Decent Weather

Having had a long walk yesterday, a breath of sea, a clamber hither and thither, today Saturday I decided to go up the bridle path, pass by Tresidder and just walk to Buryan and back mainly for the purpose of getting The Guardian, as Saturday isn't the same without it and I do like the Guide which gives a simple clear layout of Radio 4 and TV channels. One has to watch out for some great programmes. Yesterday saw the Art Historian Andrew Graham Dixon gazing earnestly into the eyes of a famous Italian chef as they toured Sicily, gazing at objects d'art and devouring the best food they could find. Indeed Graham Dixon seemed spellbound by his Italian friend, momentarily very congenial and eyes lit up with his chum. He seemed to adore telling him about his own cultural heritage, as much as the chef dominated in the kitchen where Dixon was more than a little hamstrung should I say. One feels like heading out to Sicily immediately on this puddingy January day. I could hardly believe that the Normans once controlled it, William I no less.


Nice walk, not too muddy although my boots have salt tide marks on them from successive 'wettings.' Get a few bits and bobs from the shop and turn back. Before I had popped round next door to Treglyn to pass on mail and a small bunch of anemones. Paula thinks I somehow gave them to her intuitively because they are her favourite flower. Theo had admired some I had a couple of days ago on the table here. So I picked up a couple of bunches after I had given Anne's ponies most of my organic, local grown carrots from the stall in Treen, when I passed by yesterday.


In the shop I am asked to put in my pin number for my Halifax Clarity Credit Card. As I lean over I crack my head on a bloody sharp corner of a ridiculously huge Wrigley's chewing gum stand. I mean how many kinds of chewing gum do you need? There must have been about fifty sorts on this huge display stand and the corners very sharp and close to the counter too. I wonder how much they sell. They are not renowned for their  hospitality in Cornwall that's for sure.


"I'm fine thanks," I said rubbing my head.
The woman glanced at me and said "You don't have to be so sarcy. I've noticed that
before.' I didn't say I'm not surprized with you miserable heiffers who work in here, you're
bloody miserable most of the time.'
I said "I am a customer and I could just nearly have blinded myself."
"We do our best she said." One might ask, in what way?
"It was kind of a joke too" I managed to say,
We carried on then, chatting a bit as if nothing had happened, but I had a new awarenss
spinning round my head. Somehow we got onto Xmas and illness, same thing as far as I am concerned. Her husbster has been ill for weeks. He gets over one thing then gets another. (OH is that why you're in a bad mood, I didn't say, that's ok then.)
"Throw him out and get a new one," I said which I then thought was a bit strong but she didn't seem to mind that.
"Not that anyone's asking but I was ill all over Christmas with gastric flu.'
"Lot of that been going around' she said.
The Cornish are not renowned for their openness, But if you're a friend you're a friend. And that's not easy. I've spent years going into Jackson's the village shop and some of the 'girls' there seem to wince when I walk in. They are not renowned for their friendliness. Whereas in the Post Office, Jack, John and the Missus, the Thomases are a bit more thawed. The expectation is don't expect anything from me.


Margaret, who either is married to the owner or who is the boss is not exactly friendly either. Several people I know won't go in there even if desperate. I had my run ins with her too. You definately get the feeling that they are doing you a huge favour and that you are exceptionally lucky to be able to go in there. In fact we are doing them the favour spending our money. They know they are needed, especially by people who can't travel into Penzance easily or who don't want to drive too often. So you just knuckle down and take it. Once I dared to ask.
"How do you find out if you have a particular DVD?"
" You just look." I was told, accompanied by an incredulous expression.
 "What through all of them?" I said. "That'll take ages."
" Well, everyone else does that and they don't seem to mind." Probably because they're scared of you I thought and daren't ask or say anything. 
"It would be great if they were in order or there was a list or something." I squeaked. No answer, just one of those determinedly askance sneering looks down the nose, that says there's as much chance of that happenning as me buying you a new car sweetheart 


In days gone by the ladies in shops would call you 'my lover' or 'my bird,' In their lovely Cornish clotted cream kind of voices.


Basically the message was clear, take it (if you can find it) or leave it. Find somewhere else. There is nowhere else. Tis a crying shame. Anyway that woman behind the counter got a bit of sympathy from me in a round about way. You wonder what's going on sometimes. But when I think of it now it makes me chuckle a bit, it just popped out of my mouth.