Thursday, March 01, 2012

The Island, St Ives

In planning my walk from Lands End to Cape Wrath, I always had it in mind that it would be nice to pass through St Ives on my father's birthday - March 1st.  

As it happens setting out around this time makes a lot of sense: there's a chance to catch the start of spring in England and to arrive  in Scotland before the start of the midge season. So to choose to coincide with my father's birthday was just a matter of fine tuning.

The Island at St Ives was my mother and father's favourite place. Every year, during their annual holiday they would set themselves up on the grass, facing the sea, with folding chairs and the cool-box. My mother would knit and my father would read the paper and worry about tomorrow's weather. 

There's a part of them that remains there: 

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that does fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.

      Shakespeare - The Tempest