Friday greetings, friends,
While drinking coffee after the service at Mevagissey last Sunday I was talking to a lovely couple who have just come to live there. They told me that they had given up their jobs working for a Christian charity to come to Cornwall and that they were in the happy position of being able to take some time out to see what they should be doing next. Someone on our table explained to them that the congregation was depleted because several regulars were away on holiday. They both looked aghast and she asked why anyone living in Mevagissey would need a holiday. Her husband said, ‘Where would they go??????’ To them Mevagissey was a dream destination that they’d worked long and hard to get to and not a departure point.
This set me thinking about the way we take where we live for granted. When we worked in the Post Office hardly a day went by without someone asking for directions. This was no problem until they asked us what it was like where they wanted to go and we had to admit that we didn’t know because we’d never been. Like them, our holidays were taken in new places where we too sometimes had to ask for directions from local people who didn’t know what the places we wanted to visit were like.
My favourite holiday anecdote comes from a coach tour in Scotland when we went to a tiny, ‘back of beyond’ place in a stunning coastal setting. We were dropped in the massive coach park of a cafe and given time to explore. Apart from the spectacular views there was nothing much to see, just a few cottages and, except the very busy cafe, no shops or community buildings of any sort. Ever curious, I asked our waitress what they did in winter and, without missing a beat, she said, ‘Count our money!’
A little old lady was going for a holiday with her daughter who had recently moved to Cornwall.
She was pleased when she managed to get the front seat on the bus, right behind the driver.
Every ten minutes or so she’d ask him, “Have we reached St Austell yet?”
“No, madam, not yet, I’ll let you know when we do,” he replied, with as much patience as he could muster.
The hours passed and the old woman kept asking until eventually they pulled into St Austell bus station.
Sighing with relief, the driver slammed on the brakes, parked and called out,
“Right, this is where you get out – I’ll get your luggage for you.”
“Is this really St Austell?”
“YES!” he bellowed. “Get out!”
“Oh no, I’m going all the way to Penzance,” she explained sweetly.
“It’s just that my daughter told me that when I got to St Austell I should take my blood pressure pill.”
Love to you all,
wherever you are and whatever you’re doing,