St. Ives

As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives.
Every wife had seven sacks,
and every sack had seven cats.
Every cat had seven kits,
Kits, cats, sacks, wives;
How many were going to St. Ives?

This poem made the little town of St. Ives-Cornwall famous. However, I traveled to the "other" St. Ives in Cambridgeshire to see where I began. Our house still stands on the corner of The Waits in the quaint little town of St. Ives some 30 years later. The local butcher shop has closed and a Waitrose has moved in near the library. The fish and chip shops were replaced by Thai restaurants and mum's favorite little bakery has been closed for years but they still hold street markets in the town square on a Saturday. The canal across from the house is still there (who would move that??) and mum, you are not going crazy; the wooden area is still there west of the house behind the St. Ives Parish via the Great Ouse River foot path (aka. the "canal"). The old church bells still toll on the hour and you can hear it whilst walking through the thicket. Sheep are grazing along the canal in pastures green. And the swans still attack humans when they think they may be harboring food, (while I am sure it is the not the same swan that my mum used to shoo away, I'm quite sure it's a direct descendant with it's own vendetta). The weather was unusually bright and sunny- no fog or rain on this trip much to my mother's dismay. Visited the Norris museum while I was in town. It's a tiny little place, but with much history at your finger tips. All and all it was a great little adventure to see where I started out in life. Cheers Mum and Da for sharing!