I've arrived at the end of a torturous minor road 2 miles south west of St Agnes Cornwall. I've endured some awful weather and feel a chill, not from a haunting but a heavy cold overshadowing me. I've had to come all this way to meet Rhona Goddard, a historian from around these parts. She's a chirpy woman buried under a thick layer of winter woollies and punctuating the end of sentences with 'can you manage'.

Rhona leads the way and we arrive at a cavity in the cliffs at Chapel Porth. My attention not allowed a moment to itself as the ever informative Rhona fills me in with historical, geographical, climatic, demographic detail that has my head spinning. So what of the legend is it worth the trek on such a wet and windy day?

Here Mr Bedford is where the Giant Bolster, collapsed and died for the love of St Agnes. Can you see the red stain to show where his blood once flowed down the rocks into the sea?

What happened, I asked.

All in good time, can you manage?

Somewhat sheltered from the rain, Rhona with the enthusiasm that comes from telling the tale as if it was some local gossip about to be shared for the first time, informs me that the Giant forever proclaimed his love for St Agnes. The Giant was however a married man. St Agnes would only lecture him about his advances.

Well, a woman can only take so much Mr Bedford, all this flirting it can become too much you know. Are you alright there, can you manage?

Rhona continued. St Agnes asked the Giant to prove his love and asked him to fill the cavity with his blood. The Giant Bolster, thinking it would not take much to fill the small hole, cut into a vein and held his arm over the hollow.

Oh dear Mr Bedford, Bolster had been tricked. St Agnes knew that the shaft was bottomless and could never be filled. Bolster bled to death.

Shall we get back for some tea Mr Bedford? Can you manage?