Did They Have The Magic?

Looe Estuary

 It was another day of food, this time in the village of Looe where the Sardine Factory drew us in and fed us well. It had all started with friend Rosie and our Em discovering The Great British Menu streaming show after Rosie had hurt her knee and Em came to comfort her. They sat on the couch over the span of one weekend, and became addicted to it. 

The BBC comes up with some good things to watch if you can figure out how to set up and use BBC iPlayer. Since I am an American it is a little bit harder to do this; there seem to be road blocks that are hard to figure out. But tonight both these smart ladies helped me learn how to manipulate a Sony television and the iPlayer so that we could sit on our couch here in St Ives and become addicted.

The reason we were determined to watch the Great British Menu is that we ate at one of the winning chefs restaurants today! Chef Benjamin Palmer. It is called the Sardine Factory, which ordinarily would have put me off because I have a low view of sardines. But there were hardly any sardines there today so there was nothing to be put off about. Here are just a few of the things we ate:

Crispy fried potato skins

Cloud Bread with special butter

Scallops

Hake

Smash Burger with skinny chips

Yellow beetroot

Homemade vanilla and Cornish clotted ice cream with lemon curd

(There are some things not listed here because I couldn't remember their names, and people have all gone to bed now. But tomorrow I will make appropriate additions and corrections to this anemic list).

Once we had eaten ourselves under the table, I took off on a 4 mile woodland walk from Looe to Polperro. I had seen and heard a lot about Polperro on Instagram, and was very excited to see what all the excitement was about. The entire walk was mesmerizingly gorgeous. The day itself was too, surrounding me with a light breeze, emerald green rolling hills dotted with white sheep and crystal blue skies. It was a good thing I have got my St Ives legs back because, man!. I had to walk practically straight up. 

Another reason for wanting to see Looe and Polperro was to find out if either of them might have the magic of St Ives. Do you think they did, dear Readers? Is it possible to find a place in Cornwall that is as magical as that?

In a word or two, no, but both were beautiful and charming in their own way - as is Cornwall itself every day of the year. But soon I will actually be staying for one week in another Cornish village that is NOT St Ives. It's a sacrifice giving up a whole week to this search, and I'm thinking - if that village doesn't have it, I need look no further. 

I've left my heart in St Ives Cornwall, 

high on a hill it calls to me.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Along the Coffin Trail (Ted's Head 2024)

We are back to following Ted again. It's an easy thing to do because he is so imminently followable, what with the shock of bright hair and the red coat. Only once every little while did we experience an accidental change in course that was not on the plan sheet. 

Ted is a man with a sense of direction I do not have, and probably never will. He keeps a sense of humor when we become lost. He climbs up every style, no matter how hideously complicated they might be. He gives us his hand to help us conquer the dazzling array of styles you will find along the Coffin Trail. (HOW did those folks from hundreds of yers ago pick up and carry coffins over those styles? It is a frequent point of discussion).

 One year we heard that there were almost 37 styles to traverse along the trail from Zennor to St Ives. We instantly denied this pronouncement because a person would have to be off his nut to go on a trail with 37 styles to climb over. We thought we had better count them, though, just in case, and would you like to know what we discovered? That there weren't 37 styles at all. There were 53 (numbers are approximate)!

 People on trails want to share about the height and span of the styles they have conquered - and they want to ask us about our styles. Yesterday a man walking a Lagotto Romagnono(Truffle Hunter)  told us that there were 8 more styles to climb before arriving in St Ives. Eight did not sound very terrible, but in actual fact there turned out to be at least twice that many. 

 But I must pause my tale. There is more to tell you! Can you wait a bit? because my eyes are at half staff. One of the really nice things I want to tell you about is the magnificent AFTERNOON TEA we had at the Ugly Butterfly today! I am still feeling the effects of it. And another thing is how fun it was to spend half a day at the UNA Spa in Carbis Bay being pampered, and swimming, and sitting in a Sauna and Steam room, and eating their delightful English breakfast. I am still feeling the effects of...

 But I must really pause my tale...

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

I Hope They Didn't See The Safety Pins

 Early this morning we padded down to the sea for a Wild Swim. We had experienced this major feat yesterday morning too, and I am happy to announce to my Readers that I did not scream. It was hard, but I found that covering your mouth can be a great help. The scream comes out more as a choke.

 Whenever we go wild swimming, people look at us as if we were mad. Really, I can hardly blame them. Diving into the Celtic Sea containing jellyfish in a bathing suit at 7:30 in the morning is borderline crazy. To add to this, we had been told by another wild swimmer that the jellyfish in there might sting us and other would-be swimmers. This was sad news and very nearly had the effect of forcing me to go back to bed. That's when I spotted a huge ship in the bay that looked impressively Naval. Friend Rosie said it was the same vessel she and Em had seen in St Ives Bay during the G7 summit, thrilling the locals: 

   "The HMS Prince of Wales was stationed just outside of St Ives Bay overnight. At 280 metres long, the aircraft carrier dwarfed the coastal town making for spectacular views for onlookers. The 65,000-ton behemoth made the popular resort look tiny as it dominated the coastline looking towards the Celtic Sea."

The jellyfish lady was wearing a bikini and told us she had been daring enough to stand on the sand waving her arms at the Royal Naval officers on deck (I told you wild swimmers were mad).

HMS Prince of Wales

 After the excitement of freezing ourselves, it became time for church and singing in the choir for the Opening of the Festival. It was a very exciting time for the church because the Mayor was coming, and everyone was ready to welcome him. 

 When I put on my red surplice (there is a red one and a white one) another choir lady said it looked too long and I might trip. She was right, and proceeded to very kindly get some safety pins and shorten it. We worked on it feverishly in the choir room because it was nearly time to start church and see the Mayor. Putting safety pins into clothing suddenly reminded me of college days, when there wasn't any money for anything but safety pins (3/4 of my clothes were held together in those days by safety pins, and I feel sure that I still have a complex about it).

 Now everyone else was lining up, but I still didn't have on my white surplice! I threw it over my head and tried to find the sleeve holes. They must have gone missing! The safety pin lady tried to help me find them but however hard we tried, the more tangled up it became. Around the surplice went as more ladies lent a hand to help. In the end, my hair was a mass of static electricity that nothing could tame. Great Scott! Only to an American Baptist could something like this happen in High Church.

 But the line began moving out the choir door, and peace settled over the group. In the sanctuary the parishioners stood and were invited to sing the first hymn, "Jerusalem", just about the most beautiful hymn  in existence. All thoughts of surplices, and static electricity, and safety pins faded. At the tops of their voices, everyone, including the Mayor and his wife at the front, sang:

"And did those feet in ancient time

walk upon England's mountains green?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant Land".

 See you along the Way!

the SconeLady

HMS Prince of Wales, St Ives Bay

Dinner's Ready

  I did, at last, find him.

 A non-fisherman, particularly a girl one, really does not know how to figure a fisherman out. Does the fisherman go out when the tide is in? Or did he come in when the tide was out? It was confusing. So back I would walk towards Smeaton's Pier.

 And there he stood, working and laughing with a clot of other fishermen who would soon head out to where Stuart was heading. I hung back a little, not knowing any of them and having absolutely no vocabulary that fit the situation. Then he saw me.

"You're back!" he called, thrusting out a strong hand to shake mine. "Y'alright? Say, I'm headed out in a minute but today it'll only be crab. What do you say about crab?" 

I didn't know much about cooking a crab, having never done it. Did it call for anything gruesome, like killing it? Did their claws reach out toward one whilst one was boiling it? I really did not know. About all I did know was that crab sure tastes good.

 We decided to wait and I would tell him when we were ready. This turned out to be a good pan because my friends and I realized that we have now booked ourselves into so many activities and food productions that there will be NO TIME FOR SEAFOOD from Smeaton's Pier. Here is our schedule:

 Friday - dinner at 'Ardor' (formerly the Seafood Cafe)

Saturday - the Lelant pathway, ending up at Rosamunde Pilcher's house and grave

Sunday - the Coffin Trail with our favorite walking tour guide

Monday - morning Spa treatment and evening Mousehole Male Voice Choir rehearsal at Paul

Tuesday - afternoon Tea at the Ugly Butterfly in Carbis Bay

Wednesday - day trip to Looe and lunch at the Sardine Factory

Thursday - matinee at The Minack theatre on the cliff (seeing Pirates of Penzance)

Friday - Fisherman's Friends concert in Hayle!

