Pink Cupcakes

Ode to my Beloved

  

Last autumn, me and the fam went on a 2 week holiday to St Ives, reaffirming why I simply adore Cornwall more than any place I've visited, so, I'm re-visiting that time to attempt to analyse why Cornwall, in particular the Penwith Pennisula has inspired almost 20 years of novel writing.

About 6 years ago, but not for the first time, I had a really awful bout of writer's block.  All my usual inspirations failed me, and after almost 2 years of not being able to finish a novel, we went on a holiday to St Ives.

I'd never been before, so had no expectations, so it's fair to say, nothing prepared me for the fall; a fall that has changed my life.

On that first holiday, I didn't have any novel ideas, nothing like now, scribbling in my notebook all the time, characters falling at my feet, that kind of thing, back then, the inspiration I gathered from that beautiful coastal town only hit me once I returned home - and it really did hit me.

Big Fella asked me an interesting question a little while ago, "what is it about St Ives that makes it special for you?"  and these are a few of the things that came to mind:

The stunning coastline - the aerial view makes it look like an island, the Art and culture - for such a small town, it's buzzing with creativity, the obscure shops and galleries - they remain exclusive. The people - a combination of tourists and locals, diferent faces everyday/week.

 

The elation of stepping into the new Cath Kidston store on Fore Street sent waves of inspiration through me, not necessarily in the form of buying a bag or bedding, but something as simple as a rose print bed duvet, and knowing that's what my main female character will sleep beneath. 

Gordal olives and Vicky's Bread from The Digey Food Room, Cornflowers from Wheal Sara Flowers on Bedford Road and a bottle of Camel Valley Atlantic from the off licence on Fore Street transform into a dinner party or beach bbq, where characters talk and laugh and unlimately fall in love.

I've been writing about St Ives since the first time I visited.  For the record, I still get writer's block every now and again, but a trip to Cornwall usually sorts it out.  After my trip there last September, I came home and wrote "Hope and Jump", which is my next novel.

 

 I highlight St Ives for this blog, because I find that's where alot of my inspiration lies, but it's not just because of the coast line, although that will always feature heavily, it's the surrounding things that fuel me.  A new bakery has opened up on a corner by The Digey selling the most divine looking cupcakes, and OK, I have a slightly mild obsession for the things, but I also thought my leading lady could buy these fancy cakes for afternoon tea, at a cafe, or a naughty treat whilst she's drinking Champagne and writing - maybe?

Then there's the Minack theatre, Tate St Ives, the Arts and Literature events as part of the September festival, the restaurants and cafes, the cool scooter hire company, the Art galleries, the Penwith Film Society, the Cornwall food and drink fesitval, the buildings, and I guess mostly, the people (tourists and locals).  It's a whole world of inspiration that never fails me, like now, I've already penned the first 3 chapters of a new book, and the buzz is so that I think about it 24/7.

 

There's also my fascination with everything local, and of course that includes wine.  The first time I had a glass of chilled Camel Valley Atlantic was a couple of years ago at the Tate, sitting in the window of the cafe looking over Porthmeor beach and the Bay - stunning, again, this moment has stayed with me, and features in many guises throughout my writing.

 

But there's also the rather handsome and sophisticated 30 something man who walks into the chocolate shop with his son, the cottage on The Digey where if you discreetly glance through the open blinds at night you'll see a man sitting at a laptop with his drink.  There's the haunting sound of the crashing waves sweeping The Digey in the late and early hours, the invigorating aroma of a log burning fire on a cold October morning. The old salty sea cat that sits in the cottage window. If you look deep enough, everything can mean something.

  

 The reason for saying all this, is I have been asked the same question a few times recently, "I want to write a book, but where do Is start?",well, anywhere.  An open mind helps, as does using your imagination.  For instance, the beautiful man walking into the chocloate shop with his son, does not need to be the man with a son, you can take the bits of him that you liked the most, add a bit of something else, and a dash of imagination and fantasy, and you have a character ready to be manipulated. 

