Wednesday, 17 September 2014

Sunday from St.Martins

Karma St.Martins

Day 4.

After meeting a group of hearty Frenchmen who were sailing round the islands as their Fathers and Grandfathers had done before them a day of tranquillity beckoned.  Celebrating that the hotel was re-opened with bottles of rosé from the St.Martins vineyard their laughter and delight was infectious.  Frenchmen or a drop dead gorgeous sunset ? Don't be fooled for one moment that this is a far flung dot of islands with little to do, the time goes quicker here than it does 'back home' and yet it stands still. Remarkable.

I was now faced with a dilemma, did I go and count my blessings on the islands church and support the terribly welcoming new vicar of St.Martins and Tresco or did I sail the sea's and venture to another island for the day ? An elderly yet distinguished lady guest sighed rather deeply and issued forth a disapproving but well timed sniff. 'So the calling of your stomach is greater than the calling from above' ? Oh dear, oh dear.

I had missed the boat because I had thought there would be a second one.  Luckily I found a boatman and enquired how much it would be to charter his boat across so cajoled a group of people on the beach to join me....  What a heavenly day, the little boat zoomed across the sparkling waters and everyones faces shone with happiness. One lady shrieked with disbelief as the ridiculously photogenic island of Bryher appeared. 'It's cute' she said 'but imagine no John Lewis'. I sampled pasta made with lobster coral, local sea-salt, olive oil, lemon and filled with lobster mousse, followed by coffee&walnut sponge, Troy Town Farm, St Agnes clotted cream ice-cream. Managed to stagger to the islands Hell Bay hotel for a pot of tea and find the strength to marvel at another round of exquisite curving bays.

Sunday had been blissful.  As the hotel came into view some-one remarked 'we're home' and so we were. Later I slunk up to the tiny church, the scent of the flowers by the door picked off the island was divine. I opened up the worn wooden door carefully. 'Thank you' I whispered.  I don't know who was listening but I knew I had been heard.

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