In this post Christmas lull, I read attempts to rebrand these ebbing days of 2025 as ‘Twixmas’ or ‘Crimbo Limbo’ (No! On every level) These ‘do’ nothing for me. Instead, I make the case for a pre-Xmas mini break – a booster shot to see people through the hinterland of Christmas and New Year. Due to excessive and indulgent consumption of chocolate orange and red wine, you will need to excuse my Prexmas branding of this mini break and just accept that this blog is admittedly a shameless bid to share my pre-Christmas Cornish Caper with you.

These are my arguments to disappear for a few days in the UK as soon as you finish work in December:

• You can avoid shopping malls and then tell people that you had no time to go Christmas shopping because you ‘had to get away’.
• Airbnb seem keen to gift festive bargains before their Christmas/New Year Eve arrivals decend. Take what you can, give nothing back.
• You will have no expectation about the weather. As long as the Airbnb has heating, you will be grateful to be anywhere in the UK on a minibreak. Accept that you will need warm/dry clothes but also accept that there will be absolutely no-one around to judge your packing.
• No airports need be involved in the making of such a disappearing act – you therefore win by avoiding people and the excess baggage fee (see above).
• It is really easy to get a table in any local hostelry. The food and service are always fab. There are no corporate Christmas dinners booked and not a cracker in sight. Again, take what you can.

Full disclosure, I had no involvement in the making of this getaway. You will know that I am no strategist, that I have little time for detail and that I have been far too giddy with wedding distractions to do any forward planning for Christmas. Thankfully Himself has allowed me to surf the Mother of the Groom wedding wave shamelessly (did I not mention that my son got married recently?!) and has taken matters into his own hands behind the scenes. Maverick.

When I first met Himself, we bonded over a shared love of the Cornish Lizard. I was therefore thrilled that Cornwall was picked as our pre-Christmas destination. On one of our first dates Himself first told me about his family roots in Porthleven, I am embarrassed to remember that I said something along the lines of, ‘I used to take the kids there on summer holiday; impressive harbour and a whopper of a church – fine for an ice-cream but we never stopped there long – not enough beach’. On reflection, Himself needs full credit for not attempting to correct my misconceptions at this time – or even checking that we were talking about the same place. He must have realised that at some point in the future, he would create an opportunity to join the Porthleven dots for me and fabricate a Kernow Caper.

This is an argument for a pre-Christmas getaway tonic and not a travelogue, but in deference to Himself and his patience, I feel I should note my new Porthleven knowledge. Here goes:

• The church is not a church – it never was – but an impressive church-like clock tower built on the harbour wall. It is the Bickford-Smith Institute (BSI) and acts as a community centre for Porthleven folk. Stubborn as I am, I will always view this building as an iconic metaphor offering safety to all those ‘in peril on the sea’. The building is impressive however you view it.
  
• If I had been less interested in ice-cream on previous summer holidays, I might have moved us off the sunny harbour wall and directed us off to the left behind the BSI (see above), then we could have discovered the most amazing expanse of white sandy beach leading to cliff top walks and then Loe Bar. Sorry kids, I short-changed you. You should go back. If you walk the route in reverse you can still have ice cream and warm your backside on the walls of Porthleven Harbour. Great view of the church BSI, by the way.

My arguments for an out of season break are infinite – even better with a companion boasting inside knowledge. Book something now for December 2026. At the risk of being bossy; make this booking now. Even if it is the season for giving, take what you can.

There are admittedly some drawbacks to travelling with a ‘local lad’;

• No cafe is left without a conversation that starts with, ‘I used to be a local lad’, continues with a waitress joining you at the table to compare local intel and local surnames and finishes with the offer of a loyalty card even though Himself now lives over four hours away.
  
• To an outsider ‘Barry and his Bees’ may not be recognised as an iconic local legend, but after a few days sheltering from the wind and rain in Porthleven, even an outsider such as I can infer the reach of this man; Barry not only keeps bees, he turns out to be the uncle of Himself and has either shared his apiculture with any curious Porthlevener and/or served them – back in the day – at his pre-National Trust cafe on Kynance Cove. (This is a loyalty card I wish Himself still owned).
  
• You cannot have a mini break with Himself and expect to have his undivided attention: Love this man and love his bike – at least you get to run/ride together from Porthleven Harbour along the most amazing coastal path and then into Helston…who knew?
  
• Himself is a man of surprises. Although we were only in Porthleven for three nights, his pre-planning and attention to detail ensured that we packed in three evening meals (one including his lovely nephew and partner – both knew Barry very well indeed); two breakfasts at the best cafe on the harbour wall; a walk across the causeway to St Michael’s Mount; a game of Scrabble and a visit to the most surreal pub in Penzance (see below). I feel exhausted just writing about what we packed into these three days away, but I am making the argument for a Prexmas pillage , sorry recharge, so try to ignore any hint of festive fatigue.

Porthleven does Christmas in the most friendly and uncommercial way. Their harbour lights were so pretty (in all weathers) that I felt sad not to be on the beach when Father Christmas made his visit on Christmas Eve morn (honestly it happened, check the local papers). Thankfully our departure (before Christmas Eve) was made a little easier by some lunchtime drinking the day before at the ‘Admiral Benbow’ in Penzance (see above).

The ‘Admiral Benbow’ is itself worth a Prexmas mini-break. While I am only too happy to bow at the feet of Barry and his Bees, the Admiral – a tough, naval, pirate hunter known for his bravery and fierce courage – takes some beating.

Although a lightweight lunchtime drinker, the pub was so packed with ship wreck memorabilia that some grog was needed to make sense of it all. I was in good company; I learn that back in the day Robert Louis Stevenson was also so impressed with this hostelry (and the smuggling tunnels that warren beneath) that he used the venue as inspiration for his novel ‘Treasure Island’. Robbie L-S would understand my calling to use this pub as inspo for this blog as well as a strong argument for a pre-Christmas snifter (research is everything and here it provides proof that my mini break has truly relaxed me. Cheers).

I cannot wait to show Barry (and his Bees) my selfie with an effigy of the Admiral Benbow. Like Benbow – across the bows of time – I left the hostelry feeling legless and noting that the AB and I have the same nose for grog – see the photographic evidence. Admiral.

I publish as we sail smoothly through the Twixmas period, and can report that there is absolutely no ‘Crimbo Limbo’ going on here for we are far too busy looking at rentals for December 2026 – Barry has recharged our glasses by sending us some B&B recommendations for some Cornish Inns as well as some honey-infused rum and these are distracting us nicely from any end of year blues . We are feeling quite buccaneer about January 1st. Our booster has been shot.