Polly Waterford is recovering from a toxic relationship. Unable to afford their flat, she has to move miles away from everyone, to a sleepy little seaside resort in Cornwall, where she lives alone above an abandoned shop. And so Polly takes out her frustrations on her favourite hobby: making bread. But what was previously a weekend diversion suddenly becomes far more important as she pours her emotions into kneading and pounding the dough, and each loaf becomes better and better. With nuts and seeds, olives and chorizo, with local honey (courtesy of local bee keeper, Huckle), and with reserves of determination and creativity Polly never knew she had, she bakes and bakes and bakes. . . And people start to hear about it. Sometimes, bread really is life. . . And Polly is about to reclaim hers.… (more)
I wish I was a fisherman/ Tumbling on the seas/ Far away from dry land/ And its bitter memories/ Casting out my sweet line/ With abandonment and love/ No ceiling bearing down on me/ 'Cept the starry sky above/ With light in my head/ You in my arms/ Woohoo! - The Waterboys, 'Fisherman's Blues'
Rise up rise up you fine young men/ The ship she sails in the morn/ Whether it's windy, whether it's cold, or whether there's a deadly storm - 'Sir Patrick Spens', c.14th century, traditional
Years later, when she was an old lady, and many miles away, Polly would find it hard to explain that that was how they had lived back then.