Music is the other aphrodisiac. Music, lyrics, the artist, whetever, this is an amazing source of inspiration. Many, if not all, of my novels/books/stories have been named after a song, or inspired by a particular lyric.  I spend alot of time on holiday listeing to The Kooks "Konk" and all the Colplay albums; now when I listen to them, I'm transported right back to Lily's Cottage (where we stayed) or The Hub (where we drank). Just find your space and get into it. 

Clothes and style are another thing. I often admire clothes I absolutely know will look awful on me, but I bet they'd look stunning on my lady.  For example, I love "surfie" fashion, girl's surfwear has come a long way; it's sexy, sassy and cool and I try to get away with wearing as much of it as I can, but some things I cannot get away with, and that's a cutie micro denim mini and flip flops, but hey, my lady can because she has beautiful legs, so that's good enough for me.

Pictures and photographs can also provoke something in me. I found a postcard of St Ives covered in snow and this scene captured so many thoughts the moment I saw it, I now have it pinned on my storyboard for ongoing reference.

BUT...never force it.  If it's there, it will develop.  Many times I've felt despeate to put something on paper and ended up writing the biggest load of rubbish and wasted my time in the process.  However, "doodling" with words can help, this is the reason for editing - it's about what makes works for you - experimenting may also help find your genre and your audience.

 

Everyone has something that makes them smile.  That makes them laugh or cry. That sends a tingle down their spine, or grimace in disgust. Something that frightens them. Emotions and instinct are my guide when I'm writing, and though it may not suit everyone, open your mind and let it flow free, not only is it liberating, it keeps you on a high beyond the last word on the page, and when you reach that point, you should be proud of yourself.

Just remember...ENJOY what you write, because if you don't, be certain no one else will.

K x x x.

Shame Less In Cornwall

 

Me and Big Fella made the Great Escape last weekend - to St Ives...childless.

Now, we'd been planning our trip to the Mighty St Ives for a fair few weeks, and since it was going to be the first time I'd been since February, I was yeah, fair to say, kinda excited, and to hope for sun, well...

 

Anyway, the folks came around to ours at 6am sharp, looking a little, well, shattered, and me and Big Fella packed the car for our one night extravaganza in our beloved Cornwall.  It was raining, butI still had a really good feeling in my belly.  In truth, I felt like a 35 year old teenager, and it was f***ing immense.

I stayed awake as long as I could, for almost 3 hours actually, but my eyes weirdly opening as I saw the "Welcome to Cornwall" sign, the sun was shining and I got butterflies.  Big Fella, still gossiping on his hands free, was unaware of my smile, or even of me being awake, and it all felt kinda grand.

 

It was after midday when we arrived (it is afterall a 5-6 hour journey!), and we needed 2 things: Food and drink.  We had to be careful, because we had things to do, but I still managed a small glass of wine and Big fella a Clouded Yellow in Sea Food Cafe on Fore Street.

After we'd finished the stuff we needed to do, we headed straight to The Castle for a cider, and my goodness, it was well worth the wait.

 

So well worth it, I think i finished a half in, um, 10 minutes.

After a couple more, and me having a bit of head on, we headed back to our lovely B&B The Cobbles and got ready to go out.  See, it's been a few years now since we've been in St Ives without the boys, and it does feel kinda weird, cus we know it's as much their place as ours, but tonight folks, unashamedly, it's mine! 

 

We eat at Al Fresco and head to The Hub.  It's good to see a young family in there at 9pm and we make plans for the summer.  Big Fella hints at watching the band at the Lifeboat again (!) and I'm just not sure.

He gets us a good deal on the wonderful drink that is Woodford Reserve (no London prices in St Ives y'know) and suddenly a live band sounds pretty cool, and so, a double WR later, we're sauntering off to the Lifeboat and I am Liam.

 

All scarf and skinny jeans, I walk in to the sound of The Shock of the Lightening and I just know we're in for a good night; I'm now, Liam, Noel, Gem and Andy all rolled into 1.

