A love letter to Truro - from a complete outsider

Ding, dong, ding, dong. My first night at my Truro hotel and I'm being woken up every 15 minutes to the sound of the cathedral's bells.

Shut. Up.

I'm the lightest sleeper - the slightest noise can wake me up. I'm shattered after a long day at work and wish I'd bought earplugs.

Bloody. Bells.

To put this in context - I work for Plymouth Live. I live in Plymouth and I work in Plymouth and I hardly ever leave Plymouth.

But a few weeks ago, my boss asked me if I'd be up for spending a week working for my colleagues at Cornwall Live in their Truro office. I said yes. Evidently.

I got up at 5am on Monday morning and made my way to the railway station, got on a train, and an hour-and-a-half later, through the dense fog, I arrived.

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I've been here a grand total of three times before (sorry!). The first was when I was in my second year at university in 2012. My best friend, who had mates down here, took me for a day trip. I don't remember much - apart from eating a giant pizza and playing a grand piano at Lemon Street Market.

The second time was with my boyfriend (now my fiancé - ahh) in 2015 after my friends had just had a baby. We had a walk around Victoria Gardens and ate at The Old Grammar School.

The third time was with my sister, earlier this year. We wondered around the many independent shops, drank a few cocktails, and bought ourselves a very expensive ring (we were a bit tipsy at this point) from a vintage jewellery shop I can't remember the name of - the cocktails were doing the talking - and buying - at this point.

Sarah eating a Cornish pasty on the decking of the Cornwall Live offices — Me eating a Cornish pasty on the decking of the Cornwall Live offices (Image: Lee Trehela)

What I'm getting at is I have been to Truro, but never really experienced Truro - what it is like to live here. I was pretty excited and intrigued to get a glimpse of what life's really like in the Big City.

And it's been an interesting five days, I can tell you that now.

I'm now on the way back to Plymouth. I'm writing this on a two-carriage train with my laptop precariously balanced on a tiny table in front of me. I've got pizza and wine waiting for me at home, and I can't wait to get back.

But I just wanted Truro, and Cornwall, to know. You're awesome. Bizarre - but awesome nonetheless.

My walk to walk from my hotel in Truro city centre was so nice (Image: Sarah Waddington)

I've eaten at some brilliant places this week (thanks expenses!); I even went to one restaurant, The Thomas Daniell, TWICE because I loved it so much. And on Thursday night I went to a brilliant pub, The Old Ale House, while it hammered it down with rain outside.

I bought a £7.50 beer (expenses don't pay for that - but I regret nothing), which was sublime, and after a few pints (I realise alcohol is featuring a lot in this - maybe that's why I think Cornwall is so great?) I started throwing my monkey nut shells on the floor.

You're totally allowed to do that there.

While we got merry and dried off from the rain, a very soggy man who saw us inside pretended to swim past the window. My sister and I (who'd got the train down to see me) laughed out loud and thanked god we were not outside.

Then I ordered a drink at the bar, a cider for my sister, and the only way the barmaid could describe it to me was by saying, 'It's like going OM NOM NOM NOM!'. Genius. (It wasn't actually that nice, sorry - tasted like Cherry Drops).

I liked the The Thomas Daniell so much, I went there twice (Image: Helen Waddington)

Everyone has been so nice, welcoming and entertaining. Truro is a beautiful place - I even managed to go out on a run on one night (I only lasted 30 minutes until I died of exhaustion) and discovered alleyways and opes I never knew existed.

This morning I was woken up before my 7.15am alarm by the cathedral bells outside my window.

But today I laid and listened to them knowing it would be the last time.

There are no cathedral bells where I live.

I think I'll miss them.