The Garden Party

"But - I have an event!"

It was 5:00 pm, I had just dragged my bags into the new cottage, and the Vicar's Garden Party would begin at 6:00. But there was no hair dryer.

The lady on the other end of the phone said,  "I'm sorry about that, Madam, but as you see in the fine print, a hair dryer will not be provided to your cottage. Don't you have a Tesco or a Co-op or something like that where you could nip down and purchase one before the event?"

"I would love to be able to 'nip down' and purchase one. But I have no car to nip. And the garden party..."

"I'm sorry, Madam, but the fine print.." 

We were getting nowhere, and it wasn't really the lady's fault. So I gave up, forgot the hair dryer, and started walking. The Vicar would be waiting.

Have you ever gone to a Vicar's Garden Party? I had come close once, but it was to the Lord of a Manor's kitchen where we were offered cake and coffee. A Vicar's Garden Party would be something altogether different.

I was nervous, a bit, not being sure how one behaved in Vicar's gardens when one is the only American there. But I peered around until I saw Margaret, one of the Alto's from the choir, and attached myself to her. It was the exact right thing to do, because she instantly introduced me to everyone within ear shot, and we were on our way.

The garden party wasn't really that different from gatherings in American back yards. People stood about chatting and laughing, eating potato crisps served out to us by the Vicar's children. They were enchanting. The Vicar lit the BBQ and the choir Master's wife told me about their children who are wonderfully musical, and that she is a niece of JRR Tolkien! and one of her children was named 'Reuel' because of that.

 At some point I needed to find the restroom so the Warden's wife indicated where I might find it. 'Might' is the key word here, for I did not find it. But I did see the downstairs rooms and was thrilled, because the rooms were very like my HGTV shows that tell all about how to replace tile with hardwood and walls are crisply white. It was all so thrilling that I forgot why I was in the house in the first place. Someone finally came and found me.

Eventually the wind became even more of a gale, so after eating a lovely dessert I had never had before (a layered mouse/chocolate item) Margaret and I said our goodbyes and she gave me a ride back. We both agreed it had been a wonderful Vicar's Garden Party, and I told her the Vicar's children reminded me of some other wonderful children from over the Pond, whom the SconeLady very much misses. 

A life with British people and British customs in it can be jolly nice, I am finding. The choir Master's wife glanced over at me while I was explaining something about American people to a small group of British people. She smiled, and I felt that little things like that can cover a multitude of talking heads.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

 

Perfectly Heavenly

(As I write to you, there is a scary thunder and lightning storm out over the sea, directly in my line of sight. My, that is noisy). 

Cats of St Ives:

It has been years since this perfectly heavenly white cat has let herself be seen by the SconeLady. The one and only Tourguide Tony apparently sees her a bunch because they share the Memorial Garden whenever Tony brings a crowd. But it is my turn now and I got a dandy of a video. I am beyond thrilled! See below.

Meanwhile, people have been dreadfully shocked by the heat wave today. Did you hear about it? I don't know if it went far enough to actually make people in St Ives faint, as it did at the end of May (apparently the people in St Ives have never been to southern California). 

Today was a day for visiting Jean, but when I got up it was already too warm for me. I got ready anyway, ate breakfast, and ran in the direction of the bus stop called The Malakoff. It would have been a great idea to check the bus timetable ahead of time, but I live in a world where everything will simply happen the way I want I to. 

So I missed the bus.

Trudging on up the hill I checked the wretched bus timetable on my phone, and discovered that I would miss every bus every time there was a bus. When I finally reached the care home and tapped at the door, the manager tried to smile and look pleasant, but failed.

"It is awfully early, Madam," she uttered, checking her watch. "Jean is still asleep."

"Oh. Well I came early because it is going to become hotter the later it becomes."

She did not acknowledge this brilliant statement, but said I should "come back in an hour". By now I realized how smart it would have been to check the care home's timetable to see if it matched mine (but I presume you know what kind of a world I live in).

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

 

More Things I See

The people of St Ives last night gathered to watch the sunset. It is different than with a sunrise. There is hardly a soul outside during a sunrise, because the sun rises at around 5am. You won't catch a tourist outside their bed at 5am. 

But the sun sets at 9:30pm, and tons of people go and watch it. It takes place only a short distance from where the sunrise happened that morning. Isn't that cool? 

Just in case you haven't heard it yet, the heat has arrived! I can't believe the difference this has made in our current crop of tourists. They and their dogs are once again out in force, searching for shade, ice cream, and sun screen. Weather is the main topic of conversation, because no one can think of anything else to say.

