The next day, we visited St Ives. It’s on the North coast, but only a few miles.
I was fretting a bit as we’d invited friends in for dinner and I hadn’t got food yet. We’d bumped into our landlady, who was invited, and asked her where she did her shopping “The Co-op, Lidl, Morrison!” she answered cheerfully. I wanted to ask where she bought fresh local food, but didn’t like to seem a bit, well, snarky, since that’s the word that’s been used about me recently (pshaw!) so I didn’t.
On the approach to St Ives, we saw a farm shop and went in. The first thing I saw was aubergines (not grown in England in April!). But they had local asparagus and new potatoes and lettuce and various suitable-for-present goodies, so we shopped there.
We parked near the Tate and my eye was caught by this. Fabulous, isn’t it. I like the anatomy of a house.
The Tate building is very fine. Having been to a lecture about 20th Century St Ives artists – not as well known as the Newlyn group, but excellent and underrated, I had expected a wider range of paintings than there were. I dabble in the periphery of modern art, with little knowledge but some appreciation and I found some things to like, but not to rave over.
Nice views, though
I realise you’re getting an awful lot of sea/beach photos. Sorry about that, but I lived by the sea for 60% of my life and I miss it.