Cornwall, Day 16 (It All Happened at The Sloop)

The BBC has done it again, dear Readers, only I'm not sure that it's Channel 4. I can't really find Channel 4 because this cottage's radio is ancient and isn't readable in that way. You just sort of turn a dial and take what you get. And what we got last night was Opera!

The BBC has lovely opera, and it is down in the kitchen right now singing its heart out to the Brotherly Traveler, who is doing the dishes. He always does the dishes! It's just like at home, where the SconeLady's husband takes great care to do ALL of the dishes, ALL of the time. I am utterly spoiled.

We will get ourselves ready and walk in the glistening morning to Church. But as we get ready for this lovely treat, I remember last night, and The Sloop. The Sloop on a Saturday night was busy. It was full. It was hopping! 

"It doesn't look like there are any tables," I said unnecessarily, as we squeezed through the crowds. But rather than leave and go elsewhere, we plowed on through and stood at the bar. 

"What can I get you?" said the barman, whom I recognized from other such forays.

So we ordered our tame refreshments and stood waiting for something to open up. And then all of a sudden, it did. A blond lady saw us, rearranged a layout, and magically, a table appeared. We sat, at quite close quarters, next to her and an intelligent looking gentleman. It was cozy and lively, and lots of fun to watch the goings on. Dogs lay reposed beneath tables (the table on our other side had TWO dogs beneath it, sort of scrunched up together) and knew the drill. No barking. No unmentionable-ing. No doggy problems at all. It was very sweet.

And then I started actually focussing on what the Brotherly Traveler (BT) was saying. The BT was talking about the design and construction of something very specific and unique; something that nobody else happened to be designing and constructing. 

This became fascinating and I could just about understand it when, from next to us, the intelligent looking gentleman interjected. What he actually said when he interjected was so complicated that I can't possibly (intelligently) convey it. But the BT knew, and clearly spoke the same 'language'. They talked as though they'd know one another for years. It was lovely. It went over my head.

But then the music was about to begin and our space was needed, so the conversation ended. But we left The Sloop smiling, which had nothing to do with tame drinks, or pubs, or dogs beneath tables. It had everything to do with connection, and lives, and instant friendships. As though the meeting had been meant. A God-send. A thing to build upon, in future.

For something tells me this isn't the end of something, but the beginning.


See you along the way!
the SconeLady