Illumine Me

Can it really be time to go? Have 5 weeks really passed? They must have because: 

1.  a Yellow Canary crab sandwich awaits pickup at 9:15. 

2.  bags are packed and sit patiently by the door.

3.  kitchen items are dealt with and food tossed.

4. medications, makeup, and battery chargers for the laptop, iPhone, Apple Watch, hearing aids, and AirPods are all accounted for.

It's the fiddly bits that always get me, things that had been put into a Very Safe Place, and then forgotten (chief among these *for a while* was the front door key, which was in a Very Safe Place). But the bits are all remembered now, I'm pretty sure.

BBC Radio Cornwall is burbling away to itself, because I haven't the time to focus on anything but St Ives and the process of leaving it. Grandchildren await my reappearance! Not to mention their grandfather awaiting Same. I had already left St Ives once, but then came back, and...but hold on, Radio Cornwall is saying something about Truro Cathedral, which I love. She is the only cathedral in Cornwall and clearly the most beautiful in the kingdom. Those who look after her are thoroughly devoted to their task which I, and many of you, have seen close up.

So what is BBC Radio Cornwall saying? They are saying that the cathedral needs to reach netZERO for carbon emissions by the year 2030. Apparently it isn't easy to reach netZERO these days, so they want to turn off the soft, pretty illumination lights surrounding the cathedral. Have you ever seen it by night? It's a fair knockout! 

       (I don't have an illuminated picture)

                                                    

Maybe it makes people feel better to attach a number to a problem (zero, 2030, etc), and then hope the number will change. 

Five weeks ago St Ives turned off their street lights in order to reach netZERO while I was stumbling around trying to find my cottage in the dark. It would have helped immensely to have a light or two in the vicinity! 

I tend to lean in the direction of Light, myself. Don't you? And Light is what Truro Cathedral is all about (just ask the Docents), and somehow the idea of it sitting alone in the dark all night sounds sad. 

You are the Light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden.

Neither do people light a lamp and hide it under a bushel. Instead they put it on a stand

and it gives Light to everyone in the house. Let your Light so shine before men.

Matthew 5:14-16

I am on the train now, watching bright green pastures flying past my window. There isn't a trolly lady this time, but a trolly man who is the jolliest trolly person I've ever seen! He constantly brings the weary travelers his sandwiches, fruitcake, flapjacks, horribly salty chips, and tea. 

I will make the dash for home tomorrow, where my loved ones wait and the Light of the world will not be hidden. 

(I just hope the plane has snacks and water and perhaps more than just one meal!).

"I'm gonna let it shine"

See you along the Way!

the SconeLady

You Never Know With Californians

                      

Sunrise this morning

 It is lovely sharing Cornwall with my California friends, whose names are Alex, Sam, Katie, Levi, and Jude. I had heard it would be a hilarious adventure. I had heard that wherever they go, there would be fun. There is!

 They all piled into their car yesterday to visit St Michael's Mount, climbing all the way up to the Castle church where stands the magnificent statue of St Michael, subduing Satan. It is no joke climbing up those steep, rough hewn cobblestone lanes because it can be tough on the ankles. But if you ever do it and survive, you will be rewarded by the beauty of that church, its view, and its statue. 

                                                 

Because my friends are here in England to celebrate their grandmother's 100th birthday, the St Michael's Mount people gave them complimentary tickets to the Mount! That is no small savings. Also, because she had reached 100 years, their grandmother received a letter from King Charles himself, delivered to her by his own agent dressed in beautiful royal clothing! Which they witnessed. And which the other people in her care home witnessed. They were the party guests! 

(A note about cars in Cornwall: if you use GoogleMaps you had better watch out, because you might find yourself guided smack dab onto a sidewalk-sized 'road' for miles and, if another car is coming your way? Somebody is going to have to drive all those miles BACKWARDS to the beginning!)

 Alex has it figured, but - man!

The Californians having Thai at Talay

 Have you ever gone surfing in absolutely freezing water in Cornwall in October? Well, guess who did this thing today? The Californians, of course! My photos of it haven't come through yet, but Levi and Jude were awesome.

