Still dreaming ...

A few days ago I ended my blog in the bath, dreaming. I had also digressed because I meant to say that while we were strolling around Morrab Gardens in Penzance, we passed the little French bistro we occasionally go to for a treat. Sitting at a window table on her own was a lady, presumably waiting for her food to arrive, drinking a glass of white wine and reading a book. The sun was streaming in through the window and she was oblivious of my envious backward look as husband dragged me away from gawping at her.

I know there's nothing unusual about someone reading a book at a table, but something always stirs in me, an irrational jealousy almost, as if I cannot do that. I think it is because I am witnessing two of the things I like to do, reading and drinking wine; the act of putting them together is heaven.

Watching her reminded me of an evening in the summer when we went on the spur of the moment into St.Ives after work. We took Max and walked along the front, around the headland, across the top of the beaches, and stopped off at another favourite eatery. Sitting directly on Porthgwidden Beach it is a perfect spot. We tucked Max under one of the tables on the terrace and ordered food and drinks.

The early evening sun was still warm and we had uninterrupted views out to sea and the expanse of clean white sand below us. We had completely forgotten about our individual stressful days at work but chatted and laughed, marveling at how lucky we are to live so close to such a special place.

I must sound as if I work for VisitCornwall but what I wanted to say was, that I noticed sitting behind us, a man at a small round table, cutlery laid out for his meal and he was enjoying a glass of red wine, but he too was oblivious of us and others, he was quite content with his own company and his book in which he was immersed; a perfect image.

Of course through the summer I'm sure you must have noticed many people relaxing and reading. I saw lots on sun-loungers around the pool on holiday, on deckchairs on the beach, and even someone floating in one of those blown-up plastic chairs in a pool. The sheer enjoyment I saw on those faces, not a television or computer in sight, made me more than ever want to succeed at writing, to be part of giving people pleasure.

I dream of one day seeing someone reclining happily reading a book of mine, what could be more thrilling? But you've got to write it first girl, stop dreaming and blogging and start real writing!

Thanks for reading this of mine.
PP