Change of Scene

 I admit that Port Isaac is a beautiful spot - there is no denying it! But I am not there anymore. Beginning tomorrow I will be sharing photos with you that are NOT of that place. Here are a few lovelies from Port Isaac that I managed to capture between rain storms and sunny skies. 

 St Ives is welcoming me back with stunning seas still robust and a bit pushy. But with the addition of great California friends who arrived here just before I did, I am in my element - walking the cobbles of Fore Street, showing off the Wharf, and finding coffee joints too many to number. How to choose? And which place has the best scones in town? THAT was a poser. We discovered there is just too much food here to choose from: the Thai place called Talay, the ex-Seafood Cafe that is now called 'Ardor', Onzo Pizzaria on the Wharf, the Firehouse Bar & Grill which has warm chocolate brownies with ice cream, the Bier Haus Grand Cafe that serves German food PLUS waffles, the Mor store that has the best lunchy sandwiches ever, The Sloop, a pub favored by the locals here, and of course there is the everlasting Balancing Eel that feeds practically all of St Ives. 

It's all about food, right now. And I will start with a chocolate twist/loaf tomorrow morning. My, but it's good to be back.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

                                                                

Fisherman's Friends and Doc Martin

The SconeLady visits Fern Cottage

I am going to start watching Doc Martin right away! He is in my mind now, and the minds of about 20 walking tour tourists who for 2 hours today learned just about everything there is to know about him. The best part was that our guide had actually BEEN IN THE SHOW! I'm going to turn it on and see if I can find him. His name is Mike and he was an Extra.

 At the beginning of the tour, the guide wowed us all by saying, "Do you see those two white haired gentleman standing by that boat?" We did see them. "Well, guess what? Those are two of the real Fisherman's Friends!" 

 There was a momentary silence as we all took this in. Then everyone pretty much freaked out, gasping and grabbing smart phones and taking pictures of the backs of their heads (they knew we were a tour group and would likely ignore their privacy). The man on the left is Jeremy, who is still an active member of the Fishermen's Friends - which means that I just saw him performing at Sandy Acres! The man on the right is John, who started the Fisherman's Friends but has retired from them. 

Jeremy and John, Fisherman's Friends

I always think it's exciting to see someone who is famous. I have seen Kevin Costner twice, Hugh Laurie once, Haley Joel Osment twice, Strom Thurmond once, Debbie Reynolds once, and - full disclosure - I possess a curtain ring that used to belong to Barbra Streisand.  

 My husband does not think about famous people the way that I do (for example, he would never be seen on a walking tour about them). If Tom Cruise himself turned up at our house my husband would probably think he was the exterminator, and start to tell him about the bees in the living room. 

 I just now started watching Doc Martin! The cinematography of Port Isaac is utterly stunning, both in the show and in real life. They did a terrific job of filming those rolling green hills and stark blue seas, all while telling a compelling story. The tour guide told us that Martin Clunes (who played Doc Martin) kept everybody cheerful on set by his kindness and humor, and would do 30 takes of a scene without getting upset. The lady pharmacist with a neck brace, the large handyman Al and his son Al, the cray-cray receptionist at the doctor's surgery, and the big black dog who jumped in Doc Martin's window were all just as important as he was. 

I will watch the next episode tomorrow and let you know if I see our tour guide Mike being an Extra. He's hilarious already, don't you think?

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

 

I don't want to talk about That

The SconeLady's bags are packed

 St Ives gave me quite a shocking sendoff today, a real proper storm. This storm reminded me of my poor sister in Florida who has gotten to know their hurricane on a first name basis. Other family members close by are also threatened, as well as some of the grandchildren who are concerned about water overflowing the dam near their city of Spartanburg, SC. I can hear the  pings! of my laptop, updating us and asking for ever more prayers. 

 My taxi driver to Port Isaac today was the happiest driver I've ridden with. I had just gotten off the train at Bodmin Parkway, dragging a ridiculously heavy roller bag in a dreadful, knock-you-off-your-feet wind. I was supposed to go up 20 steps, then walk a ways to go back down 20 more steps. But the taxi man showed up smiling as I was attempting this feat. He took it off my hands and said, "Madam, for a small suitcase, this one sure is heavy." Understatement.

Cottage in Port Isaac

 As we got underway, he told me that 30 years ago his mother had taken him to Cornwall 'on holiday'. That was when decided to live here one day, to move while he was still young and fit, and start a driving business. Twenty years later, he is still young and fit (from my point of view!), and has made a great success of his driving business. I can testify to that because as we drove, his phone just rang and rang from people who had last-minute travel needs and couldn't he help them out? Oh please? He was so completely booked up that I was VERY THANKFUL I HAD PLANNED HIM AHEAD. 

 I have found that taxi drivers often want to talk about American politics to their American customers in the back seat, because they are a captive audience. But this man never dipped his toe in that water. He didn't even hint about people whose skin, for whatever reason, might be orange. It was a great comfort to me. Last week when my friends and I went on a long walking tour with some other people, one of the people wanted to talk about That, only I didn't want to. So Friend-Rosie and Our Em walked close to me on either side as protectors. Sometimes you need your own Secret Service.

Port Isaac Harbour

 I am in a new cottage now, and you can see it is cute and is where Doc Martin was filmed. It is also where the Fisherman's Friends movies were filmed, and everywhere I look there are tourists sheepishly taking pictures of the famous places they remember from the films. I don't remember very much about Doc Martin, but I do know where his little house and surgery were/are. And where the school is/was. There are signs up on these important places that say, "Please respect our privacy". Which means we probably shouldn't be taking the photographs.

 But we take them anyway. We even take pictures of the signs themselves, "Please respect our privacy." We can't help it. Today I saw a tourist walk up to Doc Martin's little house and surgery, and try to GO INSIDE. It was terrible! The SconeLady would absolutely never do a thing like that. 

(Well ... almost never).

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Doc Martin's little house/surgery

Foggy Pathways

 

 A terrific walk in St Ives is called the 'Half Coffin Trail'. At least, that is my name for it. It is for people who maybe shouldn't do the Coffin Trail alone - I will admit it right now: I am one of those. It isn't that I couldn't  do the whole Coffin Trail alone. There are only 5 miles of walking, through pastures and greenery too lovely for words. The trouble is getting up and over the styles. My sisters and brother would agree and not want me to leap up and over them without the strong hand of Friend-Rosie or Walking Tour Guide Tony. 

 So I shortened it, and find walking the half bit, which takes you to Man's Head Rock, to be perfect. And there aren't any styles. Hurray. Another reason I like going up there is that Carol's house is there. Carol is a generous, funny, and welcoming lady who owns a beautiful black grand piano and a baritone saxophone (I think that is what it is. It is perfectly huge). When I saw those two things as I passed the living room, I was shocked and said something complementary about them.

"Oh - do you play?" she asked.

I said I did, at least the piano, and she said go play it, and I did. Having been away from my own grand piano (it is mahogany), I had missed it terribly but knew of no way I could find one to practice on. Enter Carol!

Her husband, who works from home, sat back in his office chair and listened. She listened from the kitchen. It was fun to have such a nice audience of two, as I tried to think up pretty things for them to hear, just like in my olden days. I played everything from favorite hymns to the Beatles, a real mixup of tunes. Halfway through 'Yesterday' I heard the gentle rattling of a tea tray being placed next to me. A real proper setup it was, too - the teapot with a tea cozy on it, sugar cubes and cream, and all in pretty porcelain. Lovely.

                                                 

When it was time to go, I strode forth to finish the Half Coffin Trail, and then - what was this? a fog began to settle down around me. That was odd. It had been sunny before Carol's house. About a mile into the walk, two young Dutch women asked me which direction they should take to reach Man's Head Rock, and St Ives. Well! I knew the answers to that question, and said "Come along! we can go together."

 I knew where I was going, of course I did - but there was something strange about the pathway. In the fog the path was overgrown and shouldn't have been. I was wearing short pants, and started feeling scratchy bushes, and even what felt a lot like ... like nettles. 

"These are nettles!" I said, "I don't think this is the right path."

"We don't either," the younger one said. 

 It was embarrassing, I tell you! The SconeLady knows the Coffin Trail and the Half Coffin Trail and could practically walk them both in her sleep. We turned around.

 I apologized, but they said oh no, it was their fault because they had been in front of me and got off on a wrong path, which I had followed. 

We retraced our steps in the fog until we could see other people's heads bobbing up and down. And then there was Man's Head Rock, and there was St Ives! We cheered, and the Dutch ladies went their way down the soft green grasses so much more welcoming than nettles. I followed. 

You know what? I think I'll stick to participating in walks from now on, instead of leading them. 

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Beginnings of Goodbyes

A group of women gathered in Jean's living room today to talk, eat scones, and laugh. We didn't want it to be a 'goodbye', but what else could it possibly be? Tomorrow is my last day in St Ives, and then the machinery will begin to roll along, taking me somewhere else.

Somehow the subject of weaving came up, and I was thrilled to hear all about how Jean had been a weaver in Manchester for many decades. Weaving is no joke, and you have to be on your toes to keep all your fingers. Jean's sister lost 3 of her fingers on one of the machines but the company said it was her own fault. Great Scott! In the end, the doctors attached her little finger in the place of her pointing finger. I am not making this up.

Today's scones were kindly baked by Pennie and served the Devon way - jam first, clotted cream on top. Jean's daughters made the tea, served the scones, and stood by while the rest of us cheerfully consumed them. Watching the girls watching their mother reminded me that not so very long ago, my own sisters and brother and I stood by our mother to make sure she had everything she needed. It was a privilege; I saw today that they also felt that privilege.

Thinking of this, I pulled out a photo.

"This is my mother," I said, showing it with daughterly pride.

"Oh my goodness!" someone said. "How old is she?"

"Well, she was 99 years old when this was taken... just two months before she died."

"What?!" said all, in a variety of decibels. My pride inched up a little more. I had shared with them before about her raising 11 children and hoisting bales in the summer heat while I drove the 4-wheeler in comfort. She went through the Roaring Twenties, the Great Depression, World War II, then survived the Sixties with a passel of teenagers. Now that right there is a miracle!

12/09/23

The ladies were so complimentary about my mother and I that I just about busted a button. It's fun to have other people noticing your 99 year old mother.

Presently, we gathered our belongings (mine were the usual 5 layers and several things hanging off my backpack) and began walking toward the door.

"Goodbye, goodbye, we love you Jean!" Pennie and I called out, accompanied by the excited barking of two little dogs who absolutely MUST have the last word. 

I think I'm going to miss those guys. They notice me.

See you along the way!

The SconeLady

Rain on a Cliff

 

                                                   

Pirates of Penzance, 2024

Some time during this upcoming year, a message will arrive in the phone or computer of Friend-Rosie and her ever eager sister, Em. First it will be a message about the cottage on Rose Lane, the place we can't wait to see and never want to leave, with an AGA inside! (my fingers are already starting to twitch toward the Cottage Boutique Search page).

Then there will be messages surrounding the Minack Theatre on the cliff. You can see for yourself the results of all this messaging and purchasing. You can also see the weather we experienced. Three-fourths of our visits were absolute GEMS. The only rainy, stormy, water-in-your-shoes type experience we had turned out to be fun anyway. How could it not be? We looked so ridiculous and laughed so much that no one could possibly be cross.

Our dear Em had not been able to come that year (2022), and when we asked Ted if he wanted to sit on a rainy cliff watching Mr Rochester hide his crazy wife in the attics, he said no. So the two of us went up, up, up to a far away car park, and - I'm not just perfectly sure how it happened, but anyway, we didn't have the car keys. So Rosie ran all the way back down to get them, only Ted couldn't hear her knocking. She banged and banged and hollered, wondering if he might have gone to The Sloop for a pint of Wallup.  

Well, more things happened, but the details have faded. The keys were finally found and when we arrived late (just as Helen Burns lay dying on the stage), it was okay because the car park man put us in the Handicapped spot closest to the front. 

When I, my sister, and the Amazing Larry saw the HMS Pinafore (2021), we loved it for a really very good reason. Our father had played the part of Nanki Poo in High School, and that had made him (almost) famous. As children we had played that record over and over until each song was perfectly memorized (and probably scratched to death). At the Minack, we sang our hearts out just as if we were the players on stage.

But then look how far away from the stage I was at The Fisherman's Friends (2023)! The Minack had sold me their absolute last ticket, up at the extreme top of the cliff. The men were tiny stick figures down there, but somehow the sound crew had whipped up a system where everyone could hear every word. 

Our visit to the Minack last week might not have been as dramatic as the day it was raining sideways. But there were four of us this time, and if you had been too, you'd have seen four beaming grins up in section 'B'. 

I don't know if we will see the Minack again next year, because it depends upon what is playing. On our way back down the hill, Em asked me, "And what would you like to see on the Minack stage?"

I thought for a bit. "Les Miserables, maybe...?" 

But that seemed a bit off the minute I said it. Les Miserables is sad, and you can't have hundreds of people trying to climb granite steps while bawling their eyes out.

The Fisherman's Friends, 2023

Jane Eire, 2022

HMS Pinafore 2021

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Sometimes There Is Cake

Trencom Hill, September 20, 2024

 I am perfectly set up for a tasty dinner (Margarita Pizza from the wharf), and have looked forward to eating it all day. My friends have gone home now, so I had to forage for food alone and without their expertise. Their food expertise is amazing and I always learn new things when they are around. And anyway, I knew enough to forage for the Margarita Pizza all by myself.

 I ate the first half of it for last night's dinner, and already knew that it was brilliant. Then I saw a cake in a window. It was a four layer chocolate cake with thick chocolate icing in between (both ingredients were unbelievably dark and very irresistible). I paused. 

The cake was in a tea shop that used to be called Madelines's, back when my sister and I came here and felt like having cake. The trouble that day was that the cake looked delicious but wasn't, and we never went back in there.

 I had to admit, though, that today's cake truly was delicious, and wonderfully moist. The lady behind the counter stood transfixed, watching me eat it (this was not altogether comfortable). My little table allowed me to look out the window to the world of St Ives - its never-ceasing shoppers, tourists, locals, dogs, its occasional cats, and rare policeman. It was raining a little, but those within were cozy and warm.

I thought of my friends, so recently whisked away. Our Em had gone back home the day before, hoping to make it in time to bake a Victoria Sponge for church the next day. Friend Rosie had driven north to see a beautiful daughter whose face is never without a smile. And I can pretty well guess that the first thing they all did when they got home was to put the kettle on. 

They are always putting the kettle on. And sometimes, there is cake. 

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

P.S. I just noticed -at the bottom of this page- a video from the Fisherman's Friends concert. I don't know how it got there, but it belongs to the one called 'They Are Hollywood'. Watch it! It's a good one.