 Whaat?! 

 Isn't it a smashing schedule?

 Seeing the lovely Pennie and dear Jean topped off the day because being with them always does that. With Pennie I consumed a Cream Tea at the Tate Gallery, and with Jean I sampled a delicious chocolate brownie from the Yellow Canary Cafe (have you noticed how many of my activities involve food?? I didn't until just this instant!).

 Right now, friend Rosie and our Em are downstairs cooking up a storm. They are making a Sea Bass dinner that will be as good as any restaurant, while chatting and laughing and making merry in general. Soon I shall be hearing two of the nicest, most popular words known to man: "Dinner's ready!" 

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Be Pampered

The spot where Siri made me walk up the steps

 There were 100 steep steps ahead of me, and I wondered for a moment just what on earth I was doing. Steps are hard. I really meant to take the paved path, sans granite steps, but Siri had a better idea and directed me far enough along to where I couldn't go back. So - it was the steps.

 I was pre-scoping out the directions to Una Spa, where friend Rosie, her Ted, and our Em are going to spend half a day, next week! We want to be pampered. We want to be massaged, and we want to have someone moisturize our faces and serve us breakfast. I have not done quite this thing before, and wanted to get a head start by figuring out our transportation possibilities: 

1. should we walk the 2.5 miles up there? 

2. should we take friend Rosie's car up there? or 

3. should we TAKE A TAXI! 

 After those 100 steps, doesn't it seem to you that Taxi-pampering is just a stupendous idea? I came to that conclusion on the 31st step (I always count steps. Do you?).

After all that stepping, I looked at my health App, for the entertainment value. Just today, here is a sample of what the App told me:

1. 1,018 calories burned

2. 30,871 steps... stepped

3. distance: 11.5 miles walked

4. standing hours: 12

5. flights climbed: 37 floors (I have no idea what that means)

 And, just in case my sisters/daughter/husband/friends want to know, I eat well. Therefore, taking a taxi gets my vote.

 By the way, have you noticed the blue skies in my photographs now? I could not be more thrilled! The first photo below shows how far up I had gotten, not even half way up those steps:

And here is a photo of my very first sunrise in two weeks. It dazzled me this morning when I had Fore Street and the Wharf all to myself because nobody else wanted to FREEZE TO DEATH out there:

Same place, only later

Oh - and by the way, I haven't found fisherman Stuart yet. Have you seen him? I have been down that pier so many times that I fear no lobsters will grace my dinner dish. Nevertheless, I shall carry on my search. If nothing else turns up, there is always Sea Bream.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

A New Number One

 The Italian coffee shop is a perfect combination of Italian coffees and treats, and Cornish delicacies. Its Italian proprietor pours himself into the work, and as a result he is extremely popular in these parts. 

 The coffee shop sits directly beneath the lovely and wonderful Pier House cottage, and the whole building faces straight out to St Ives Bay and the Celtic Sea. I can't think of any location more perfectly suited to people who love St Ives.

 I stop by frequently and bring friends and family whenever they make their way to St Ives. But today I was especially privileged to come before it opened, for ... you'll never guess it... a Cream Tea! He had discovered my love of scones, and said I must come have some of his. In great anticipation I awoke early, to walk a few miles and get myself good and hungry. 

The SconeLady and the Italian proprietor

 Then, I watched as he placed the frozen scones in the oven (they had been made and frozen beforehand in his home, with baking them as a next step. This is precisely the way The Digey made their scones). They baked as he organized his counter-top products. We chatted about the south and north of Italy and what made them so different, and yet so wonderful. It was during this fascinating conversation that the oven pinged, and the scones were ready.

They were terrific! Hot out of the oven, he served them with clotted cream and strawberry jam, hot tea, served in a ceramic cup, pot, and cream jug. The perfect setup! I was happier than I had been about scones since The Digey Food Rooms had become Source Kitchen. 

