Sunday, September 28, 2014

Cornwall, Day 1: Playing Houses

We landed on our feet, but it was an uncertain start. The SconeLady left something important in the taxi!

Alright, now that I have confessed this near miss, I can joyfully tell you that we reached the taxi man's boss, who through a crackling dispatch reached him, who through the crackling dispatch said yes he had the important item and would have it there in short shrift. Danger averted! Frightened thoughts calmed and (almost) forgotten. Adventure back on track!

And so, we were at last turning the key to our fisherman's cottage near the shore. The sweetness of the place enchanted the SconeLady, and surely her husband as well. We dumped all our belongings in a haphazard way, then locked up and went to scope out our new town. The darling harbor village was out in full force, showing off its charms left and right. Lights were bright, couples were out for a Saturday evening stroll, children were in their prams, fast asleep. It was a time for fun.

We wanted to find the most British looking pub we could. You might ask how a British pub could not look British, but it has happened before. We wanted a pub that was warm and friendly, with the occasional shout out and perhaps darts flying somewhere. A lit fireplace would also be nice. We really just wanted to be reminded of when we lived this side of the Pond. 

We found a pub, cozy and boisterous and jolly, all in one. We squeezed into a tiny booth at the top, edging our way by unspoken agreement up to the furthest spot from the music below. I am not saying, really, that the music was bad. I am just saying that it was loud. That is all. As a musician myself, I try to steer clear of these judgments (I remember once looking toward the back of an audience and seeing a woman sitting with her hands pressed over her ears. Oops).

So we sat, he with his pint, me with my Pepsi, and talked. We still hadn't caught up on all of each other's news...or, at least we tried to talk. Soon it became apparent that the music would preclude this effort. And so we drank our glasses empty, and left.

Groceries were carried back, and soon the welcome feeling of playing 'houses' settled in. Placing each item in its own rightful spot. Thinking of what I might make with it, tomorrow. Planning as I worked. All the fun of a fun holiday, in advance. Still at the early stages. Still wide-eyed.

And getting sleepier by the minute! But I must describe to you first the quirkiness of the cottage we are in: a cottage with FOUR FLOORS in it. That's right, a room at the very bottom (kitchen), with a room above it (sitting room), with a bedroom above the sitting room, and another bedroom above that. FOUR! Hmm. This bears some thinking. But it is so darn cute that I can almost forgive its many steps.

In the meantime, here's to adventures! Here's to beaches! Here's to cream scones!

I'm diving right in.

See you along the way!
the SconeLady

photo credit: <a href="">J Mark Dodds [a shadow of my future self]</a> via <a href="">photopin</a> <a href="">cc</a>

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