St Ives

Yesterday we finally managed to go on a weekday day trip. This was one of the things I was looking forward to most when I decided to quit my knitting magazine job and earn money from home. When I worked in an office the idea of going on a trip on a Monday would have seemed completely idyllic, luxurious and pretty much unimaginable. I just got into the car with Ben and went there yesterday though, and it was just as delicious as I hoped it would be.

Breton top: Zara
Skirt: French Connection
Neckscarf: Vintage
Boat shoes: Topshop
Bag: Vintage

St Ives was quite full of tourists, which I (for some reason) wasn't expecting, although it is still a working harbour, which gives it some legitimacy as a place rather than just being a tourist haven. It's curious what they do to their seaside in England – I always wonder at the locals who perpetuate the throngs of karrimor-clad slow walkers with their Cornish pasty shops and other typecast tourist traps.

I am envious of Virginia Woolf's father, whose discovery of St Ives she writes about in her essay 'A Sketch of the Past'. I forgot to take a look at Talland House, but I'll make sure I go the next time:

Father on one of his walking tours, it must have been in 1881, I think—discovered St Ives. He must have stayed there, and seen Talland House to let. He must have seen the town almost as it had been in the sixteenth century, without hotels, or villas; and the Bay as it had been since time began.

I've read a couple of books set around that area of Cornwall and they have romanticised it for me with their descriptions of beautiful light and quiet, simple days. The light was indeed beautiful, and I have never seen such luminous shadows, but I suspect that the quiet, simple days are something rather unimaginable now, which is why, when you are working away at your desk, in your office, they seem so far away.