Wednesday 12 April
Today my people left me to doze in The Cove, while they took my little sister ashore to explore these islands I’m lying between. They landed at low water onto a rocky and weedy foreshore, and struggled to carry her high up the beach to a safe point above the high water mark, where she could be secured to a sturdy boulder.
First they crossed the sandbar to walk a full circuit of Gugh, from whose summit could be seen almost the whole archipelago. 
The coconut-fragranced gorse was enhanced by acres of wild daffodils and narcissi, white- and bluebells, violets and a single wild gladiolus, while birdsong filled the air.
Crossing back towards St Agnes to seek lunch, they were too late at the Turk’s Head at the quay, so enjoyed the local brew soaked up by some crisps, before following the unwaymarked track, pausing at the tiny church to admire
the unusual windows, and finding themselves at Troytown farm, where Scilly cows provide creamy Jersey-style milk for the dairy fairies to turn into delicious butter, yogurts and ice cream.
There is a campsite including a fishing net hammock, and nearby a stone circle maze laid by an ancient lighthouse keeper. The Post Office offered a comprehensive range of fresh provisions, groceries, fruit and vegetables, 
and they retraced their steps past the piglets to find l’arrêt now conveniently near the waterline, for an easy return to me to rest weary legs.