A Few Dozen Jolly Brits

We go today, I to my next cottage and my friends to the north, and home..responsibilities..cats! Cats figure highly in the lives of these three traveling companions of mine. I like hearing the stories of their cats, which are sometimes spoken fondly of, sometimes almost feared, and always loved. One cat, whom I'm afraid has now met his end, was quite bold in his approaches toward humans. Which was fine, until he began swatting at them. They did not take kindly to it. The cat's name was Sir Trevor, and I believe he earned the title through nefarious means. They miss him terribly.


Friend Rosie's cat, Marmite, is sweet and loves to be cuddled by small girls, as you can see here. Marmite was surrounded by children and did nothing but bask in the sunlight of their admiration. She does not swat, and is rarely in trouble. The only thing you must do is to make sure she doesn't stumble upon any human food, for when she stumbles upon it, she instantly eats it. She cannot help herself. The results, whenever this happens, are unfavorable.

Although I'm sure individuals in St Ives do have cats, it isn't really a cat town. It very definitely is a doggie kind of town, however, with dogs of all makes and models wandering along all tied up to their leads. These creatures go everywhere with their humans, and are welcomed with open arms. All they must do in return is to 'behave', which produces all sorts of good will (misbehavior is not 'on', as the Brits would put it). 

One of the sights I will most miss when I get back home is that of one or more dogs sitting beneath their master's Pub table. In fact, I will miss Pubs in general. I do not think that there is any equivalent to a Pub, in the United States. We might try, but we never actually get it right. It should be easy enough to produce a decent Pub. All you need is an ancient building, a cozy fireplace, a bar with one friendly barman wiping the counter, glasses hanging from the ceiling, a pinball machine, small wooden tables and chairs scattered haphazardly around the crowded room, great food, and a few dozen jolly Brits with maybe a dozen dogs at their feet, behaving themselves. What's so difficult about that?  

Honestly.


See you along the way!
the SconeLady

Marmite, surrounded 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

My very own St Ives Kitty-woo