How many went to St Ives?

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Well, only two of us, but Ayr Holiday Park charge enough for a large family!



Musn't grumble too much as it was a perfect position looking down on St Ives beach and Porthmeor beach. We were nearly blown away, not by the view but by the mighty winds which set the tents flapping in a roundelay as they gusted down the hill. Rocking in the top of the Bongo I braced myself as the rains and wind continued. Do you see a theme developing here? 'Is this Summer yet?' If I heard that one more time I would scream, well not really just feel slightly guilty about my promise of beautiful surfing beaches and white sand in Cornwall. Just like Australia, I said. Foolish, I know. But I do remember the most glorious of days on some of those beaches, or is that a myth or selective memory that seems to think that every Summer was hot and dry?



The elderly couple we talked to in the fudge shop reminisced about the old days. 30 years ago he said he used to take a boat out to fish, costing him about 5shillings. Now, he said it's about 25 pounds an hour. And he said they are still trying to solve the parking problem. You could see why. Tiny cobble streets and alleyways (drangs) bursting with tourists, pushchairs, cars and motorcycles. So glad we weren't there in the school holidays. The first evening we wandered along the wharf quite happily at about six p.m. The next day at about four the area was heaving. Difficult even to find a table for a coffee. Graeme is still in search of the elusive 'best' cappuccino in England. They just don't seem to make them like we do back home! ( I said 'home' for Australia which will make my Mother happy as she is not sure we will be back.) The crowds saw us skedaddle up a backstreet and book a table at Olives Cafe for the evening. It advertised real Italian food cooked by Italians and we were enchanted by its décor and the small amount of tables it held. 'Should we have taken down the address?' I asked as we made our way back up the hill. Well, we certainly should have taken more note of where it was for it took us a few foiled bicycle attempts to find it again in the evening. We found it by chance not design! Food was good and the young hosts very friendly and chatty although a tad pricey for the portions served.



Tate St Ives was a must the next day and the steward who gave the guided tour of the Alex Katz exhibition informed, told, enthused and divulged snippets of the 85 year old artist's life and times. His jam-packed tour included a lecture on the small room devoted to the Cornish Encounter of Alfred Wallis, Ben and Winifred Nicholson and Christopher Wood. Views from the gallery itself were masterpieces in themselves, a mesmerising contrast of sand, waves and sky. Yes, the sun was shining and we went to sit on the perfect Porthgwidden beach; the sky was blue with scudding clouds and the water looked positively Mediterranean. A young couple frolicked in the water. We took off our shoes and socks and rolled up our trousers. We raced down to join in. The icy water brought us up with a shock. Toes and ankles feeling numb within moments. Not quite the Mediterranean, not quite Summer.



The day we left here the sun was not shining, it was raining again and we visited the Bernard Leach pottery. We were a few hours early for the opening of the Summertime Blues exhibition. The master potter Jack Doherty, who was housekeeping in the gallery, took time out to tell us about his magical delicate blue glaze featured on his pots in the exhibition. A copper and porcelain slip sprayed with sodium bicarbonate and water. Well, that's what I think he said. If I hadn't reminded myself of the pact I made with myself not to buy anything that was not directly usable for our time here, I would have weakened and added an aesthetically pleasing piece of pottery to our belongings.



Take the train from St Erth to St Ives. We did. A short but very sweet journey with views along the estuary by Hayle and to Carbis Bay and to Godrevy lighthouse immortalised by Virginia Woolf in To the Lighthouse. I didn't know this but probably would have been more interested than learning about its possibility as a surfing beach! We pondered where to next as we sat out of the wind in a small coffee shop off the harbour where I narrowly avoided being dropped down into the cellar as my chairlegs skirted the limed floor boards onto the old hinges. Maybe guests who didn't pay their bills ended up there! I paid,quickly.

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Photos

Tate St Ives
Detail of stained glass in the entry

The Bongo in situ
Perfect view over St Ives

Tate St Ives
Brings a new meaning to picture window