During our stay, we spent evenings with our hosts, and entertained ourselves during the day.
Leaving for a day in St Ives, I noticed the house name-plate that I’d missed on arriving, the previous evening.
On reaching the coast, the first major sighting of the sea is always pleasing. On this occasion, it translated into a shiver as I anticipated the bracing sea air.
Sated and warmed, we felt it necessary to take a walk, lest we be guilty of sloth.
Emma: Did you see what that sign said – the one on the door of the bakers?
Shane: Nope. I was very much crumble-focused.
Emma: It said ‘Frozen rabbits – three pounds each’. In a cakes and sweets shop!
Shane: Probably best not mention the store of frozen rabbits when we unveil the crumble.
Emma: Best not.
Shane: Mm. Now, if we hurry, we might be able to get up to Truro in time for me to show you that paper owl.
Emma: Paper owl?
Emma: …I can hear hooting.
Shane: I can’t hear anything.
(A barely audible tone)
Chloe: (whispering) Oh, brilliant! (rising) The owl box!
Ian: (whispering, rising) She made me put up an owl box – in the tree just outside of your bedroom window – part of my unofficial bereavement therapy. Come on, let’s have a look – leave the upstairs lights off.
Up the stairs, onto the landing, a left turn, quietly – slowly - through the bedroom door, an immediate right turn, and we all crept towards the window.
Chloe looked first, then drew Emma closer to her. Emma waved Ian and I over.
Perched on a branch just outside of the owl box, looking away from us, sat a tawny owl.
Impressed, we whispered.
Shane: Good work.
Chloe: Good, isn’t it.
Emma: It’s amazing.