fbpx

2015 Grateful 23

I was at a birthday party last night. The invitation said no presents, just your presence. But people still brought gifts. Me included. There’s a whole culture around gift-giving that probably says more about ourselves than the person we’re giving to. Friends I’ve known for years, and know well, have yet to get it right with me while more recent friends get it right all the time.

There’s an old Indian thing (I think it’s a Cherokee belief) that when giving a gift, you should give something you value, not something you think the other person needs or wants. And the more you value what you part with, the more they say you value that friendship. I think that has legs.

The older we get, the fewer things we need, the less clutter we want in our lives. Okay – it is nice to wear a piece of jewelry that is a daily reminder of the person who gave it to you. Or to spray some perfume and have the scent evoke nice thoughts. But for me, experiential presents are the way to go. Give me something from which memories are made.

I got an early birthday present last week. A weekend in St Ives in Cornwall. Visiting St Ives has been on my list since I learned the nursery rhyme:

As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives,
Each wife had seven sacks,
Each sack had seven cats,
Each cat had seven kits:
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were there going to St. Ives?

IMG_0045 (800x600)IMG_0044 (800x600)IMG_0033 (800x600)20150718_195322_resizedBut I got it wrong. That particular St Ives is in Cambridgeshire. The one in Cornwall is famous for its light. For about 200 years, the area has attracted famous painters like Turner, potters like Bernard Leach, sculptors like Barbara Hepworth and her artist husband, Picasso’s mate Ben Nicholson. Admittedly, I’d had my doubts about the whole light thing. But I’m now convinced. It’s somehow purer, clearer, crisper than usual. And it’s not difficult to imagine why artists would find it appealing.

We took the train from Bath- it’s about a five-hour trip with stops along the way, changing to a local coastline hopper in St Erth. We ate Cornish pasties. We had cream tea (scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream) while sitting on the beach. We discovered the delights of Cornish gin. We cooked local lamb for dinner one night. And we ate out at the fabulous Portgwidden Beach Café another night, a dinner which is now on my top ten list of most memorable meals I’ve had so far in my life. We wandered through the art galleries, hunted through the charity shops, dodged the tourists as they navigated the cobblestone streets. It was lovely. Really lovely.

I was there with one of my besties, the lovely MC. We hadn’t spent any time of note together in a while so it was a much overdue catch-up. Between us, we clocked up a fair few hours talking through the whys and wherefores of relationships, politics, religion, kids, careers, life in general. We parsed and analysed our independent lives, our sense of self, the challenges we face in compromise. And we concluded, that having had no kids ourselves, our friends have become our extended family.

20150719_165359_resizedThis time last week, I was being attacked by a seagull who stole the chocolate out of my 99 and then had the nerve to stand in front of me and wolf it down.  I should have believed the signs. Today, I’m in a blessedly cooler flat (a massive storm last night with another on the way by the sounds of it), with  a long to-do list in front of me, hoping to make inroads into the work that has accumulated while I was gone. But before I get to it, I’m reliving my weekend in St Ives and giving thanks for the joys of lasting friendship – the gift that keeps on giving. And for experiential presents that can be relived over and over and over again.

Share:

Never miss a post

Sign up here to get an email whenever I post something new.

More Posts

Zalaszabar, Hungary, again

First-time visitors are easy. For them, everything is new. Repeat visitors are a tad more problematic. Don’t get me wrong. It’s great to see different

Szent György hegy, Hungary

The name Szent György hegy loses its magic in translation. The mundane St George’s hill doesn’t do justice to the beauty of the basalt homeland

Truth from the Cockpit

I miss travelling. I miss planes. And airports. And even RyanAir’s annoying we’re-ahead-of-schedule-but-only-because-we-buffered-the-timetable bugle call. Worse still, it’s taking me longer and longer to conjure

Dining with Pigeons in Southwestern Hungary

Unlike in Irish, the names of Hungarian villages and towns and cities don’t always translate into English. On the odd occasion that they do, they

4 Responses

  1. Mary, I’m glad that you enjoyed your trip and now that you’re back in the city i have a question. Do Budapest residents try to avoid the Sziget Fest congestion by finding activities far from the area? Does the crush of tourists make those who commute feel exasperated? I ask because I live near Daytona Beach,Fl. and we all avoid the area during Bike Week, Speed Week and Spring Break, not to mention the Fourth of July race.I did notice that Budapest Bar will be at the Zoo on the 21st [Zoltan Orosz on the 13th] so there’d be something away from the river for you to do. Avoid the heat, Andy

    1. Why did I think you were living in Australia, Andy … mmmm… Nah, So many locals go to Sziget that the tourists just blend in. Commuters coming in from Szentendre on the hév would be travelling in when the revellers are still in bed. And out when they’re already at the gigs. Was in Myrtle Beach at a conference one year during Spring Break – that was some experience. I’ll be away for both those zoo dates (Bulgaria and then Transylvania) but will be catching them again in Kobuci Kert in Sept. Hey – you might also like The Lost Brothers… check them out. Great Irish duo I was introduced to today.

    2. From what I have read and been told, the event has have some negative consequences for some near the festival regarding noise. The former mayor of the 4th district sued the festival organizers at one point because he said it was so loud, so late at night, that local residents could not sleep. Not everyone, for example, wants to hear Iron Maiden late at night. I assume there had to be quite a few complaint to his office to take such a step. And fiscal resources of many, particularly the older age groups, do not allow them to take extended excursions away from the area for the festival period. They are just stuck there. For what it is worth, the mayor did not win his case. I suspect because 120 decibels are the legal limit in Hungary for such events, which is actually very loud (120 decibels is classified as “deafening”) and there is no time limit (i.e. can be at 2 AM in the morning).

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: