As I was heading to St Ives, I was trying to remember that nursery rhyme I learnt at primary school: something about a man and his wives and cats and sacks and kits. And I was wondering if the St Ives that I was heading to was the St Ives from the nursery rhyme because when I had typed the destination into our hired TomTom, it gave me a whole list of St Ives’, spread around the country.

As I was heading to St Ives, I discovered that it’s not such a great place to take a campervan. Especially if you haven’t booked a campsite in advance. And particularly if you are following the directions of the TomTom, down some very narrow English lanes with stone walls on either side.

We stayed overnight at Balnoon Camping Site, at took advantage of the 20p per four minute showers. In the morning, we relocated to the car pack above the village, and walked down towards the sea. We didn’t see the Tate St Ives. We didn’t hire a boat or take a trip to view the seals. But we did watch bakers make Cornish Pasties in a window of Cornish town.

We walked along the narrow streets, and took photos of the hanging baskets and heard the seagulls. When around just one more bay, and then just one more. Mum checked the water temperature. Unusually for the British beaches I’ve seen so far, there was sand and people with body boards.

As I was leaving St Ives, I saw a postcard which had the nursery rhyme on it along with a signpost showing St Ives and Lands End. And I thought I had been to the famous St Ives, and the thought sustained me as we walked back up the hill. But then, tonight, I’ve Googled “as I was going to Saint Ives”, and it seems that several towns claim it. Wikipedia, source of all knowledge says: “There are a number of places called St Ives in England and elsewhere.”

So really, I’m none the wiser.

I’ve been to St Ives though – or at least, one of them.

Tash