Sorry for lack of posts recently. Life is busy in Cornwall and I am currently trying to sell things on ebay – this takes up almost all of my available internet time.
What I have been thinking about is how lovely it is to be in Cornwall, to see friends, to walk up Chapel Carn Brea and see the Scillies glistening in the distance, to have coffee in The Honeypot, to drop into Penzance Home Hardware and buy some masking tape, to have lunch in the Lamorna Pottery, to bump into familiar people in the streets, to understand all that is spoken around me, to watch the sun setting from the Merry Maidens, to eat brambles freshly picked from the lane, to see huge flocks of rooks circling over the fields, to hear tractors rumbling along the road, to buy fish in Newlyn, to dance tango in the British Legion, to read the Cornishman from cover to cover, to look forward to Film Club in the Savoy on Sunday, to see fresh flowers and vegetables for sale by the edge of the road, to see millions of stars when I take the dogs out for their last pee of the night……
What does this mean? That I feel at home? That I have been missing Penwith? That I want to stay here?
Or is it just that I love Cornwall as well as Catalunya and I am now in the situation familiar to many travellers where I have two homes and two places to enjoy? And two places to miss.
It’s a strange process.