Through The Arch In The Wall

I had come for a Cream Tea. Rather than taking a bus to it, I decided that the miles between it and me should be walked. This turned out to be no small thing, it being 5.5 miles away, up a steep Penzance hill! But the miles felt like almost nothing at all as I looked forward to the delicious treat awaiting me.

I arrived and, waiting my turn, had a few moments to observe one of the servers there. He was a hard working young man, anyone could see that. He hurried to wait on people he did not know, giving them all the same kind treatment. Watching him serving was half the fun of being there.

But then a lady approached him, a plate in her hand, and a brownie on the plate. The young man looked up at her.

"May I help?" he asked.

"Well," she said sharply, "I hope so! This brownie is the worst thing I've ever tasted." Everyone in the place looked over at her, shocked.

"Oh, I am sorry, Madam," he responded. "Would you like me to get you something else to replace the brownie?"

"I certainly would," said the (American) lady. They discussed what treat might best suit her palette, and the treat was brought in as a replacement, for no charge. Peace ruled once more (but sometimes I wish the American accent wasn't quite so noticeable).


My own Cream Tea was worth every mile I had walked in order to earn it. The scone was warm, the cream creamy, the strawberry jam homemade and perfect (I come from a strawberry farm, so I KNOW), the tea was just the right strength, and they had Demarera sugar, which makes the best cups of tea even better. That Cream Tea has been given a score of TEN!

Waiting afterward at the bus stop, I noticed the hard working young man coming over to join me. He had to get back home to Penzance, and I had to get to Marazion without walking it again. But the bus was late.

"It's hopeless, that bus," he said, in between sending text messages to someone. "I tell you, it's hopeless." This opinion wasn't very encouraging.



"Oh?" I said. "Does this lateness happen often?" The bus was now 10 minutes late.

"Oh yes, it happens often, Madam - very often! It's a worthless bus. But it does come, most of the time."

"Most?" I said, alarmed. "Only most of the time? I need it to come this time." Startled that he had startled me, the man amended his statement and said, "Well, you know it does end up coming, just when you think you're beached helpless and losing all hope."


This was a bit more reassuring, but it was a tense few minutes more before that 'worthless' bus finally lumbered up the hill to collect us. I could have thought of a few words to say to the bus driver, but knowing that the American accent is so recognizable, I kept my words to myself. Our reputations are at stake.


See you along the way!
the SconeLady