I’m not good with routines. I tend to seek novelty.
But my parents, with whom Carenza and I are staying are quite the reverse.
Today was to be dedicated to them and what they wanted to do, so the only question I had to ask was,
“Remind me, what time does Trelissick open?”
We have worn a groove around the paths of this NT garden and have admired it at every time of year.
I would like to say I know every inch of it, but my parents have a particular, unvarying route they prefer, so acres remain unexplored.
Although some things have changed – Mum can no longer manage the long flight of steps so we no longer see the penny tree – a dead trunk into which my children would slot coins.
But the high point of our walk remains an old hut with pine cones decorating its interior and a breath-taking view of the estuary. I can’t remember the first time I came here, but an old photo proves I once breast-fed Carenza here. I send the boys a Whatsapp photo of us here again. No caption – all of them will know exactly where we are.
On the floor hops the robin, as ever, hoping for crumbs. What is amazing is that down the generations of robins, no ancestral memory has developed that the Hobbas always intend to bring bird food, but always forget!