 

The band are Shameless, and feature a set that blinds me.  I am by nature, and rather annoyingly according to Big Fella - a music snob, but these guys have got my attention, a s*** load of alcohol or not.

 

Without sounding the embarrassing geek that I am, Shameless manage to convince me I'm at a Oasis, The Enemy (OMG!), Arctic Monkeys, Kings Of Leon, Killers, Green Day, Feeder, Kaiser Chiefs and Fratelli's gig all in one in Cornwall on a Friday night and I'm absolutely lovin' it, even slightly envious the South West monopolise this band I've only just found, so just to show my appreciation (and to Big fella's horror), as I hear the first few chords of "Sex On Fire", I'm up on the "dance floor", and I'm pleased to announce, I'm not the only one.

I'm having a ball, really I am, totally liberated on my Great Escape, thankful not just for Shameless' music, but also for their humour, as a girl outside the Lifeboat window presses her face against the glass and the quick witted vocalist refers to her as "windowlicker" which immediately taps into mine and Big fella's psyche, only to be swiftly followed by "there's always one...and she's all 20" - fantastic!

With an encore featuring the stunning Kings Of Leon "Use Somebody" and The Automatic's "Monster", I leave the Lifeboat happy and delirious and wanting to come back very soon...and we will.

I could have used someone like them, and I did, and it worked.

Here's to the summer.

K xx

Flip Flops

 

Where has the time gone?

 

Has it really been almost 4 weeks since I last said hello?

 

Then I really must apologise...sorry.

OK, no special treats for guessing why I've been absent for so long, the words say it all, and I'm not going to go into detail as to why I simply adore St Ives so much, but it has got me thinking about something.

Flip Flops.

I was really pleased to see a couple and their kids all wearing flip flops on the streets of St Ives.  Yes it was February and yes it was cold, but who cares when you're by the sea?  Does it matter that the sun isn't blazing, or that it's not June?  To some yes, but not to me, and obviously the couple mentioned above.

 

I've lost track of how many pairs of flip flops I've had over the past 8 years or so I've been wearing them.  I stay true to my Havaianas because they may be the most expensive, but they last for ages, they also happen to be the coolest.  They do for Flip Flops, what Converse do for baseball boots.

 

But I do deviate. Obviously.

Anyway, seeing that couple with their flip flops roaming around St Ives prompted me to unpack mine.  On and off I wore them around the town, but as we do alot of walking, it's fair to say I got just a little bit chilly.  However, on my return home I kind of forgot where I was and wore my flip flops to Tesco.  It's fair to say, my hometown is not as tolerant as I'd like it to be as I was greeted with either amused or shocked glances, hum.

But then this isn't the first time my passion for flip flops has got me into a bit of strife.  A few years back, me and Big Fella were strolling through Manchester on a rather chilly March 28 (my birthday!) and I thought I'd give my feet an airing.  What I didn't expect was to have full on confrontation with a woman who thought my attire so hilarious she laughed right in my face, the cheek, anyway, needless to say, being an Aries and all, she totted off rather taken aback by my outburst and Big Fella promptly took me to the nearest bar.

Anyway, I remain a slave to the flip flop and have already organised my wardrobe to accomodate this years new season, hooray!

x

No Place Like Home (that's St Ives)

 

I've had what I can only describe as the best festive period EVER!

OK, you may think that's a little drastic, but nevertheless true.

 

Christmas 2007, I was heavily pregnant with JB, and for the first time ever, Christmas became a drag, so  Big Fella and I made a deal right then, that in 2008, we'd become terribly anti-social and spend Christmas away, yes, in St Ives.

We stayed true to our deal, and as soon as I could I started shortlisting potential Christmassy cottages.  I think I chose about 10, all of which I adored.  Big Fella leaves these things up to me because he knows I know what I'm doing, most of the time anyway, and so, we eventually chose a beautiful cottage called Valentine.  and the lovely lady who owns it was so kind and helpful, I immediately knew I'd made the right decision.

