POST 5/2026 CARBIS BAY CORNWALL . . . We’re having a brilliant time. I say that hesitatingly, given all that’s going on. Still, with unsettled elements and unsettling times, we’re upbeat, happy among friends, settled, acting in the audacity of hope.

I chuckle at a cartoon from Sunday’s Observer, in which a Goldfish says to its partner, “I’d suggest living together in peace and harmony but who listens to a Goldfish?” I believe God smiled at, if not inspired, the cartoonist’s point.

National Trust Glendurgan Garden, Mawnan Smith, near Falmouth, Cornwall. Friday day out with Steve and Marilyn.

We’ve embraced brilliance during the first fully sunny days since we arrived more than a month ago. The embrace included a day out; a Saturday wander through the wonder (and storm devastation) of Steeple Woodland Nature Preserve; the Fifth Sunday of Lent worship service; a walk for Sunday Roast at Polmanter Touring Park’s Stable Bar Restaurant (where the hostess remembered our visit on Easter Sunday last year); and an eight-mile walk on Monday along paths, lanes, roads and sand to Hayle.

At the start of our Monday walk I felt motion and emotion from head to toe. Legs striding rhythmically. Boots scrunching on gravel. Eyes surveying hedges, sea, the passing train, golfers. Nose inhaling the coconutty perfume of gorse. Voice engaged with a dog walker who said her crafty 12-year-old dog waited for us to catch up probably for a treat rather than to show us the way, as I suggested. Appetite enticed by a streetside kiosk with cakes and bakes by Julie (we picked up a Cherry Bakewell Blondie, putting the payment in an honesty box). Ears tuned to a blackbird’s lyrical song. Mind wondering as we passed a stalled quayside rejuvenation project. Salivating as we spot Gilberts Beach Bar and Kitchen, delicious late lunch.

Picked up pasties at Philps Bakery. Caught the bus for the ten-minute ride to Carbis Bay. Chatted with Mark, who with Anna, operate the Mustard Tree B&B. Friends Carol and Dee will stay at the Mustard Tree in a few weeks. Headed downhill home. Pasties for tea. The Bakewell Blondie will prove it’s brilliance later.

Briefly

On 20 March, Steve and Marilyn took us to National Trust Glendurgan Garden, about an hour’s drive from Carbis Bay. Fabulous day, even with a lesson in patience as we queued in Helston for the ubiquitous one-lane roadworks.

We’ve visited Glendurgan multiple times, I never get tired of seeing the profusion of camelias, magnolias and spring wildflower banks. The old garden adage comes to mind: “The kiss of the sun for pardon, / The song of the birds for mirth, / One is nearer God’s heart in a garden / Than anywhere else on earth.” (God’s Garden, by Dorothy Frances Gurney, 1858-1932; often found on Border Sundials).

People, too, can bloom where they’re sit-uated.

Glendurgan spills out onto the Helford River. The South West Coast Path skirts the garden along the river. Ten years ago we walked the path from nearby Helford to Falmouth. As I recall, Marty and I walked in fog past Glendurgan and farther on had to ask for directions. Nothing lost, but a bit of time; much gained in the kindness of strangers.

Of course, a stop at the National Trust bookshops is a must for Steve and me. Almost never enough time. I bought The Official Encylopaedia of the Cornish Pasty, by Les Merton, illustrated by Nicola Clark. The title is misleading. It’s a tongue-in-cheek, words-in-the-mouth farcical treatment of pasties, tracing them from the Garden of Eden to 2003 when the booklet was published.

I love the quotations section attributed to famous people. Here are five:

Shakespeare: “My pasty, my pasty. My kingdom for a pasty,”

Henry Ford: “You can have any pasty you like, as long as it’s a Cornish one.”

Homer: “Wait, a pasty has escaped the barrier of thy teeth!”

Baroness Orczy: “We seek them here, we seek them there, / We seek them pasties everywhere.”

The Fairy Godmother: “You will have a pasty, Cinderella.”

Peace.

-John