Wednesday, 2 May 2012
A Magical Mystery Tour
Despite a somewhat lumpy ride (anyone who’s been on the Scillonian knows what I mean), we got there and the sun came out instantly.
We certainly made the most of our 60 seconds, as Rudyard Kipling said. After a quick coffee and bite to eat, we explored the island – or as much as we could – in glorious sunshine and took endless photos. For anyone who hasn’t been to Scilly, the islands – in the weather we saw them – are literally out of this world. Silver sandy beaches, sea an emerald green mixed with the deepest, richest blue, and these wonderful islands scattered in among the Caribbean-like waters. St Mary’s was joyously peaceful, with virtually no traffic, the only sound our laughter and the birds singing. It really did feel as if we were on holiday on paradise.
We just had time for a quick pint before getting the ferry back (we were sorely tempted to miss it) when Dave the captain invited us up on the bridge as the ferry left St Mary’s, so I could take more photos for my article.
That was really quite something and an experience we will never forget, standing up there in the spring sunshine, watching those magical islands diminish. My memories of the day are like a kaleidoscope, glistening with sun filled jewels:-
Laughing till we cried at a photo taken the previous weekend.
My white face, feeling seasick, and a gentle voice saying, “Lie down. You know it’s a good idea.” I woke up feeling much better.
The Atlantic pub with its cosy nook of maritime memorabilia.
Moll tearing along the silver beaches, ears streaming behind her with joy.
Standing on the bridge in the sunshine as we left St Mary’s, leaving a piece of our hearts behind - sad at leaving such a bewitching place; glad to have had such a joyous experience.
Fish and chips later, so hot they burnt my tongue, bringing much needed warmth and energy back.
A quiet journey home, exhausted but content.
I woke the next morning, feeling achingly sad. As you know, I’m normally a glass half full sort of person. I walked Moll through a churchyard full of the sweet spring scent of bluebells mixed with the pungent, earthy smell of wild garlic and thought how difficult it is when people you care about have to go away. Even when you know they’re coming back.
Then I received a lovely, cheering text of thanks for our day on Scilly. The sun came out and my mood lifted. Sometimes that’s all it takes to make a difference. A few carefully chosen words.
So, as an editor said to me once, “keep ‘em coming.”