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'I'm sure nobody will miss them,' he said. 'They've probably been here for years. Or
maybe that's where the manager keeps his trainers.'
'I thought you were the manager?' I asked.
'Noooo,'saidDave.'IjustworkatthebarnextdoorandI'mcoveringwhilehe'spopped
out. I would disappear if I were you before he gets back.'
We tried to leave the rigger boots with him, but he thought it was a bad idea for us to
leaveanyevidencethatwehadbeenthere.Wejumpedbackontoourbikeandscooter,with
proper footwear on our feet, the rigger boots on our handlebars, and freewheeled down the
last few hundred metres to the sea.
St Ives was once a thriving fishing village, but following a decline it rebuilt itself as a
holidaydestination andartcentre. Thankslargelytoformerartist residents suchasBarbara
Hepworth and Russian sculptor Naum Gabo (No? Me neither), the town is now considered
an important centre for art. With the exception of Liverpool, it is the only place outside of
London to have a branch of The Tate.
StIvesisaprettylittletown.WewerethereonasunnySundayandtheplacewascrawl-
ing with tourists. It has its fair share of tat, but it has still managed to maintain its charm.
For a small seaside town however, the sea was very difficult to find. We spent a while
trapped in the maze of tiny back streets before eventually finding it. It was the big wet bit
by the harbour.
We stopped by a patch of sand by the water. I say 'patch of sand', rather than 'beach',
as it was a patch of sand, rather than a beach. The fog had completely cleared and it was a
beautiful day. We sat back against the harbour wall and bit into our Cornish pasties. They
were immense. The seagulls swooped and dive-bombed us from above, trying to sample
our lunch, but we skilfully defended our provisions with deadly backhands.
Ben propped the rigger boots against one of the large bins along the waterfront. They
were in prime position for a passer-by to see, and failing that, the bin man might have been
tempted by a change of footwear.
There was a 'SPEEDBOAT HIRE' sign by the harbour. Up to this point, we had only
asked for things we NEEDED for our journey; clothes, food, bikes… beer. But there we
were, basking in the sun, without a care in the world. We had been fed, watered and were
fairly well clothed. It was time for some fun.
'Hi there,' said Ben to the guy manning the speedboat stand. 'We're cycling to John
O'Groats without spending any money, and along the way we're hoping to experience
some of the excitements that Britain has to offer.'
Nice. I liked Ben's approach. He was basically telling this guy that by lending us a
speedboat, he would be doing his bit for good ol' Blighty.
'Sounds fun,' said the man, a little bemused and still unsure of what Ben wanted.
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