(Just so you know, Source Kitchen was not to blame. The Digey was closing, and Source wanted it. But it really was a terrible shock to fly over the Pond thinking of Digey scones - and find the cupboard was BARE!)

Well, we now have another #1 Scone, dear Readers, because my Italian friend's scones are perfection. And on a note of full disclosure, you won't find a Cream Tea on the menu because, for now, they aren't on it. This morning was was a rare, but sweet, one-off.

Did I not tell you I was privileged?

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Scones whilst gazing out at the Celtic Sea

I Will Rise

Music touches hearts.

Last night Matthew pulled up in front of the Cinema in a lovely posh car (I don't know what type), and into it I hopped. He is always faithful and on time, keeping his part of the bargain so that nothing stands in the way of music touching hearts. It's all part of what makes him Matthew.

The four men inside were heading up the hill to rehearse with the Mousehole Male Voice Choir, and I was privileged to tag along and listen. I listen to the music, of course. But listening to the men along the drive is just as fun. I always learn something.

Last night we learned from John the list of elderly people in his part of Cornwall who had died. I remembered that last year he had also filled us in on passings-away, wakes, and burials. When the man to my right finally said, "Don't you have any good news?" we arrived at the church.

There is always an audience of folk who tiptoe in at 7pm because they love the Choir. The practices are actually a bit like a concert, beginning at the stroke of 7:30 pm and ending bang-on at 9:00. By the end, more than just a few tears have been shed, because Music Touches Hearts.

                            

An unusual audience member tiptoed in at 7 with his Master, just as quiet as you please. We were all shocked at him because he was so surprisingly big. He glanced around at the rest of us, but really only had eyes for his Master.

He never uttered a word or a yip, and never needed to 'go out'. There was something comforting in having him there, not 3 feet away from my feet.

Before I finish these thoughts, dear Readers, the Choir sang a terrific song called, "I Will Rise", which for me bright the house right down. I went home in the glow of it. The three soloists were men I had not known, but they had been faithfully serving in their quiet way, when the director tapped them for this song. It was the sweetest thing. I hope the video works for you, and if it doesn't I shall try and fix it.

See you along the Way!

the SconeLady

St Ives between rains

A Baptist Again in High Church England

  I came to choir practice on Tuesday night, and was astonished at how good this choir really is. The choir master had kindly sent me the music, via email, which gave me a big hint about the level of expertise. 

 Because from an early age I could sing a good four-part harmony (we were Baptists), I felt I should be up for just about anything. I could follow a director and read music, not to mention the fact that I had sung professionally for a couple of decades.

 But - this was TOTALLY DIFFERENT. These songs were beautiful and complicated, and unknown to me. Nothing could be more different to what I experience each Sunday in a worship band/drum/guitar/bass environment. 

The other choir members asked me about my own church choir experiences.

"Does your church sing similar songs to these?"

"Ah...no. We sing songs you might hear on a rock station. They are really pretty good songs, too. But nothing like this."

"What denomination are you?"

"Baptist." They nodded as if this explained a lot.

Even though I was more nervous this time around, I had so much help that nothing terrible had a chance to happen! The ladies surrounding me kept me moving in the right direction, pointed out where we were in a song, and encouraged me in countless ways. 

It reminded me of the years long ago when Laura Jean White used to work endlessly with our youth choir, getting us ready to join the 'big' guys. Talk about learning to read music! She had us so steeped in it that those notes stayed permanently locked into our little brains. And guess what? It's still in there! I can learn to sing Gracious music in a Church of England, and then go home and sing my heart out to the tune of a rock band. 

As I walked down Fore Street after church, I could hear the sound of singing. The Fore Street Methodists were having themselves a hymn-sing, and the doors were wide open. The one I could hear was "What A Friend We Have In Jesus". Now that's a four part harmony I could sing in my sleep, note by note. 

Thank the Lord, and Laura Jean White.

See you along the Way!

the SconeLady

SWAT

 You all know something of the dogs of St Ives. There are lots of them because people love their dogs, and want them to be with them on holiday. They feel almost as though the dog were another child in the family, and they would never consider leaving a child at home while everyone else goes away.  If you look at the holiday cottage websites, there will be something in there about dogs being welcome, or dogs not being welcome. Only they say it very kindly, like, "Regrets, no pets".