 How brave do you have to be to tumble into what feels like ice cubes in a tub, with SCARCELY A SHRIEK (at least, I didn't hear them shriek). Over and over they plunged, further and further to where the locals surfed as if the water was as warm as Hawaii. When their dad finally said, "Time to go, guys!" there was a hesitation. "But - just one more, dad! Please?"

 When the surfing ended, the kids rested and we went on a loop hike that might have felt longer than it was (just think: BOULDERS). I did not know it yet, but we had set foot upon the South West Coastal Path! I recognized those boulders from the day Emmie and I vowed we would "never climb another boulder". 

 And yet, our small part of the Coastal Path is survivable. This was because: 

1. a nice farmer came by on a piece of machinery and told us we were on the right path, and that we would recognize 'more than two' styles ahead.

2. my companions gave me their strong hands up and over the boulders, and then up and over the several unexpected styles. 

3. my iPhone did not die.

4. Sam kept up a cheerful tone and made sure the SconeLady's feet were on the right hunk of granite (style).

5. Alex gave us helpful updates on the trail with his Trail App. Until his iphone died.

6. I don't like styles.

7. I like styles in about the same way David Copperfield liked Uriah Heep.

8. I like styles about like I like Marmite.

 At last, as we spilled out onto Burthallen Lane and saw Godrevey Lighthouse in the distance, we knew we were home free. It was a great day! I can't wait to see what happens tomorrow. You never know with Californians.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

My traveling companions

a 'style' (cattle grid)

Change of Scene

 I admit that Port Isaac is a beautiful spot - there is no denying it! But I am not there anymore. Beginning tomorrow I will be sharing photos with you that are NOT of that place. Here are a few lovelies from Port Isaac that I managed to capture between rain storms and sunny skies. 

 St Ives is welcoming me back with stunning seas still robust and a bit pushy. But with the addition of great California friends who arrived here just before I did, I am in my element - walking the cobbles of Fore Street, showing off the Wharf, and finding coffee joints too many to number. How to choose? And which place has the best scones in town? THAT was a poser. We discovered there is just too much food here to choose from: the Thai place called Talay, the ex-Seafood Cafe that is now called 'Ardor', Onzo Pizzaria on the Wharf, the Firehouse Bar & Grill which has warm chocolate brownies with ice cream, the Bier Haus Grand Cafe that serves German food PLUS waffles, the Mor store that has the best lunchy sandwiches ever, The Sloop, a pub favored by the locals here, and of course there is the everlasting Balancing Eel that feeds practically all of St Ives. 

It's all about food, right now. And I will start with a chocolate twist/loaf tomorrow morning. My, but it's good to be back.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

                                                                

Fisherman's Friends and Doc Martin

The SconeLady visits Fern Cottage

I am going to start watching Doc Martin right away! He is in my mind now, and the minds of about 20 walking tour tourists who for 2 hours today learned just about everything there is to know about him. The best part was that our guide had actually BEEN IN THE SHOW! I'm going to turn it on and see if I can find him. His name is Mike and he was an Extra.

 At the beginning of the tour, the guide wowed us all by saying, "Do you see those two white haired gentleman standing by that boat?" We did see them. "Well, guess what? Those are two of the real Fisherman's Friends!" 

 There was a momentary silence as we all took this in. Then everyone pretty much freaked out, gasping and grabbing smart phones and taking pictures of the backs of their heads (they knew we were a tour group and would likely ignore their privacy). The man on the left is Jeremy, who is still an active member of the Fishermen's Friends - which means that I just saw him performing at Sandy Acres! The man on the right is John, who started the Fisherman's Friends but has retired from them. 

Jeremy and John, Fisherman's Friends

I always think it's exciting to see someone who is famous. I have seen Kevin Costner twice, Hugh Laurie once, Haley Joel Osment twice, Strom Thurmond once, Debbie Reynolds once, and - full disclosure - I possess a curtain ring that used to belong to Barbra Streisand.  

 My husband does not think about famous people the way that I do (for example, he would never be seen on a walking tour about them). If Tom Cruise himself turned up at our house my husband would probably think he was the exterminator, and start to tell him about the bees in the living room. 

 I just now started watching Doc Martin! The cinematography of Port Isaac is utterly stunning, both in the show and in real life. They did a terrific job of filming those rolling green hills and stark blue seas, all while telling a compelling story. The tour guide told us that Martin Clunes (who played Doc Martin) kept everybody cheerful on set by his kindness and humor, and would do 30 takes of a scene without getting upset. The lady pharmacist with a neck brace, the large handyman Al and his son Al, the cray-cray receptionist at the doctor's surgery, and the big black dog who jumped in Doc Martin's window were all just as important as he was. 

I will watch the next episode tomorrow and let you know if I see our tour guide Mike being an Extra. He's hilarious already, don't you think?

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

 

I don't want to talk about That

The SconeLady's bags are packed

 St Ives gave me quite a shocking sendoff today, a real proper storm. This storm reminded me of my poor sister in Florida who has gotten to know their hurricane on a first name basis. Other family members close by are also threatened, as well as some of the grandchildren who are concerned about water overflowing the dam near their city of Spartanburg, SC. I can hear the  pings! of my laptop, updating us and asking for ever more prayers. 

 My taxi driver to Port Isaac today was the happiest driver I've ridden with. I had just gotten off the train at Bodmin Parkway, dragging a ridiculously heavy roller bag in a dreadful, knock-you-off-your-feet wind. I was supposed to go up 20 steps, then walk a ways to go back down 20 more steps. But the taxi man showed up smiling as I was attempting this feat. He took it off my hands and said, "Madam, for a small suitcase, this one sure is heavy." Understatement.

Cottage in Port Isaac

 As we got underway, he told me that 30 years ago his mother had taken him to Cornwall 'on holiday'. That was when decided to live here one day, to move while he was still young and fit, and start a driving business. Twenty years later, he is still young and fit (from my point of view!), and has made a great success of his driving business. I can testify to that because as we drove, his phone just rang and rang from people who had last-minute travel needs and couldn't he help them out? Oh please? He was so completely booked up that I was VERY THANKFUL I HAD PLANNED HIM AHEAD. 

 I have found that taxi drivers often want to talk about American politics to their American customers in the back seat, because they are a captive audience. But this man never dipped his toe in that water. He didn't even hint about people whose skin, for whatever reason, might be orange. It was a great comfort to me. Last week when my friends and I went on a long walking tour with some other people, one of the people wanted to talk about That, only I didn't want to. So Friend-Rosie and Our Em walked close to me on either side as protectors. Sometimes you need your own Secret Service.

Port Isaac Harbour

 I am in a new cottage now, and you can see it is cute and is where Doc Martin was filmed. It is also where the Fisherman's Friends movies were filmed, and everywhere I look there are tourists sheepishly taking pictures of the famous places they remember from the films. I don't remember very much about Doc Martin, but I do know where his little house and surgery were/are. And where the school is/was. There are signs up on these important places that say, "Please respect our privacy". Which means we probably shouldn't be taking the photographs.

 But we take them anyway. We even take pictures of the signs themselves, "Please respect our privacy." We can't help it. Today I saw a tourist walk up to Doc Martin's little house and surgery, and try to GO INSIDE. It was terrible! The SconeLady would absolutely never do a thing like that. 

(Well ... almost never).

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Doc Martin's little house/surgery

Foggy Pathways

 

 A terrific walk in St Ives is called the 'Half Coffin Trail'. At least, that is my name for it. It is for people who maybe shouldn't do the Coffin Trail alone - I will admit it right now: I am one of those. It isn't that I couldn't  do the whole Coffin Trail alone. There are only 5 miles of walking, through pastures and greenery too lovely for words. The trouble is getting up and over the styles. My sisters and brother would agree and not want me to leap up and over them without the strong hand of Friend-Rosie or Walking Tour Guide Tony. 

 So I shortened it, and find walking the half bit, which takes you to Man's Head Rock, to be perfect. And there aren't any styles. Hurray. Another reason I like going up there is that Carol's house is there. Carol is a generous, funny, and welcoming lady who owns a beautiful black grand piano and a baritone saxophone (I think that is what it is. It is perfectly huge). When I saw those two things as I passed the living room, I was shocked and said something complementary about them.

"Oh - do you play?" she asked.

I said I did, at least the piano, and she said go play it, and I did. Having been away from my own grand piano (it is mahogany), I had missed it terribly but knew of no way I could find one to practice on. Enter Carol!

Her husband, who works from home, sat back in his office chair and listened. She listened from the kitchen. It was fun to have such a nice audience of two, as I tried to think up pretty things for them to hear, just like in my olden days. I played everything from favorite hymns to the Beatles, a real mixup of tunes. Halfway through 'Yesterday' I heard the gentle rattling of a tea tray being placed next to me. A real proper setup it was, too - the teapot with a tea cozy on it, sugar cubes and cream, and all in pretty porcelain. Lovely.

                                                 

When it was time to go, I strode forth to finish the Half Coffin Trail, and then - what was this? a fog began to settle down around me. That was odd. It had been sunny before Carol's house. About a mile into the walk, two young Dutch women asked me which direction they should take to reach Man's Head Rock, and St Ives. Well! I knew the answers to that question, and said "Come along! we can go together."

 I knew where I was going, of course I did - but there was something strange about the pathway. In the fog the path was overgrown and shouldn't have been. I was wearing short pants, and started feeling scratchy bushes, and even what felt a lot like ... like nettles. 

"These are nettles!" I said, "I don't think this is the right path."

"We don't either," the younger one said. 

 It was embarrassing, I tell you! The SconeLady knows the Coffin Trail and the Half Coffin Trail and could practically walk them both in her sleep. We turned around.

 I apologized, but they said oh no, it was their fault because they had been in front of me and got off on a wrong path, which I had followed. 

We retraced our steps in the fog until we could see other people's heads bobbing up and down. And then there was Man's Head Rock, and there was St Ives! We cheered, and the Dutch ladies went their way down the soft green grasses so much more welcoming than nettles. I followed. 

You know what? I think I'll stick to participating in walks from now on, instead of leading them. 

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Beginnings of Goodbyes

A group of women gathered in Jean's living room today to talk, eat scones, and laugh. We didn't want it to be a 'goodbye', but what else could it possibly be? Tomorrow is my last day in St Ives, and then the machinery will begin to roll along, taking me somewhere else.

Somehow the subject of weaving came up, and I was thrilled to hear all about how Jean had been a weaver in Manchester for many decades. Weaving is no joke, and you have to be on your toes to keep all your fingers. Jean's sister lost 3 of her fingers on one of the machines but the company said it was her own fault. Great Scott! In the end, the doctors attached her little finger in the place of her pointing finger. I am not making this up.

Today's scones were kindly baked by Pennie and served the Devon way - jam first, clotted cream on top. Jean's daughters made the tea, served the scones, and stood by while the rest of us cheerfully consumed them. Watching the girls watching their mother reminded me that not so very long ago, my own sisters and brother and I stood by our mother to make sure she had everything she needed. It was a privilege; I saw today that they also felt that privilege.

Thinking of this, I pulled out a photo.

"This is my mother," I said, showing it with daughterly pride.

"Oh my goodness!" someone said. "How old is she?"

"Well, she was 99 years old when this was taken... just two months before she died."

"What?!" said all, in a variety of decibels. My pride inched up a little more. I had shared with them before about her raising 11 children and hoisting bales in the summer heat while I drove the 4-wheeler in comfort. She went through the Roaring Twenties, the Great Depression, World War II, then survived the Sixties with a passel of teenagers. Now that right there is a miracle!

12/09/23

The ladies were so complimentary about my mother and I that I just about busted a button. It's fun to have other people noticing your 99 year old mother.

Presently, we gathered our belongings (mine were the usual 5 layers and several things hanging off my backpack) and began walking toward the door.

"Goodbye, goodbye, we love you Jean!" Pennie and I called out, accompanied by the excited barking of two little dogs who absolutely MUST have the last word. 

I think I'm going to miss those guys. They notice me.

See you along the way!

