The success of this week has been almost entirely a result of local flower celebrity, Becca of The Garden Gate Flower Company, and her recommendations for things to do. We know West Cornwall too well and so strayed too far from the gorgeous Fowey and Lostwithiel area, but next time, we will very much stay put. The other significant influence on this holiday was the National Trust. After much resistance, I finally joined, and I was jolly well going to make the most of it. The NT do do a great job of combining the holy trinity of interesting gardens, lovely and very accessible dog walks, and cake. It became a bit of a pattern that we parked up, walked the dogs, and then I pottered off alone to look at the planting, whilst the rest of the family lolled around in the back of the Land Rover.

First stop: Goldolphin

I loved it. Not what I expected at all, but utterly wonderful. Wild, slightly dishevelled, meadowy, shaggy planting surrounding a most uncompromising granite house. I do often advise people against looking at public gardens for inspiration; it is generally as helpful as looking at a supermodel for fashion tips. But I absolutely adored this one, and I took lots of photos on my phone, even of the incredible seventies gardening books in the potting shed. Fabulous.

Ideas I will also be bringing home:

• Exposing the stems of box plants, so there are box balls scattered amongst trees. This was also on last week’s gardeners’ world and is known as ‘lifting the canopy’. It lightens everything, and gives a sense of softer structure than the usual hedges and edges.

• Just let it grow. I do struggle a bit with this one because I think my soil is just too fertile. Grass left long here was all soft and billowy, whereas mine is so lush and thick that it grows and grows and then topples over. However, is anything more wonderful than a path amongst apple trees?

The potager

This garden is the reason I return to Cornwall, year after year. If pushed to identify my favourite place on the planet, this would be in my top three. (The London postcode SE1, Malus Farm, and Sydney Harbour jostle for the other spots.)

I have tried to unpick what makes it so special, primarily so I can replicate it when I get home, but pinning down the magic is difficult. It is simple and yet complex. The glasshouses remain soul-warming and impressive. The beech hedges that line the walk up the path cast coolness and dignity. The planted up borders that saunter around the edges are intricate and interesting. But the bit that looked better than ever, that I really could imagine picking up and putting down in my own garden, was the vegetable garden.

[Sorry, this video ends very abruptly. The other Dr A can’t have his face on the internet for security reasons and he came round the corner mid-filming.]

The very square hedge to the right of the first shot is a beautiful plant that I have been trying to identify for years. This time, they had some pots of it for sale.

I couldn’t actually buy any because they never would have survived the overall camping with dogs with everything packed into a Land Rover experience, but it did mean I could photograph the label. Confusingly, they seem to be known as both Myrtus ugni and Ugni molinae, but it might be easier to spell ‘Chilean guava’.

Apparently, they are gorgeous to eat (lovely article from Mark Diacono here, who claims rather boldly that “the flavour lives up to the promise of its scent: kiwi, strawberry and something a little spicier, slightly sherbety, almost like bubblegum. It's entirely unique and very addictive.”), they propogate easily from cuttings, and I can personally attest that they make a wonderful alternative to box.

I have managed to source some from Burncoose, and I shall certainly be getting a few plants and breeding them until I have a hedge.

Or a fruit farm, whichever comes first.

The Minack

Not so much a garden as an experience, The Minack is a theatre built into a cliff. Experienced visitors bring blankets and hats and gloves, even in the height of summer.

We are, now, experienced and we have learned the hard way. One year, Tosca was ended halfway through because the lightning threatened to strike the stage. We watched the storm skim the sea in front of us, drawing closer and closer. Infinitely more dramatic than Puccini. This year Measure for Measure. Bits of it excellent, bits of it slightly bizarre.

I was, of course, more taken with the carpets of thyme that lined some of the benches, and the huge aeoniums that thrive in that wild place. Not always my cup of tea, but they are impressive in the right setting.

 I did not do it justice with my photography, so I have to share someone else’s. In my defence, I was carrying a large picnic hamper and a pillow at the time.

Top tip: It is worth paying for the seat’s down the front; they are significantly more comfortable. Second top tip: It is not worth arriving super-early, they don’t let anyone in until 7.30.

 Lanhydrock

The closest to our campsite, and we stopped there as a last hurrah before we left for the drive home. Laden as I was with dogs, I did not go in the formal gardens, although just walking past the house was an experience in itself. The courtyard is full of the most incredible topiary, which gave the sense of chess pieces on a board. We skirted past the house into the garden drive, a semi wild woodland area, full of Magnolia grandiflora, glossy camellias with seedheads as big as apples, and the bluest hydrangeas I have ever seen.

It is not always easy to combine my interests and Maud’s. She likes big spaces where she can chase smells and seek out rivers to paddle in (she gives an impression of swimming, but she can’t actually swim).

I like pathways and borders and gateways and possibly potting sheds.

We do, however, agree on trees. Lanhydrock had some of the best trees I have ever seen. Huge beech trees. As someone who comes from an area famed for its ancient beech trees, it takes a lot to impress me on the Fagus sylvatica front but oh my days. I have never seen the like. Huge. Huge. Majestic. Glorious. There were oaks too, and London planes. Trees and parkland and Cornish hedges, stuffed with honeysuckle. There was even one with a staircase in it.

Coming soon, Gather loves: Cornish villages and some recommendations for lunch.