 I don't mind the dogs of St Ives because they seem unusually well behaved. The only trouble seems to be if one little dog sees another little dog. Then there is noise. But everyone else in the doggie world of St Ives is smashing. There is something soft about the way they look at you, something obedient. I can't really nail down what I mean, so you'll just have to come down here and see them for yourself.

The Rather Stunning Son, filming a dog of St Ives

The reason I am bringing them up right now is because something unusual, something about a dog, happened today.

There is an especially nice walk, a particularly steep walk that I like to take because walking straight up the Steep will improve your life in lots of ways. You become stronger and breathe easier. So, I headed up toward the highest Parking Lot in town. There are tons of parking lots above the town, very well organized and accessible online so that you can pay for a spot while you are sitting at home with your computer.

The highest parking lot is nice because just beyond it there are horses which I feel a kinship with. Whenever I approach, they walk up to me. Isn't that nice? Only I always forget to bring along a carrot or sugar cube, so they end up walking away again.

This morning I noticed a car blocking the path, with its trunk open. As I walked, suddenly a fierce growl came from the vicinity of the trunk. A man, dressed in the garb of a SWAT team, saw me, and said very deliberately, "You'll want to be moving away from here now, Madam." 

He was holding onto the thick collar of an enormous German Shepherd, whose growl was becoming scary now. It was looking at me. 

Have you ever been looked at by a fierce German Shepherd? There was purpose in that look. Like perhaps it wanted to eat me.

"Where were you hoping to go?" asked the man.

"Just - up. But I think I'll go back down now."

"I would, if I were you. But don't run."

"Oh. yes sir," I said, wanting very much to run. It took considerable self control not to, what with all that growling and barking. I was thinking what it would feel like if it got me from behind. It wasn't pretty.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Moving in the Right Direction

 Jean and Audrey have been working on a new puzzle (Jean likes puzzles), so when I got there I jumped right in. My own mother had loved working on puzzles, until they became too intricately challenging. Then she enjoyed watching us doing them.

Jean and Audrey had already separated the pieces into bowls. This was easy because, on the backs of the pieces were the letters a,b,c,d,e and so on, according to the location in the picture. Brilliant! That way we worked on only one area at a time, thus making progress. I liked this.

"Jean, did you do the separating of the puzzles pieces?" I asked her.

"Some," she said.

I was impressed. Audrey said, "Mum still knows all the alphabet and numbers. And she reads novels."

Impressed again.

"The series she is reading now is the Adams Family saga by Mary-Jane Staples. There are 29 of them!" Audrey handed me the book. I began reading it, and forgot the puzzle for a while. "It's good for mum to do puzzles and things, because it keeps her brain cells moving in the right direction." I saw the wisdom of this, and thought perhaps I might go and find myself a puzzle, to help keep my brain cells moving that way.

Then Audrey pulled out a DVD of a violinist called Andre Rieu who presents classical concerts worldwide, where massive crowds come to watch. More than just thousands, too. I was at a very different sort of concert in LA recently where 18,000 people packed themselves in. Andre's concert was at LEAST twice as big as that LA concert. I don't know where his concert was being held (possibly somewhere in Holland), but that crowd resembled the children of Israel listening raptly to Moses.

I was mesmerized. Jean kept working away at her puzzle but once in a while she glanced at the screen and told me what Andre was saying. This was significant because he was speaking Dutch, with English subtitles flashing on the screen. The subtitles were moving pretty fast, but Jean read them to me and laughed when he told a joke.

IMPRESSED AGAIN!!!

Ask me if I could read those lickety-split subtitles! I will give you no answer.

Everything, from the welcome I received, to the cup of tea I was given, to the puzzle we worked on together, to the novel Jean is reading, to the King of the Waltz Andre Rieu speaking in Dutch to a 93 year old woman still in her own home, with two daughters attending her daily - all of this is happening in a bungalow in Cornwall, day after day. It isn't always easy, but they do it. I call it Love.

Are you impressed?

See you along the way!

the SconeLady 

England Has Weather

The sun came out for a minute yesterday

Then...

