For us here at Trevose, there is nothing more rewarding than welcoming repeat guests back to our house. We appreciate that where we are located, in such a beautiful seaside town, means there are plentiful accommodation choices. Subsequently, when a familiar face choses to revisit us, we are not only flattered and excited to welcome them back, it resonates that the experience we set out to deliver is somewhat achieving, making it that little bit more worthwhile!
One special individual who shares the same fondness and enchantment for the town as we so do, is our long-standing repeat guest Stephen. Stephen, a retired architect whose profession saw him travel all over the world particularly the Middle East, settled in Bloomsbury London in 1971, but having loving ties to St Ives regularly makes the 300 mile journey down South.
This week marked Stephens third time staying at Trevose Harbour House this year, but as he recalls it, his ’thirteenth’ time staying with us since we began.
It is not only Stephens consciousness, love of food and openness to converse with anybody he may be sitting next to at the breakfast table that we adore. What is so magical about every time we have the pleasure of welcoming Stephen back to our house, is the light in his eyes that illuminates as soon as he steps through the front door. Stephen you see, is fortunate enough to experience what we here at Trevose experienced whilst relocating down to St Ives, the magic and charm of the town.
Stephens journey to St Ives concluded in the early hours of Thursday morning via the Paddington- St Erth Great Western Sleeper Service. We were fortunate enough, over an afternoon brew of warm goats milk, to hear a first hand account of his arrival and first day back explorations. Written in his very own words, we wanted to use this opportunity to share this unique extract of Stephens’ magical narrative, and thank him for always bringing charisma, integrity and imaginativeness to the house upon every visit.
St Ia - An open letter on a day in the life: Idle ideas in this mid-season of mellow fruitfulness.
Red eye shuttle: Chocolat chaud served by cherpy barista Monsieur Neil from his iconic mid-60s InterCity bistro. Original and genuinely stained Kenneth Grange dining car furnishing - nice.
An interesting wash basin where the prospect of doing anything more exciting than brushing your teeth is a bit of a challenge.
Nous sommes arrivé. Sun rising above a silhouetted pile of distressed tyres at St Erth. Change set and the sun escapes again through another crack in the cloud over the glistening, post-tidal pools of Lelant saltings. Change set yet again and it is hanging low and misty yellow illuminating a patchwork of Celtic fields stacking up the hill behind Porthkidney dunes.
Celebrate the beginning of the day with breakfast chatter over a too good to be true pain perdu.
Mount Zion can’t be bothered with elevenses this morning. Mocha at the other Caf with a heavily therapeutic view of Porthmeor beach. Promenade: high surf; low music. Even lower skill set amongst amateur floaters.
Up the hill, bleary eyed and ragged tailed. A rather nice fish pie for lunch followed by the inevitable pile of zs on the deck. The ever-present prospect of reality. Pooped.
Escape: hot, frothy goat and Oliviero’s banana cake animated by excitable, frothy conversation. Tell me an amazing story and wonder… and wonder again. I like that story.
Rapid-fire sunset chased by a neatly dissected half slice of sparkling white moon floating provocatively over the harbour. Halloween pumpkins and silver haired witches flirting here and there… and everywhere. The gods are angry.
Porthminster Caf: excessive, singular grey hair density tonight with an over display of sensible M&S frocks and crumpled corduroy. Boring. Think food.
Something very decadent and appealing in the form of the caviar-clad egg, sculpturally embedded in the haddock and clam chowder. To wonder at the spirit of the immediacy of its creation: too beautiful to eat yet too destructive the pleasure of its consummation.
Then to wonder again at how exciting can be the pleasures of the flesh. Naked cauliflower as it might never have been imagined: saffron pickled, baked and puréed with an over-excited dribble of pesto. Visually another delight.
Chocolat chaud is far superior to dessert: au naturel, sans crème.
Over indulged and satiated.