(Cornwall Day 32) London

 Here I sit in a microscopic hotel room in London England, not terribly far from Heathrow. This has to be the smallest room ever. All of my relatives who stay here after a dream trip to Cornwall say the same thing. The smallest room EVER. But it isn't horrible, it's just mini.

I can think of nothing untoward about my preparations for departure from St Ives this morning. I was surprisingly organized and did not have to throw out huge amounts of perfectly good food that would otherwise have rotted. I'll bet there ARE huge amounts of perfectly good food rotting in plastic bags in the Biffa Bin Trucks down there - this very minute - because we ladies have left (It is hard to strike the right grocery purchasing balance).

When I arrived at the train station, I found that I had not been given a seat assignment. 

"Oh! No problem whatsoever, Madam," said the ticket collector, when I explained this. "There are plenty of available seats. No Problem whatsoever!" And I believed him.

At least, I believed him until he went on break just as a man came and took my seat from me. What!? All of this took time because someone had to be found who could lift my heavy bag from the overhead bin, then help me carry all my clobber to an empty seat. In the next car. 

I ended up with two very nice Australians (one whom had helped me with my suitcase) and a Brit, who were very funny but whom I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND.  I know they were funny, because the people around us kept laughing. They loved films, and fascinated me with the US movies they had seen and loved. They told me outrageous stories about how restrictive the Aussie government was about Covid. Aghast, I finally said, "But I thought Australia was a FREE country!" The Australians laughed.

The Aussies and the Brit all took my name down and said they would order my book ("The House by the Side of the Road") and read it. The Brit wondered if it was going to be a smash hit like a Lee Child book (the writer of the Jack Reacher novels). I hesitated and said, well maybe my book would fit better compared with something like a... Rosamunde Pilcher book. This started us on a Rosamunde tangent which lasted until the train announcer called out for "London!"

They all said they had never read a Rosumunde Pilcher book. WHAAAAT?!

See you along the way!
the SconeLady