The SconeLady

Rain on a Cliff

 

                                                   

Pirates of Penzance, 2024

Some time during this upcoming year, a message will arrive in the phone or computer of Friend-Rosie and her ever eager sister, Em. First it will be a message about the cottage on Rose Lane, the place we can't wait to see and never want to leave, with an AGA inside! (my fingers are already starting to twitch toward the Cottage Boutique Search page).

Then there will be messages surrounding the Minack Theatre on the cliff. You can see for yourself the results of all this messaging and purchasing. You can also see the weather we experienced. Three-fourths of our visits were absolute GEMS. The only rainy, stormy, water-in-your-shoes type experience we had turned out to be fun anyway. How could it not be? We looked so ridiculous and laughed so much that no one could possibly be cross.

Our dear Em had not been able to come that year (2022), and when we asked Ted if he wanted to sit on a rainy cliff watching Mr Rochester hide his crazy wife in the attics, he said no. So the two of us went up, up, up to a far away car park, and - I'm not just perfectly sure how it happened, but anyway, we didn't have the car keys. So Rosie ran all the way back down to get them, only Ted couldn't hear her knocking. She banged and banged and hollered, wondering if he might have gone to The Sloop for a pint of Wallup.  

Well, more things happened, but the details have faded. The keys were finally found and when we arrived late (just as Helen Burns lay dying on the stage), it was okay because the car park man put us in the Handicapped spot closest to the front. 

When I, my sister, and the Amazing Larry saw the HMS Pinafore (2021), we loved it for a really very good reason. Our father had played the part of Nanki Poo in High School, and that had made him (almost) famous. As children we had played that record over and over until each song was perfectly memorized (and probably scratched to death). At the Minack, we sang our hearts out just as if we were the players on stage.

But then look how far away from the stage I was at The Fisherman's Friends (2023)! The Minack had sold me their absolute last ticket, up at the extreme top of the cliff. The men were tiny stick figures down there, but somehow the sound crew had whipped up a system where everyone could hear every word. 

Our visit to the Minack last week might not have been as dramatic as the day it was raining sideways. But there were four of us this time, and if you had been too, you'd have seen four beaming grins up in section 'B'. 

I don't know if we will see the Minack again next year, because it depends upon what is playing. On our way back down the hill, Em asked me, "And what would you like to see on the Minack stage?"

I thought for a bit. "Les Miserables, maybe...?" 

But that seemed a bit off the minute I said it. Les Miserables is sad, and you can't have hundreds of people trying to climb granite steps while bawling their eyes out.

The Fisherman's Friends, 2023

Jane Eire, 2022

HMS Pinafore 2021

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Sometimes There Is Cake

Trencom Hill, September 20, 2024

 I am perfectly set up for a tasty dinner (Margarita Pizza from the wharf), and have looked forward to eating it all day. My friends have gone home now, so I had to forage for food alone and without their expertise. Their food expertise is amazing and I always learn new things when they are around. And anyway, I knew enough to forage for the Margarita Pizza all by myself.

 I ate the first half of it for last night's dinner, and already knew that it was brilliant. Then I saw a cake in a window. It was a four layer chocolate cake with thick chocolate icing in between (both ingredients were unbelievably dark and very irresistible). I paused. 

The cake was in a tea shop that used to be called Madelines's, back when my sister and I came here and felt like having cake. The trouble that day was that the cake looked delicious but wasn't, and we never went back in there.

 I had to admit, though, that today's cake truly was delicious, and wonderfully moist. The lady behind the counter stood transfixed, watching me eat it (this was not altogether comfortable). My little table allowed me to look out the window to the world of St Ives - its never-ceasing shoppers, tourists, locals, dogs, its occasional cats, and rare policeman. It was raining a little, but those within were cozy and warm.

I thought of my friends, so recently whisked away. Our Em had gone back home the day before, hoping to make it in time to bake a Victoria Sponge for church the next day. Friend Rosie had driven north to see a beautiful daughter whose face is never without a smile. And I can pretty well guess that the first thing they all did when they got home was to put the kettle on. 

They are always putting the kettle on. And sometimes, there is cake. 

