Cornwall: Quackling and otters and history, oh my!

I really do love London. The city is vibrant, with great restaurants and theatres, amazing parks, helpful policemen and wonderful expositions. Unfortunately, it also has an over-crowded transport system that doesn't work, air pollution, noise, unexpected expense everywhere you look and too many tourists. So every so often you have to get away, which is exactly what I did last weekend when my boyfriend took me away for five perfect days in a tiny listed cottage in the middle of the Cornwall wilderness. Hold the eye-rolling at the mushiness please, I have a point here. Until I can move to the countryside, I intend to go back on a regular basis, and this is why: ever since I started planning to move to the UK years ago, I dreamed about evenings in front of open fires, long walks across the cliffs to tiny country pubs where I could sit and read the papers in the sun, stumbling across random farmers markets and wildlife by the tonne. Thanks to the Tamar Otter and Wildlife Sanctuary (forget the Eden Project, this is the only place to visit in Cornwall), even the last one happened, with otters, deer, wallabies and the infamous Indian Running Ducks running (aptly) all over the place. Everybody was so friendly that I found myself peering at them suspiciously until I relaxed and enjoyed the banter, especially with the local producers at the market we found. Quackling (like pork crackling only made of ducks) is going to be huge: remember that you heard it here first. In short, if you want to take a look at truly relaxed Britain, log onto the National Trust website, rent a listed building and head for Cornwall. Don't even stop to grab your handbag, just go. You'll thank me for it when you arrive.