"Hello? Is that you, Jean?" I had dialed the phone number out at Carbis Bay, but Jean wasn't sounding very much like Jean.
"Oh, hello? No, this isn't Jean, it's her daughter. Audrey."
Carbis Bay"How nice to hear you, Audrey. Jean and I talked about my stopping up for a cup of tea on Friday.." and so we fixed our plan. I would say goodbye to the Brotherly Traveler at St Erth, and then make my way to where Jean and her cup of tea would be waiting.
On our way to the station, we rolled past the Yellow Canary Cafe, a delightful spot with all sorts of goodies in it. I wanted something nice to go with our tea, and thought the Yellow Canary might be just the ticket. Hmm..I saw some Cornish Pasties (too heavy, I thought); then, some cakes (too sweet), and then my eye was caught by something round that looked like - was that a pork pie? I had seen pork pies on The Great British Bakeoff, and they had looked - well, interesting. The one I saw here was not large, but individual, as you might say. Two, in fact, sitting there looking all delicious.
"Sir, do you think pork pies would suit a lady about my mother's age?"
He looked at me. "Well, pork pies are considered to be quite traditional, Ma'am. And it is likely to suit her right down to the ground."
"Ok, I'll take two of those and two of the custard tarts."
He popped them all into a Yellow Canary bag, and we were off.
Once the BT's train had departed (this was a sad moment), there was a sudden lull. He had waved heartily off, rolling up toward London, and Paddington, and his hotel, and his flight. And I was on my own. Rather bereft..
But - not really, for there would be Jean! I took my treats and jumped on the Carbis Bay train, walking the last little bit up the hill and to her abode.
"Oh? And what's that in the Yellow Canary bag?" she asked, pleased.
"Pork pies!" I said gleefully. "Do you like pork pies?"
"Like 'em? I love 'em!" said she. "And the Yellow Canary's are my favorite."
I had struck gold, it seemed. We visited, and looked at trinkets, and drank tea, and had pork pies. And then custard tarts. They were splendid. I only wished my mother could be there to share them with us.
And do you know what comforted me the most? No one uttered a word about politics.
See you along the way!
photo credit: London Chow <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/53013126@N07/4996671343">Minced pork pie</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">(license)</a>