You should just hear the rain outside my door. What a commotion! (I think it might become a storm). If I were to take off my walking shoes and tip them over, water would come shooting out.

I could become discouraged by all this wetness except that we learned long ago that England has weather. C.S. Lewis said in 'That Hideous Strength' that you cannot let your plans be dictated by the weather. Furthermore, you ought really to like weather. Sidle up to it, and make friends. Well... he didn't say that last thing, exactly, but you get the gist.

I know first hand that the Brits are very good at this because the streets of St Ives were crammed full of people today. In spite of the weather, they crept slowly along Fore Street eating ice creams and looking for the illusive perfect something in a shop. The crowds were bundled up as if it was winter in Norway. But the strangest thing was the shops themselves. It was cold, rainy, and windy, yet the store windows displayed sundresses, flip flops, and shorts, fit for summer. There wasn't a single thing any of us could use. 

Thinking back to 'That Hideous Strength', I will always remember what Jane Studdock and her two companions said on their day of rain. 

***

"Don't you like a rather foggy day in a wood in autumn?" remarked Camilla. "You'll find we shall be perfectly warm sitting in the car."

Jane said she'd never heard of anyone liking fogs before but she didn't mind trying. All three got in.

"That's why Camilla and I got married," said Denniston, as they drove off. "We both like Weather. Not this or that kind of Weather, but just Weather. It's a useful taste if one lives in England."

"I'm sure I hated wet days as a child," said Jane. 

"That's because the grownups kept you in," said Camilla.

***

 

Maybe I am a little more like Jane in my attitude toward Weather. Maybe Camilla's is the better one, and I ought to sidle up to it, and make friends. It's a useful taste if one lives in England.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Things to Do In St Ives that Taste Good

St Ives Sea Bream

Every trip to Cornwall should include fresh fish cooked on one's own cottage stove - in butter, salt and pepper (Just think 'Julia Child'!). The other night I cooked Sea Bream (above), and if I'd had any extra goodies like lemon, tartar sauce, or tsatsiki sauce, I would certainly have included them. But I purposely don't have any of those things because if I go around buying things like that, I will only have to carry them with me on Changeover Day, which is very hard on the back. 

Have you ever cooked Sea Bream?  It wasn't as dramatic as killing and boiling a lobster, and it wasn't as delicious as a lobster. But it was oh, so good. When I bought it from our little fish shop by the Wharf, I didn't know it would have so many bones. Believe it or not, there were bones on the inside of the Bream, and bones on the OUTSIDE of it. You may have had fish with outside bones, but I have not. Luckily, I cooked it for just the right amount of time and the right amount of butter, because both the inside and the outside bones FELL STRAIGHT OFF, and I didn't choke.

Speaking of food and fish, I looked for fisherman Stuart again today. Smeaton's Pier is where to find him, so I have walked up and down it every day on the off chance he might be hanging out there. I am not in the habit of walking around looking for other women's husbands, don't get me wrong. But I am interested because wherever Stuart is, a lobster will be in the vicinity. Even though killing and boiling a lobster is a creepy business, its taste is so irresistible that I cannot help wandering around looking for Stuart.

Soon after this, I met my good friend Pennie and her good friend Jayne, to drive out to a sweet little tea/coffee/lunch place called 'Nance'. We were hungry for sweet things, so I ordered a Cream Tea (with the scone warmed, and lashings of jam and clotted cream), and they each ordered carrot cake to eat whilst listening to my woeful tale of flight delays, lost taxi cabs, bag-dragging in the pitch dark late at night, and laying down on cobblestones trying to open a key safe. My friends were properly alarmed, and possibly wondered why I kept laughing instead of crying. It is a bit odd, but once the experience was over and I was safely inside my doll's-house-of-a cottage, the horror ended. Maybe I am still secretly hysterical, and it just keeps popping out at odd moments,

But as any world traveler will tell you, you're going to have highs and lows, goods and bads. It's best if you'll just roll with it. You can't possibly be any worse off than the Boeing astronauts who have been stuck in space for over two months now - and they don't get to go home until next February!

