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We go to restaurants for differing reasons: often to be fed and watered, sometimes to seduce, occasionally just to pass the time. In other moments it is to feel we have travelled across the world without the need of a flight. With the Headland Hotel, I was using the place to travel through time, to a childhood spent on Cornish beaches.
I have not been to this part of Cornwall in more than a decade. Then I went to scatter dad’s ashes into the stretch of sea we had spent all those summers swimming in, me turning blue in North Atlantic waters obstinately refusing to warm up. This time was to explain the place to my fiancée, Twiggy, before we get married: here is a little of a past that feels longer ago than it is. She did not meet my father. I wanted to bring them a little closer.