 

We travelled to St Ives on the 20th December, still not really believing we were going to be away for Christmas.  The car was absolutely rammed with the kids presents, but with the excitement of 1. going to St Ives and 2. it's nearly Christmas, I didn't care I had two travel bags at my feet almost cutting off the circulation in my leg, but who cares, cus we're going on holiday.

The interesting thing was, when we got there, it was fairly mild, a contrast to the weather we'd left behind, and I have to say, a little busier than I'd imagined too, but  when I opened the door to Valentine Cottage, it took my breath away.

 

Anyway, enough gushing.  The weather turned increasingly colder much to our delight, and it didn't deter us from trecking the charming cobbled streets of our "home" town, and I have to say, we had the most amazing time, the boys included, Little Fella indulging his wild side by running on the beach in freezing temperatures with his bucket and spade, and JB in his "Jab mobile" (buggy), drifting from cottage, to beach, to shops, to cafes and appearing very content with his cute Rudolph nose.

 

Christmas Day was momentous. How the cottage accomodated so much wrapping paper and Little Fella rushing from one present to anotehr I don't know, mind, I was happy with my Moet Bucks Fizz, a surreal feeling at 8am, so I let him get on with it.  JB also got stuck in, a real pro when it came to opening presents; he mostly definately wan't going to be outdone by his brother.

Our Christmas morning walk was a delight.  It was cold and everyone we passed wished us a "Merry Christmas", and seeing St Ives in this light was posssibly to nearest we've come to experiencing what it must be like to be a resident.  It was a little calmer, a little quieter, and as we strolled to Porthmeor, there were people sitting around breakfast tables smiling and laughing, wearing paper hats and looking tired; the euphoria has stayed with me.

 

After our walk, we returned to the cottage where the kids were unleashed to eat as much choccy as they wished and play with their toys, oddly, they preferred to play with each others.  Anyway, me and Big Fella got on with the dinner, well, Big Fella did, I laid the table, well, it is important you know, and I have to say, I'm glad he did make the dinner because it was LOVELY!

 

Yes, believe it, veggies have a tastey Christmas dinner too, all we do is exchange the bird for a fake one, we even have cranberry sauce, ooh, it shouldn't be allowed, Gordon Ramsey, I hope you're f***ing reading!

 

Anyway, Little Fella did his usual and "conveniently" fella asleep as dinner was being served, but it didn't stop JB indulging in a little mash and carrots bless him.

 

The rest of the holiday flew by much to our sadness.  We wanted it to last forever, and it went by so quick I sometimes wonder whether I dreamt it.  Needless to say, we've already booked ourselves up for another visit in Feb, but before we had to leave, we "discovered" a village a few miles from St Ives called Zennor.  Now, I know this must sound strange that we've been going to St Ives all this time and haven't been, but now we have, and I've fallen in love.

 

Actually, one of my lasting memories of our Christmas in St Ives is actually having soup and a cider in The Tinners' Arms in Zennor, a very basic pub where you get everything you expect, roaring fires, good hearty food and real ale - total magic.

 

But I guess nothing beats the beauty of St Ives on a cold and gusty December afternoon,

 

or the stunning Christmas tree outside the council offices,

 

or Fore Street at night.

 

As you've guessed, WE LOVE ST IVES even more than before, but I'm not sad we've had to leave anymore, not just because we've booked ourselves another stay pretty soon, but because one day, not so far away, I may be writing this blog for you in the place I love.

Happy 2009!

Karen XX

Why my heart will always be in St Ives

  20 years ago, for the first time, I travelled along the A30 to Newquay, and subsequently fell in love...with Cornwall.

These days I travel along the A30 to visit St Ives, a place I gave my heart to just over 5 years ago.  Big Fella and I share a mutual love of this tiny town on the Penwith peninsula, and make it our mission to visit at least twice a year if not more. 

My mum refers to St Ives as my "grown up" Newquay, and she's right, and since I've moved on 20 years, it is still my life's mission, the one where I promised myself at some time in my life I'd moved to Cornwall, and it's hopefully getting closer.

Right, so, let me tell you a little about our holiday.  When we first booked it way back when, we wondered whether 2 weeks might be too much, too expensive etc, but knowing how fast it went, and what an amazing time and break we had, I'd do it again anyday.

We started our journey on a Thursday evening stopping overnight in Oakehampton to break up a potential 6 hour trudge down the motorway.  I'd packed a chilled half bottle of white and some nibbles for me and Big fella for when the kids were kipping, and with St Ives just within our grasp, I was buzzing.

Well, best laid plans and all, but this is what really happened.  Little fella was bouncing with excitement, literally, the bed almost collapsing. JB wide eyed and giggling in the travel cot at the sight of his brother's circus act, the guy upstairs banging on the floor for us to be quiet and Big Fella threatening to go up and punch his lights out, and me, well, thoughts of that glass of wine were fading rapidly. 

At approximately 11pm, lights were out, me in bed with Little Fella and snuffy, and Big Fella on the fold out bed beside JB's cot.  All was not calm, or well, but we did muster a giggle at Big Fella's comparison to National Lampoons!

Anyway, next morning, by pass the Little Chef and head straight back on the A30 until reaching St Ives.  By this time I'm on the edge of my seat.  It's been 12 months, way too long.  We meet my folks in The Sloop car park and the holiday begins.  The beach is the first stop as Little Fella cannot believe how big the sandpit is, and the swimming pool is even bigger. 

Anyway, by 3pm I'm walking along The Wharf to collect the keys to "Lily's Cottage", yes, that's right, Lily's, and yes, shamefully chosen for the name, but when we get inside, we're all equally as pleased I chose it.

We quickly unpack and head straight back out, we may have 2 weeks in St Ives, but time is precious.  I quickly discover the new Cath Kidston shop on Fore Street and jump with excitement, Big Fella wincing at the potential damage to our bank account.  I also find a bakery selling the most exquisite cupcakes, and I just know I was born to live here.

 For the 2nd year running, we're in St Ives for Big fella's birthday, and the lovely thing about this year, is my folks are staying in to look after the kids so we can go out for dinner.  See, I've had "Alba" booked for 3 months, with special instructions to have a sea view and I'm SO hoping it's upstairs.

Anyway, we spend the morning opening presents, well, Big fella and Little Fella wrestling to open the presents, then onto Porthminster beach for a run around to wear the kids out.

  The sun is glorious and it feels like summer.  I hear a lady talking in the cafe who says she's going to write in her diary summer now officially starts on 19th September.

Little Fella goes in the sea again and I'm on JB duty, so get to sit and enjoy the scenery as well as building up inspiration and ideas for a new novel.

It's the burden of being a writer, and I just can't get the ideas down quick enough, infact, I've been getting some weird looks in cafe's for always pulling out my notebook, I guess I forget it must look odd, maybe even pretentious, but I can't help it, and won't stop.

Right, so, back to the cottage for a quick change and we're out for Big Fella's birthday, Alba, the slightly upmarket restaurant onshore.  The food is stunning, a little pricey, but it is a special occasion, and that view, WOW, well worth the money, a totally beautiful view across the bay to Smeaton's Pier, now that and a glass of wine were simply made for each other.

And it looked even more beautiful at night, with the clear dark sky and twinkling lights from the fisherman's cottages, the moon reflecting on the sea, and I wonder again how we can make this move happen.

Anyway, back to The Hub for a quick drink, before strolling along the Harbour and heading home.  All in all, a wonderful day and night.

 Next stop, the Tate.  Now, there's a major reshuffle going on when we get there, so only the shop and Cafe are open, so we head upstairs and I indulge in a glass of Camel Valley white wine which I've been going on about for 12 months.  We think we can sip in peace, but Little Fella has other ideas, we attempt to entertain him with crayons and paper, but he suddenly has a crazy moment and I fear my wine will be knocked over, only to do it myself!  An ear splitting silence follows as I attempt to clear the mess up, and Big Fella jokes everyone thinks we must have won the lottery and that's the only reason we can afford to drink in the Tate.  I see the funny side, but I'm fuming inside at my loss of drink.

But the olives were rather nice, and I did manage a few before our quick exit, with a promise to come back when the kids are asleep.

 To our dismay, the first week is coming to an end, and we don't like it much.  My folks are kindly staying in on the Thursday so me and Big Fella can go to a restaurant I've been dreaming about for almost 5 years, Saltwater. 

Since it only opens in the evening, we've never quite been able to make it, but now is the time, and I cannot wait...I am not disappointed.  The service is excellent and the food, gorgeous.  I've gone mad on soup and think I'm eating it morning, noon and night.  The chef brings out the food herself, an extra touch and it works, we tip well.

 We head to The Hub for a final drink, and soak up the evening atmosphere by sitting outside and watching the tide come gently in.

Having this time with my Big Fella reminds me of all the reasons why we're together, and also why he is the best company in the world.

Anyway, enough of the gushing.

My folks time in St Ives is sadly drawing to a close and so we try to spend as much time together as we can. The drinks are flowing, as well as the food.  I can't get into half my clothes but think I'll worry about that when I get home.

We eat in the Union, and a cool little place on High Street called Seven, where the hell bent for leather frontman (who my mum says looks like Mark Owen, and he does!) works his butt off to keep everyone happy, and he does, and again, we tip well.  More drinks, more seaside frolics and I forget the time. 

I don't wear my watch so when discover it's almost the end of the first weekend I feel sad inside.

I am however, growing more inspired, and after walking past the uber cool Calico a few times this week, I finally pluck up the courage to go in and get that Orla Kiely notebook.

I immediately start to write down a few ideas that have been drifting around my head all week, along with a Corona in The Hub of course.

Sadly, it's time for my folks to go home, leaving us in a bit of disarray.  We didn't think it would feel so bad them going and us staying, but Sunday was a total wipe out.  We sauntered around the town and beaches and even a drink didn't seem to suppress the sadness.  By Monday we'd picked ourselves back up, and off we went again.

We toured the beaches, went on long walks, and stopped for coffee and a spicy veggie sausage roll on the harbour - daily.  The sun was still warm, but the cloud was coming over.  The temperatures were beginning to drop and it was feeling like autumn, but we didn't grumble, because the harsh breeze and rain brings crashing waves and cosy evenings, so we soak it up, it was totally beautiful.

 Our time in this most stunning town is coming to a close.  We try to visit the places we know we won't see again for a while, lunch in Alfresco, a disastrous visit to the Tate Cafe involving a buggy, a rather rude lady and her spilt coffee and me getting a little firm - enough said. But is didn't ruin a thing.

When we booked this holiday, I thought 2 weeks would last forever, it didn't, and here I am, back home writing this blog and feeling very happy, but a little sad it's over, but so VERY glad we went the extra mile and booked for Christmas, and I know most people feel like this after their holiday, because routine and inhibitions go out the window, but do you know what, I had that awful gut feeling in my belly when we left, a bit like 20 years ago, leaving Newquay, and so, we're making our plans, it's just time...

...and a fair bit of patience.

Happy Monday to you.

K xx

VIVA LA CORNWALL!

Well hello! I'm back.  OK, for those of you who don't know, I've just come back from 8, yes 8, wonderful days and nights in St Ives, Cornwall and now I have so much to tell you I don't know where to start.

Right, well in Big Fella's true fashion, he decided at the last minute that we should stay over in a B&B on the Friday (we weren't due to land in St Ives until the Saturday), and since me and little fella had nothing else planned, we thought, why the hell not.  So, me and Big Fella searched the Internet and found this cool place on Skidden Hill called "Seaforth".  The proprietor was very lovely, because she had one room available and let us have it even though she doesn't usually allow kids.  We left home at 9.30am, and mainly due to Big Fella's driving, we landed in beautiful St Ives at 2.30pm (including a half hour stop).  We hung around Smeatons Pier for a while and little fella got to make an absolute mess of himself on the beach that later resulted in nappy rash (sand, little bums and nappies do not mix well).