Talk about flight delays.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Dive-bombing seagulls

                                                         View from Smeaton's Pier

The SconeLady is not Shy About Twists

Dear Readers! In a flurry of anticipation yesterday, I dashed up to the Norway Store to ask them (without much hope) if maybe, possibly, they MIGHT have brought back the wildly popular Chocolate Twists? Their discontinuation two years ago had been a deep tragedy, and many of us did not like it one little bit.

Well, you won't believe this - they actually did have twists again, only they weren't twisted twists. Does that make sense? They said the ingredients are all exactly the same as ordinary twists except that they are now straight in a sort of 'loaf' configuration.

Of course, I bought one lickety-split, and this is what it looked like in the little boot room at the cottage before I attacked it:

Do you notice its loafy-ness? And it almost looks as if it is bigger and heavier than its former self. 

Then up the hill I walked toward Jean, bearing a goodie bag containing her favorites. Jean is partial to a Pork Pie from the Yellow Canary, and though I have never really cottoned on to the taste myself, if she likes it, well, what is there not to like!? (I always let her have my portion!).

Jean on Saturday

The walk on Sunday began at the Parish Church of St Ia, where they are once again inviting the SconeLady to sing in the choir. Amongst the choir members yesterday lay the honorary member named Tess, the choir doggie who is perfectly well-behaved in all ways.

After church, congregants and choir members gathered around the coffee and tea table, chatting and catching up. I waited to see if anyone spoke to me about our looming American election ("what are the Americans going to do?"). They normally ask, and I am normally in a flutter, waiting for them to ask. But yesterday, the subject was left blessedly unmentioned. 

Dear Readers, there is more to say as I tramped around Cornwall, being rained upon and feeling water inside my shoes, accidentally approaching the links golf course, where pedestrians are discouraged from presenting their heads as TARGETS. Thankfully, this head came through the experience unscathed. 

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Laying Down on a Cobblestone Street

It was odd from the beginning. 

I could tell right away that the airline people were not happy, but grumpy, using shouting voices at the passengers multiple times until small children actually began to cry.

We finally boarded the plane, but after a considerable wait the pilot announced that something was wrong below in the baggage compartment. As we took this in, a flight attendant announced that there was not very much food aboard the plane, so that only one meal would be served as we crossed the Pond for 10 and a half hours. And they hoped we had all brought our own snacks because they would not be providing any. "Please share your snacks with others," she said. Whaat?!

Oh. And they hoped we had all brought our own water bottles because...

(I, who ridiculously had NO FOOD OR WATER in my bag, became prematurely hungry and thirsty).

The delay lasted 4 hours including a change of planes, and because we were so late, everyone on board missed their flight connections and trains. And lots of children were screaming. 

I missed my train and cab, and the resulting chaos was written to friend Rosie and Our Em:

"The train pulled into St Ives at 8:30pm (3 hours late because the train tracks were faulty), and no cab! I had booked one last week, and called them several times when the train was delayed, to let them know. Well, they didn't come and I tried to reach them but the man on the phone said he hadn't heard of anyone named Chris, and anyway there is no street called 'Salubrious Terrace' in St Ives. 

"But sir, it's dark out here."

"Sorry. No cabs available." Whaat!!? 

The story from then is LONG, but suffice it to say that I dragged bags up and down the steep streets of St Ives, unable to find the cottage IN THE DARK! When after an hour I did finally find it, I had to lay down on the cobbles to try and open the key safe while holding an iPhone flashlight, because the key safe was attached to the cottage at STREET LEVEL. Hahahaha! (only it wasn't funny THEN). I called the helpline for my cottage company repeatedly but no one picked up. They must be laughing today as they listen to my increasingly desperate messages. (I'm embarrassed about that now).

Finally, at 10:30pm the key safe fell open of its own accord (mystery), and I burst into tears. The process from getting off the train had taken TWO HOURS.

But I have now been to the Yellow Canary for coffee and a chocolate twist, so all is right with the world!"

And so, dear Readers, I am in my darling St Ives at long last. One grandchild asked (hopefully) if Grandma might decide to come straight home after all this. As much as I would love to be there, facing even one more train or plane or missing taxi cab right away might just about do me in.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady