Diary of a St Ivean

On the way on Saturday to catch the train to Truro, I count six houses in the Warren with The Phone Book still on doorsteps.

On the train to St Erth a visitor raves to his companion about what he can see from the train window and how he must return in the summer to swim there - pointing to the beach at Lelant where swimming is in fact forbidden. But he is overwhelmed by the beauty of the coastline as are all visitors who travel the line.

In Truro I want a power adapter for my iPod touch so I visit a mobile 'phone shop. As I enter a besuited young lady shop assistant asks if I need help and when I tell her No then asks if I'm browsing. So I relent and tell her what I want and she says Oh, iPhone accessories, but too late because I'm already heading for that display. There I immediately spot the item I'm looking for but the young lady shop assistant says No, that's for plugging into the computer. When I demur, she says let's open the box then, but because the shop doesn't have a pair of scissors she has to break into the package with a small pair of pliers. I see that of course it is the adapter I need but wonder aloud what the cable is for (it's a spare ). The young lady shop assistant doesn't that either. I make the purchase.

On the way to the train station I'm thinking that if there's any commission to be made from the sale, it should go to me who made it possible and not to the young lady shop assistant who almost prevented it.

On the last occasion I visited a mobile 'phone shop, I managed to persuade the shop assistant who was supposed to sell me an iPhone to abandon his plans to buy one for himself.