We were the only people out of doors yesterday morning. St Ives was as deserted as one of the black and white fifties Sci/Fi movies my husband likes so much. Abandoned streets, restaurants open but empty, and winds of enormous size.
We crept out into the chaos with hesitation. The winds had been so loud and so strong in the night that we thought the roof really might lift off, and we'd be Dorothy over the rainbow. Surrounded by flying rubbish bins.
Seeking something to eat that was not a chocolate twist, a croissant, a cinnamon bun, or an apple turnover, we finally settled upon a real breakfast at The Hub. We love The Hub because it has a porch out front with dear little tables and splendid tea. The Hub was open but empty, just like everything else.
We decided not to sit inside where it was over-heated, but outside where it was brisk. There was also a dog flopped out under the chair of his Master, and I maneuvered toward the dog's table. (We like the dogs of St Ives, and maneuver ourselves in their direction as often as possible. My husband says, "That's a fine looking dog you've got there," whenever someone has a Golden Retriever. Golden Retrievers ROCK. We would like the cats of St Ives, too, only there aren't any right now. Where did they all go? We are puzzled about this. Maybe they are spooked by the winds of enormous size, or the proximity of all those dogs. We just do not know).
To bring this story to a swift end, I ordered the 'stack of American Pancakes'. Only they weren't actually American. They looked American. They had American butter, and American syrup on them, and you might almost think you were at a Denny's. But..
I wish I'd stuck with a chocolate twist.
See you along the way!
the SconeLady
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