Tintagel Castle

Many travellers desire the sun blazing down on their pale skin as they lay on a white, sandy beach with a good book and a cocktail. I can see the attraction, especially at a harsh time like this, but what we could all use right now is a miracle full of magic and wonder.

As I lay awake in the middle of the night, my mind drifts away to the place I long to be. I close my eyes and visualise an ancient ruin standing on the rugged cliffs of Cornwall. A ruin so ancient that legend says it is where the life of a wonderful man began. A man the world could do with at this moment in time. The man who brought the kingdom back together after the fall of Rome. The only man to pull the sword from solid stone. The one man, whether real or myth, who can bring an abandoned structure back to life in the darkness of my mind.

I imagine myself and my boyfriend edging across the new, red bridge as we admire the clear water beneath us. Its deep, turquoise hue is enough to make wild orcas and dolphins blush!

The waves would crash against the rocks as we follow the stone path hand-in-hand. The crisp, Cornish air would make our starry eyes water and the coastal wind would make us shiver, but the magical spirit of the ghosts of the past would fill us with warmth forever.

As we climb to the top of the cliff, we would see children playing with wooden swords and teenagers testing how close to the edge they can get. Myself and my boyfriend would chuckle at the madness unfolding while enjoying the historical adventure.

We would wait in line to have our photo with the bronze sculpture of Gallos before heading down to a place of peace and solitude: the cove that's home to Merlin's Cave.

We would grab the wooden handrail and do our best not to slip down the million steps as we follow the lengthy queue of tourists in front. Everyone's pace would begin to slow, but we wouldn't know why until we reach the bottom.

Boulders the size of small cars would be stacked between the foot of the steps and the small, shingle cove. I would look down at my floral dress and curse under my breath. "What's wrong?" my boyfriend would ask, completely oblivious to my dilemma. I would raise my eyebrows and gesture towards my stupid choice of clothes while he sniggers at my problem.

My boyfriend would take the first leap over a jagged rock before holding his hand out for me. I try to imagine myself as Guinevere taking Arthur's hand, but we would probably look more like Hobbits climbing Mount Doom instead!

When we make it to the other side, my embarrassment would wash away at the sight of the cove and the opening to Merlin's Cave. Most people we know wouldn't get giddy over characters in myths and legends, but even as I imagine our adventure in the darkness of my room, I can't help but beam with elation.

Merlin's Cave wouldn't seem like much to some; it would be dark, it would be damp and it would be bloody freezing, but the possibility of standing in the home of a legendary wizard would be magical for us.

I would kick a few pebbles with my boot until one jumps out at me from the rest. Maybe a trace of Merlin's magic now lives within the shingles of his beach. I imagine myself picking up a green one and dropping it into my coat pocket. I really shouldn't, but a pebble from a beach will always hold more memories than a keyring from the gift shop.

As our stomachs rumble in unison, we would clamber back over the boulders of Mount Doom and head back up the wooden steps. The smell of Cornish pasties and salted chips would waft from The Beach Café and we'd hurry inside for a table.

We would devour our lunch among the chatter of other tourists and reflect on our historical journey. The ruins, the sea, the sand and the cove, all merging into one. This is the place I long to be; Tintagel Castle in Cornwall.

Although the existence of Arthur is unknown, his spirit will always live on.