Over the weekend I baked, and when I say baked I mean I made more sugary, floury, eggy things than can be found in the bakery section of a small supermarket.
I made banana and walnut loaves, cookies, muffins and brownies. I made enough to feed the 16 girls that came round for tea 5 times over; and as I was cleaning my flat, setting out the muffins, and plumping up the sofa cushions I realised that I was genuinely excited about opening up my little flat to the masses, and playing the hostess. As I was pouring my 20th cup of tea and trying not to eat too many chocolate brownies it occurred to me how much I am going to love doing exactly that in St Ives.
After so much activity in the first 4 weeks of discovering Porthminster View, the last 4 weeks has been painful to say the least and, as regular readers of this blog will know, frustratingly uneventful. Consequently I was relieved to find that baking and hosting gave me more ‘job’ satisfaction than working as a strategy consultant for a web design agency ever had; it reinforced my belief that I am doing the absolute right thing for me, right now.
Throwing this little tea party, inviting people into my home, and then doing everything I could to make sure they enjoyed themselves when they got there was one of the best things I’ve done in a long time. Now I know working full time in a guesthouse won’t be all baking cakes, cooking breakfast, and chatting to friendly guests; and I also know not all the guests will be as friendly as I would hope them to be. However, it’s a darn sight more similar than writing a strategy document for a big international airline to help them make even more money than they’re making already; and it’s a thousand times more relevant than sitting in an office, overlooking a Soho back alley, listening to awful music and staring at a computer screen.
I’ve had thank you emails and lovely comments from everyone who came yesterday afternoon, and I have been equally gushing in return. Even Monday doesn’t seem so bad because I’m still basking in the glow of Sunday, and I get to go home to a flat which is filled with the smell of baking and sunflowers.
I don’t have a single, solitary doubt about Danny and I making wonderful hosts; and this weekend has made me even more determined (if that’s possible) to not let a little thing, like lenders not giving us a mortgage, get in our way.
St Ives here we come!
Journey to Cornwall 