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

P.S. I just noticed -at the bottom of this page- a video from the Fisherman's Friends concert. I don't know how it got there, but it belongs to the one called 'They Are Hollywood'. Watch it! It's a good one.

They Are Hollywood

St Uni Church yesterday

 My dear Readers, after we did some reconnaissance surrounding the concert, we did get to see and hear THE FISHERMAN'S FRIENDS!! Reconnaissance is an important ingredient when it comes to a concert venue, and friend Rosie was a Brick to take us all out to Hayle. There we found:

-there would be food provided (an Ann's Pasties booth) (for a cost)

-there would be toilets (free port-o-potties)

-I would probably need a chair

-there would be good parking (for a cost)

-and beer. There would be lots of beer.

There was a little bit of a shock when we first saw how EXTREMELY LONG the queue was for the Pasties. But the taste of the Pasties was actually so good that no one worried about the line after that. In fact, the Cornish were jolly about absolutely everything. They held beer glasses and big grins on their faces no matter what queue they were in. The Cornish girls had to be cold because the poor things hardly had any outdoor clothes on at all. The Cornish boys were not at all unhappy about the outdoor clothes, and liked the girls and were jolly.

At some point in the queue I remembered the 1969 event called 'Woodstock' where thousands of Youth crammed themselves onto a farmer's field and proceeded to royally mess it up. Of course it rained, and after that nobody could find the loo's and everything fell to bits. Only no one cared. There was lots of beer and other entertaining things for the Youth to do.

Do you remember it? Of course you do. I do even though I was not there. My mother ...

 friend Rosie suddenly remembered something about Woodstock. Not the American Woodstock in New York. It was the British Woodstock which happened at almost the same time as ours did. Not as enormous, but the two events had something in common - it was possible that hardly anybody remembered what happened. Anyway, friend Rosie was there, and when I heard this I began to pump her with Woodstock questions. This lasted until almost the end of the Pastie line.

Then about mid-Pastie, something wonderful happened. A line of men began to take the stage and pick up their instruments and smile at us to beat the band, and played. It was Loud, but just the right amount of Loud so as not to knock your block off. I was not even sure they were THEM, and had to ask the lady next to me.

"Is that THEM?" I sort of shouted. She looked at me like, "Well duh!", but replied,

"Yep! It's THEM!" 

I couldn't help it and began jumping up and down the way I had at the Brandon Lake/Phil Wickham concert in August. Jumping up and down and round and round, until I got tired and stopped to listen. By that time they were on the 3rd song. Oh, they were grand! They were nice. They liked us. And we, dear Readers, liked THEM back.

I never could figure out if the two Cornish singers from the night before were a part of THEM, but it didn't really matter. The Fisherman's Friends are in a class by themselves. As one St Ives man said, "Oh, them? They're Hollywood now. They're not Cornish."

But I think differently about all that. They are not only Cornish, they have put 'Cornish' on the map of the world, and people are wanting more.

They sang without a break for an hour and a half, doing encores and laughing and being hilarious. The guy with a super deep voice was especially hilarious, and bounced around on the stage in the fun of just being a part of it. 

But it became time to stop, and they left, and then we left, laughing about it all the way back to the car park. I still can't believe I jumped around like that. Have you ever done it?

It's kind of fun.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

While the Balancing EEL Feeds St Ives

 Our final day in this cottage always brings on a sort of melancholy, so we ease our pain with Fish and Chips.

We decided long ago that the best place for this kind of treat is most the Balancing EEL, whose queue extends all down the street. This tells you a lot about the Balancing EEL because waiting in that line is not for the faint-hearted. The only people who left the line were two EMTs who, just as they were opening their mouths to say, "we would like a...", were called away to kneel next to a tourist and help him in his hour of need.

 As you stand in long lines like this, there is always something or someone interesting to watch. The three of us (Ted may have been having a pint) glanced around at some of these interesting things, but soon found that watching the guys behind the counter was the most entertaining.  There was a ton of noise, but when the boss-lady shouted out an order, the guys heard and obeyed. Just think of something so grand as a white fish (Hake) being battered and egged and salted and peppered in a pan of boiling oil next to another pan of boiling oil filled with fries. The smell was so good that everybody's mouths watered in unison.

