The kitty followed me in one early morning, and then kept following. It always happened just as I walked down Rose Lane toward the Norway Store for the inevitable. I would pass the Methodist Sunday School, which had the words 'Jesus Saves' clearly etched into the granite, and then out would pop kitty-woo.
"Kitty kitty," I would murmur. And behind me it followed. It really was the sweetest thing.
The first time I stepped into the shop, it followed boldly behind - and I was nervous, for Americans become nervous whenever animals enter a food establishment, for fear of recriminations. I needn't have worried, though, because nobody took any notice of it. Just in case, I spoke to the boy who was organizing something behind the counter.
"Um. Is it allowed for a cat to be in here? It followed me.."
"I don't really know, Miss, but - I think it is." He went back to his organizing, and I went over to pick up the milk. And that day, a precedent was set. Morning after morning kitty-woo saw me coming, and pounced. Not upon me, but behind me. It was hilarious.
Kitty-woo is only one of the sweet and hilarious things I will miss, for here we are, at the airport. No longer in St Ives. And true to tradition, we got ourselves to the airport a full FOUR HOURS IN ADVANCE. People around us are either on their laptops, or smart phones, or are comatose with sleep, or herding their children. It is quite possibly the least favorable part of taking oneself off to Cornwall each year.
But I can sit here and dream. Dream of the fun it will be to see wonderful family members, small and tall, heads bobbing and smiles broad. Yes. That is what I shall do with my four full hours. Dream away, until the dreams become a reality and thoughts become hugs.
See you along the way!