But at least he was happy, well, until we had to leave the beach, but something more pressing was calling, my stomach.  I'd been dreaming of Pel's (lovely food place on the sea front) crepes for days, a delicious crepe with lemon and sugar, and I was not disappointed, however, it didn't stop there, it was followed by a cup of PG tips and a spicy veggie roll from the Cornish Bakehouse, and for tea, we went on to have a takeaway pizza from Frubar, which I shared with little fella, so that makes my calorie count OK, right?

Anyway, it was getting late and we thought it best to retire back to the B&B to tuck up the little man so me and Big Fella could enjoy the views from our window, however, it turned out that Little Fella had other plans, and tucked us up instead. With no intentions of getting any kip (the idea of staying in the same room as mum and dad way too exciting), let's just say it wasn't the calm, relaxing night we'd been hoping for.

But all was forgiven because we woke up (knackered) but in St Ives with a beautiful view across Godrevy and Smeaton's Pier.  We followed this with a lovely veggie breakfast, where little fella managed to eat his toast without us making a dive under the table with embarressment, and just as we thought all was safe, he let out one almighty burp just as another couple joined us - oh, the joy of kids hey.

We wandered excitedly around the streets of St Ives, reacquainting ourselves and eating more food than surely my stomach can hold, and by 3pm, we were allowed into "Trecara" our sweet seaside cottage on The Digey.  After hurriedly unpacking, we were off again, orange Quinny in tow and a screaming 2 year old in situ (why did it feel as though our child was the only one being naughty?), but it didn't stop, yet more rounds of takeaway tea and coffee, veggie pasties, more crepes and another pizza (from Pel's) and thoughts of what to have for tea - which is how we spent the rest of the week.

During our disgraceful food binges, we did manage to see a few shops, namely my absolute favourite, "The Glass Tree" on The Digey, a very girly place to pick up Christmas decs, fairies, anything pink and fluffy and always with a lovely window display, and "The Digey Food Room", cream teas (yes more food) to die for.  The "Fore Street Deli" for bread, olives and cheese, and "Fabulous Kids", a cool kids shop to bribe your noisy 2 year old with a present so you can nip off to the "Hub" cafe bar for a swift half.   

To do this, I highly recommend "Slinky Malinki" by Lynley Dodd, a cute rhyming book for kids, and since little fella loves cats and books, this went down a treat in sending him off, plus, he got his very own Slinki and we got a drink in return - coolio.

As you've probably guessed, we spent the whole 8 days, shopping, walking, eating and drinking (BIG emphasis on eating here), but that aside, St Ives is such an amazing place. I totally understand why it's a mecca for Artists, it's just so inspirational, and mostly unspoilt, with cute shops with one off jewellery pieces, driftwood clocks, shell candles, handmade bags, a different view from every angle and Art that comes out your ears, and that's before you've been to the Tate - I recommend the shop if you love books and postcards, and the cafe is pretty cool too if you can ignore some of the pretentious fools.

A stroll to Porthmeor and Porthgwidden beaches are a must on a breezy and wet evening.  Go just as it's dusk and wrap up warm. We were lucky to be there on the highest tide of the year and the waves were enormous, eerily beautiful, think Du Maurier's "Rebecca".

And talking of Daphne, we found a little spot she used to stay during the 1940's, and there was me thinking I was the only writer drowning in a sea of artists (OK, very bad, sorry).

  Anyway, as you can guess, I got seriously inspired during this holiday, as I always do.  It won't be the first novel I've written based in St Ives, and it certainly won't be the last, and since we love it so much, me and big fella are starting a "St Ives Fund", and maybe one day I might be writing this blog from the comfort of my cosy seaside cottage listening to the rough seas and selling as many books as Daphne (oh what a lovely dream...)

Right, so that's a glimpse into what I've been up to of late, and despite trying to make the holiday last until Monday, it steadily slips from your fingers the moment you pull up outside your house, but even so, memories and photographs are powerful so, I'll leave you with this lovely sunset over Porthmeor whilst I dream of my seaside cottage.