Missing in St Ives

It was such a welcoming sight that there was just no space for melancholy. Not that there should be any. Who could be sad in a place like this?

I had walked along to my most favorite cafe with its two lovely Italians who faithfully dish out luscious Italian treats and speak to one another in Italian. It is nice just to sit there by the window looking out at the water, and listen to them.

"Thank you so, so much for coming," the young man says to his customers in his charming accent. "See you again soon." Their customers do see them again soon, because no one can resist coming back to where the sun is always shining, even on a rainy day.

It was the week after Easter and the weather was brilliant. People were out in their droves, walking along or sitting and soaking the beauty all in. That is not to say that it was exactly warm, mind you. The short pants you see in the photograph above are actually hilarious because when I snapped the picture, my fingers were just about numb. 

The day had begun with this chocolate twist (a take-off on the chocolate croissant which has more mass to it, and is therefore preferable) and coffee outside my cottage, in the sun. As I munched, people wandered by and I saw them staring rather sneakily in my direction. Once in a while someone would actually point. I had seen them staring and pointing earlier, too, from my kitchen window. In fact they had been doing that every day since my arrival. Why, might you ask, were they staring? It was because this must be the most popular and enviable cottage any of us ever saw. It was cute and white, only yards from the high tide, and had stunning sea views. Any person in the near vicinity would dearly want to be the lucky person inside. Who couldn't sit there and write the great American novel? Only, the staring hordes were a bit distracting and I couldn't help staring at them right back. 

But there was something bothering me quite a bit. Don't get me wrong, everything was wonderful; there was food and drink at my very fingertips, scones presented themselves to me at every turn, and in all likelihood the same would be true the next day. But still, there was something ... sadly missing.

The SconeLady's husband.

For it is well known that, however far you may roam, nothing on this earth can ever replace the joy and companionship of a good husband.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady