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