cornwall where, every twenty miles or so, there is a delightful sandy cove with a beautiful natural beach set against rugged cliffs. Once there we followed the cliff path to Pedn Vounder Beach and harvested mussels for our supper from the isolated rock standing up from the sand

The cliffs look as if they have been hewn by giants to carve out forbidding ramparts

Beneath the rocks there sits a woman of mysterious beauty – does she seek to capture my heart?

She has no need for it is the Cornish girl who captured my heart many years ago…

Meanwhile the eternal sea washes against the sand, whispering the memories of people like us long departed and yet to come…