The SconeLady's sense of smell took a nosedive during the pandemic. But it came back INSTANTLY when the oil hit that fish and those fries. 

Our order was ready about 45 minutes later, and we felt we had really better get cracking. A man's's sense of patience goes only so far when there is nothing wrong with his sense of smell.

So we dashed. But two singing men along the wharf caught my attention. I listened. They sounded familiar, and here we are in Cornwall where all kinds of strange things are known to happen.

"Are you the Fisherman's Friends?" I asked shyly when they had finished their song, clinking their bottles together and laughing with two blondes.

The man on the left winked slowly at me and said, "Well, we are friends of the fishermen.." and started another song. Well now, I don't know if they were or if they weren't. But tomorrow we will SEE the Fisherman's Friends in a concert at Sandy Acres (I will tell you ALL ABOUT IT AFTERWARD!!) and we will figure it all out.

I can't wait, dear Readers, to be up there at Sandy Acres with hundreds of other Fisherman's Friends admirers, probably standing in huge lines for Ann's Pasties, huge lines for toilets and beers, and huge lines for other warming drinks. Me? I'll stick with water as these Friends take the stage and start singing something hilariously wonderful like, "It's All Part Of Being A Pirate". Why?

Because you can't be a pirate with all of your parts.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Did They Have The Magic?

Looe Estuary

 It was another day of food, this time in the village of Looe where the Sardine Factory drew us in and fed us well. It had all started with friend Rosie and our Em discovering The Great British Menu streaming show after Rosie had hurt her knee and Em came to comfort her. They sat on the couch over the span of one weekend, and became addicted to it. 

The BBC comes up with some good things to watch if you can figure out how to set up and use BBC iPlayer. Since I am an American it is a little bit harder to do this; there seem to be road blocks that are hard to figure out. But tonight both these smart ladies helped me learn how to manipulate a Sony television and the iPlayer so that we could sit on our couch here in St Ives and become addicted.

The reason we were determined to watch the Great British Menu is that we ate at one of the winning chefs restaurants today! Chef Benjamin Palmer. It is called the Sardine Factory, which ordinarily would have put me off because I have a low view of sardines. But there were hardly any sardines there today so there was nothing to be put off about. Here are just a few of the things we ate:

Crispy fried potato skins

Cloud Bread with special butter

Scallops

Hake

Smash Burger with skinny chips

Yellow beetroot

Homemade vanilla and Cornish clotted ice cream with lemon curd

(There are some things not listed here because I couldn't remember their names, and people have all gone to bed now. But tomorrow I will make appropriate additions and corrections to this anemic list).

Once we had eaten ourselves under the table, I took off on a 4 mile woodland walk from Looe to Polperro. I had seen and heard a lot about Polperro on Instagram, and was very excited to see what all the excitement was about. The entire walk was mesmerizingly gorgeous. The day itself was too, surrounding me with a light breeze, emerald green rolling hills dotted with white sheep and crystal blue skies. It was a good thing I have got my St Ives legs back because, man!. I had to walk practically straight up. 

Another reason for wanting to see Looe and Polperro was to find out if either of them might have the magic of St Ives. Do you think they did, dear Readers? Is it possible to find a place in Cornwall that is as magical as that?

In a word or two, no, but both were beautiful and charming in their own way - as is Cornwall itself every day of the year. But soon I will actually be staying for one week in another Cornish village that is NOT St Ives. It's a sacrifice giving up a whole week to this search, and I'm thinking - if that village doesn't have it, I need look no further. 

I've left my heart in St Ives Cornwall, 

high on a hill it calls to me.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Along the Coffin Trail (Ted's Head 2024)

We are back to following Ted again. It's an easy thing to do because he is so imminently followable, what with the shock of bright hair and the red coat. Only once every little while did we experience an accidental change in course that was not on the plan sheet. 

Ted is a man with a sense of direction I do not have, and probably never will. He keeps a sense of humor when we become lost. He climbs up every style, no matter how hideously complicated they might be. He gives us his hand to help us conquer the dazzling array of styles you will find along the Coffin Trail. (HOW did those folks from hundreds of yers ago pick up and carry coffins over those styles? It is a frequent point of discussion).

 One year we heard that there were almost 37 styles to traverse along the trail from Zennor to St Ives. We instantly denied this pronouncement because a person would have to be off his nut to go on a trail with 37 styles to climb over. We thought we had better count them, though, just in case, and would you like to know what we discovered? That there weren't 37 styles at all. There were 53 (numbers are approximate)!

 People on trails want to share about the height and span of the styles they have conquered - and they want to ask us about our styles. Yesterday a man walking a Lagotto Romagnono(Truffle Hunter)  told us that there were 8 more styles to climb before arriving in St Ives. Eight did not sound very terrible, but in actual fact there turned out to be at least twice that many. 

 But I must pause my tale. There is more to tell you! Can you wait a bit? because my eyes are at half staff. One of the really nice things I want to tell you about is the magnificent AFTERNOON TEA we had at the Ugly Butterfly today! I am still feeling the effects of it. And another thing is how fun it was to spend half a day at the UNA Spa in Carbis Bay being pampered, and swimming, and sitting in a Sauna and Steam room, and eating their delightful English breakfast. I am still feeling the effects of...

 But I must really pause my tale...

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

I Hope They Didn't See The Safety Pins

 Early this morning we padded down to the sea for a Wild Swim. We had experienced this major feat yesterday morning too, and I am happy to announce to my Readers that I did not scream. It was hard, but I found that covering your mouth can be a great help. The scream comes out more as a choke.

 Whenever we go wild swimming, people look at us as if we were mad. Really, I can hardly blame them. Diving into the Celtic Sea containing jellyfish in a bathing suit at 7:30 in the morning is borderline crazy. To add to this, we had been told by another wild swimmer that the jellyfish in there might sting us and other would-be swimmers. This was sad news and very nearly had the effect of forcing me to go back to bed. That's when I spotted a huge ship in the bay that looked impressively Naval. Friend Rosie said it was the same vessel she and Em had seen in St Ives Bay during the G7 summit, thrilling the locals: 

   "The HMS Prince of Wales was stationed just outside of St Ives Bay overnight. At 280 metres long, the aircraft carrier dwarfed the coastal town making for spectacular views for onlookers. The 65,000-ton behemoth made the popular resort look tiny as it dominated the coastline looking towards the Celtic Sea."

The jellyfish lady was wearing a bikini and told us she had been daring enough to stand on the sand waving her arms at the Royal Naval officers on deck (I told you wild swimmers were mad).

HMS Prince of Wales

 After the excitement of freezing ourselves, it became time for church and singing in the choir for the Opening of the Festival. It was a very exciting time for the church because the Mayor was coming, and everyone was ready to welcome him. 

 When I put on my red surplice (there is a red one and a white one) another choir lady said it looked too long and I might trip. She was right, and proceeded to very kindly get some safety pins and shorten it. We worked on it feverishly in the choir room because it was nearly time to start church and see the Mayor. Putting safety pins into clothing suddenly reminded me of college days, when there wasn't any money for anything but safety pins (3/4 of my clothes were held together in those days by safety pins, and I feel sure that I still have a complex about it).

 Now everyone else was lining up, but I still didn't have on my white surplice! I threw it over my head and tried to find the sleeve holes. They must have gone missing! The safety pin lady tried to help me find them but however hard we tried, the more tangled up it became. Around the surplice went as more ladies lent a hand to help. In the end, my hair was a mass of static electricity that nothing could tame. Great Scott! Only to an American Baptist could something like this happen in High Church.

 But the line began moving out the choir door, and peace settled over the group. In the sanctuary the parishioners stood and were invited to sing the first hymn, "Jerusalem", just about the most beautiful hymn  in existence. All thoughts of surplices, and static electricity, and safety pins faded. At the tops of their voices, everyone, including the Mayor and his wife at the front, sang:

"And did those feet in ancient time

walk upon England's mountains green?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant Land".

 See you along the Way!

the SconeLady

HMS Prince of Wales, St Ives Bay