When the heat happened, the surfers instantly grabbed their boards and ran, flopping into the waves with huge grins on their faces. They are just about the only part of the population that is happy while hot. Who cares about sunburn? Not they!

The Rather Stunning Son,

surfing at Porthmeor Beach, 2024

UP

What I did was to creep out of my little white cottage early, and head toward the greenest of pastures. My favorite area on the way up, inside and out, is Tregenna Castle, where it is always lovely and cool. You can stop for a coffee or an iced coffee in one of the cafes there, and then wander at will through the thick foliage. 

Whenever you want to get away from the heat and crowds, just remember there is always the Castle where it is quiet, cool, friendly, and has no seagulls.

Speaking of which..

There is a small crowd sitting right now outside my window eating pasties and hiding from the seagulls! Eating and hiding, eating and hiding. I get it. You have to be just as cunning as a seagull if you expect to survive in St Ives. The crew of tourists out there changes whenever one group finishes their lunch, then another crew brings their lunch, and hides under my obstruction. I don't mind it because they are out-smarting the seagulls, and there is always something magical about that.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

This Town Of Riches

Everybody's dreams came true today, dear Readers. The rain has gone! and in fact it is seriously hot. People are wandering around town sweating, and in a few cases, swearing. 

But of course the mood is generally cheerful. About the only down side was last night during the Evensong church service. The choir members felt as if they were wearing an individually heated sauna tent, and taking them off was not an option!

This morning I crept out of my cottage to catch a glimpse of this new phenomenon we had so eagerly waited for. The sea was flat and I was once again the only happy wanderer in town, and it was sweet.

The Evensong service had been sweet, too. To prepare, we had rehearsed the pieces for weeks, not only at the Tuesday evening sessions, but we had been provided with printed music and voice files to listen to. These files had me walking the heights of St Ives singing with the choir Master on the tenor parts. I came upon the ponies one morning while blaring out Psalm 46. It was brilliant! 

Each portion of the service rang beautifully clear to us all. Whenever it became time to stand, or to sit, or to begin a new song, the choir Master's wife looked at us with a huge smile (reminding us to smile back). We did. I think my favorite part was singing the Responses. That is where the Vicar sings "Oh Lord, open Thou our lips", and the choir responds with "and our mouth shall shew forth Thy praise," which reminds us that our worship originates with Him. We don't make it up. Again, brilliant. 

At the end when the choir stood about in the Vestry talking it over, I said, "Oh dear, I am going to miss those songs now that we have performed them."

The choir Master's wife said, "Well, you don't have to miss them. We will do them again!" She explained that they keep them at the ready for another Evensong down the road.

So there is that worry put to rest.

Here at the end of my post is a clip of the choir Master's organ playing. It is always a tremendous way to end a service, when everybody sits and listens to him play for us. 

My, oh my. Such riches in this town of riches. 

See you along the Way!

the SconeLady

 (For the past half hour I have been aware a sound coming from outside my window. The window was open, to let in the lovely summer sunshine in. But - the sound finally penetrated my consciousness, and alerted me to what it was. Rain. It was RAIN!! So much for dreams coming true.)

A Red Letter Day

 

Stuart the Fisherman

"Hey, I should be able to find you a Fishermans Friends concert next time you are over," said Stuart the Fisherman last year.

"What - really?" I was truly shocked. A concert! With the Fishermans Friends? I had seen them perform 3 times and had about had a conniption every time.

Public glimpses of my favorite singing group are just about impossible, but for someone like Stuart the Fisherman, who is Cornish through and through, and who is friends with everybody here (even the Fishermans Friends), the word 'impossible' does not apply.

I remembered this, and waited through the year. I was not worried because even if nothing happened, just hearing that it might was quite exciting.

Today when the blue skies broke out above St Ives, I got out a pretty blue chair to sit on and have a cup of tea and cake. Resting my feet on the outdoor steps, I took a bite and watched the boats across the harbour. Then I suddenly recognized one of the boats. It was a yellow boat. Stuart's boat is yellow! 

Not knowing that my phone was at 3% battery (typical), I began to run! Down the pier I sped just as Stuart was lifting a gigantic plastic container filled with something creepy. You never know what a fisherman might be carrying in those things.

A tourist was mooching around on the pier, and asked Stuart what was in there. The container was strangely active, the lid sort of bubbling up and down. You will not believe what Stuart said. 

"Octopus's! Tons of Octopus's!" (He might have said 'Octopi'. I don't remember.)

"Eeeeeeeeek!" I squeaked. And jumped back.

By now I had noticed my phone battery was at 1% so I quickly snapped two shots of Stuart and the moocher before the phone died.

Here are the two shots I got. Can you see the tentacles stuck to the container lid??? Is that not the creepiest thing ever? 

He had never caught Octopi before, and neither had anyone else on that pier. So this was a Red Letter Day.

I did not like those Octopi's. Stuart had on rubber gloves and plunged his hands in and out of the squiggly mess. (They stuck on his gloves. Oh, man).

I feel about them the way I do about Huntsman Spiders and centipedes. God has a strange sense of humor.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Taming A Seagull, 2

 

Yesterday we acknowledged that there would be no more wild swims this year. 2 out of 3 of us cheered. 

We had developed a swim ritual over the years, so we knew what to expect from every single swim, every single day. It always began with the SconeLady going off for a 2 mile walk, then having cups of tea together, then all of us lurching upstairs to change for the inevitable torture session.

Our ritual had expanded now to include the very sweet and kind Swedish couple. But no! today there would be no sweet and kind Swedish couple. They would be packing. They would be getting the boys up. They would be having their breakfasts! And they would not be coming out to the harbour to train their seagull. 

So I was walking my lonely way toward Smeaton's Pier when I saw what I did not expect to see. The sweet and kind Swedish couple!

"Good morning!" said the husband, shocking me out of my reverie.

"Good morning!" said the beautiful lady. A grin made its quiet way onto my face, and then stayed there.

"No swim, today?" asked the smiling man.

"No, no swim," I answered. "They must all go home."

I heard a squeak, and looked down at their feet on the granite pavement. There stood a quiet and strangely well-trained seagull. 

Their seagull (honest!).

"Oh, there it is again!" I said, sounding almost friendly to it. The lady held out some morsel of interest toward the gull. It took it, then looked up again at the lady expectantly.

"I have not really liked sea gulls - in the past," I said hesitantly.

"Oh?" asked the lady.

I explained that our granddaughter had been scared by the sea gull who had dive-bombed her ice cream. 

"Oh, how awful for her!" she commiserated. "It all comes of having too much food on the Harbour.." This I knew to be true. You should just SEE the amount of consumption that goes on around this place. Ice creams, Cornish pasties, cheese-tomato baguettes, scones, and who knows what all else. Pizza too!

When it became time for them to leave for their breakfasts, I said, hopefully, "You'll be back next year!"

"Well, one can never really know what might happen," said she. But - I hope it will!" 

Then they went, climbing the stairs to their balcony flat overlooking my favorite 3 cottages on the sand. 

I glanced down at the seagull, as it watched them go.

The bench where a seagull learned.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Taming A Seagull, 1

 

Afternoon tea at the Ugly Butterly is not for the faint of heart. Come hungry.

We were ready for it partly by having plunged into the harbour tides at 7:45 that morning. Anyone who does this richly deserves a gargantuan afternoon tea. Every morning we have plunged in this way, and every time 2 out of 3 of us wonder what in the world we think we are doing. 

To distract ourselves, we have begun watching out for the lovely Swedish couple who sit on the Harbour beach each morning, watching the sea gulls. The lady is beautiful and has actually tamed a sea gull (honest!). As soon as she and her husband sit down on the bench, this sea gull comes out. When it comes out, it looks straight at the lady with its head cocked to one side as if figuring out who this gorgeous creature is. 

We always pause at their bench (effectively putting off the inevitable plunge), and hear their encouraging words about what we are going to do in the freezing waters. They say things like, "We are proud of you for your splendid bravery!" 

Or, "We wish we could go in there with you!" 

Or, "These tiny birds will eat out of our hands!" 

We love their accents and their cheerful faces. It will be hard when they are no longer sitting on the harbour bench training the birds.

We went, we plunged, we screamed (not!), then suddenly felt a rather strong current beneath our legs. Hmm. 2 out of 3 of us don't like currents, strong or otherwise, so although I did get into the water up to my neck, I was actually sitting on the harbour floor. Man, were those shivery waves! 

So that is how we prepared for our afternoon tea at the Ugly Butterfly. Here are some photos of our darling meal:

The Ugly Butterfly (last year it was located in Carbis Bay, but they have moved now to Newquay)

I must apologize to Ted for obliterating his head.

(Mentioning hair, there is no way to keep one's hair fixed in Cornwall's current weather. Bangs are always in the upright and locked position).

See you along the way!

the SconeLady