The Mousehole Males

The way was long, but its payoff made it worth every mile. 

I waited up the hill at the Stennack Surgery for my ride, and Eric turned up on the stroke of 5:20. In I climbed. 

"Hello!" I said. "Lovely to see you." We zoomed off and picked up two other ladies, sweet Jean (of the pork pies and custard tarts) and her friend Pennie. With each new occupant, the ride became livelier and jollier as we caught up on life, talking nineteen-to-the-dozen. And then at one point, someone asked me about the book I've been writing.

"What is it about?" they said.

"It has to do with a boarding school Headmaster," I said, thinking of my darling story and its wonderful main character.

"A headmaster? Boarding school!" Pennie said. "Why, Eric here went to a boarding school. Did you know that?" 

I hadn't. A boarding school!

"Oh, Eric," I gushed, "we must talk about this. Did you like it? Was there a - cane? What kind of uniform..." and so on. I felt I couldn't get enough. To think of finding a friend who had actual experience at boarding school! Eric patiently answered my questions, but then we arrived at the venue and I had to stop. We found excellent seats (Eric always leaves home early, so that we can get excellent seats) and awaited our concert. The place filled. It was big, and it filled. Such is the reputation of our Male Choir!

And then there was a stirring at the back as they moved down the aisle, singing their signature  welcome song, "Halle-halle-Luia". A stirring opener! The concert was nearly two hours in duration and we hardly noticed it. There were actually two male choirs that night, sharing the stage, and both were wonderful. At the end, both sang together and led us all in singing, 'When I Survey The Wondrous Cross'. Powerful.

We climbed back into Eric's car, and began the ride to St Ives. This time Pennie drove, so Eric was in the back with me. And guess what we got to talk about? Boarding schools! Uniforms. Mean boys. Nice boys. And - canes. And guess what else? Eric actually ran away from boarding school! It all worked out in the end, and he went back. He wasn't caned because it was a Methodist boarding school of high esteem, and did not look kindly upon canes. 

It was a great ride home, all in all, through adorable villages that made me want to stop and have a look at them. But it was late, and dark, and no one in those villages would want me rambling around having a 'look'. So Pennie drove on, and said I could always go to Helston next week.

Helston. Next week? Next week we fly HOME - oh, hurrah! Perhaps I will have to wait for another year to see Helston. I will have to put together an itinerary consisting of all the villages and ports and grassy paddocks I would like to catch up on, next time.

But for now, I'm going to start thinking about next week; the pitter-patter of little feet toddling along, pushing a cart toward some unknown destination, learning how to walk.

Bliss.


See you along the way!
the SconeLady