Blondes In Cornwall

Fore Street on Sunday

How many blondes does it take to execute a major trip halfway across the world whilst orchestrating the lives, laundry, activities, sports, play dates and meals for four children and two men? Two: One blonde to forget her coat on the train and leave the front door key hanging OUTSIDE THE COTTAGE, and the other to follow along behind her and pick up the pieces. 

Blondes in Cornwall. I could get used to this. And you should just hear the iPhones pinging as children, fathers, and grandpas jockey for position at a distance of six thousand miles. We talked about this endlessly in the days before takeoff. Our conversations went something like this:

Daughter: "Do you think they will survive?"

SconeLady: "Of course! Have you not trained them, taught them to cook and do the dishes, listen to their father, fold clothes and go to bed on time?"

"Well..." 

"And haven't you trained the big ones to look after the little, keeping him clothed and in his right mind?" 

"Yes..."

"And most of all, the blessed Lord who manages things with wisdom and love?" This was true. It was all true. And it was so easy, dear Readers - getting here, I mean. It is so much more fun traveling with someone you love, rather than stride forth alone. Laughter has rung out everywhere along the way - in the plane, walking through customs, finding the Heathrow Express, getting to Paddington Station, sitting on upside down trash cans while drinking coffee and eating baguettes, riding the train to Cornwall, and in our darling cottage on the sea. Laughter is the best medicine, they say, and it has all been the most marvelous fun.

After a good brisk stroll both days, we just now decided we need/deserve some ice cream. Thinking of calories, I hedged, "What about Gelato? Wouldn't that be less fattening?"

"Mom. You've walked at a good pace today and anyway, Gelato is about the same as ice cream. Why not have what you want?"

She is right, of course, and so we shall don our coats and walk the cobbled way toward Moomaid. Have you ever tasted Moomaid? You should, dear Readers! Come to St Ives, bring someone you love, and be absolutely wowed by this most delicious spot on planet Earth.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady