On a sunny saturday (which happens to be a rarity in this part of the world) we happened to be in a small seaside village named Mousehole.
Coincidentally the time was mid-afternoon I think, and tea had become a high priority. As we were idly loitering on the cobblestone paths of the village, looking for some refreshment - I spotted a wayside tea room. It kind of appeared on our path, as if we were destined to step in. Inside it was traditionally laid, and outside there was a perfect setting of white painted furniture to enjoy the Atlantic breeze. We decided to go al fresco and then ordered cream tea.
What appeared on our table was a treat I had been waiting for, it seems, since eternity - my steps may have naturally followed the seagull into the tearoom. I can still smell the freshly baked scones, laden with strawberry jam and Cornish clotted cream. The bright aroma of steaming earl grey was a perfect accompaniment on this bright summer day. We had our fill, and I had the afternoon tea experience of a lifetime.
Afterwards, we walked to the seaside and stood there for a few long minutes in silence. This was it. Life seemed almost perfect. If only it had a pause button....