This is serious business. It might sound trivial, but David Cameron would agree with me (on this at least). Eating a scone is not just a matter of picking up a crumbly bun and cavalierly slathering on jam and cream. Oh, no, no, no! There is a method! A method based on . geography. Whaaa?

Don’t worry, in 99.999% of the world’s countries, nobody will care how you eat your scone. Phew! But, and this is crucial, pay close attention if you find yourself in Devon and/or Cornwall. This is what you do:

When in Cornwall, put the jam on first and then the cream (see above left). In Devon, the cream goes first and then the jam (see above right).

It might sound silly, but a Devonian and Cornish person will know just by looking at you (okay maybe not quite) which way you “butter your bread” (aka cream and jam your scone). There is a never-ending scone war about which way is better. Yes, I said scone war.

What a wonderful thing to argue about! I wish all wars in the world were only fought in jam and cream. What a peaceful, delicious place it would be.

Here’s one last parting shot of our delicious cream tea in Devon:

——

I’m currently writing about this whilst sitting in an Airbnb flat in Split, Croatia. Very far from scone wars country. Matt and I have officially left the UK as UK residents (sob!) and are on our way back to the states (yea!) in a little over a week. We just had to make sure to get some Croatian sun first before we moved from one rainy place to another.

Cath and I will no longer be ‘twins blogging an ocean apart’ but ‘twins blogging a country apart’ — that’s a bit closer, right?

It all started with an obsession for watching (rather than reading — oi!) Poirot. I find it soothing – a dapper man with slight OCD solving crimes with his little grey cells. I’ve only actually read one or two Agatha Christie novels, but I really do think that sometimes that books find you. And that’s what happened at Leakey’s (aka the most amazing bookstore in the world!). Agatha Christie’s autobiography fell into my lap.

I just finished reading it when we were down in Cornwall and Devon and guess who spent most of her life in Devon? My new friend, Agatha! Her childhood home in Torquay no longer exists, but one of her favourite houses still stands and is open as a museum. So welcome to beautiful Greenway!

The most amazing thing about this house museum, is that all the furniture and knick-knacks in it are the Christie’s. Agatha and her second husband Max would holiday here and her daughter Rosalind and her husband Anthony lived here until 2004 and 2005 respectively. And all was how they left it:

Here’s the cozy sitting room:

My favourite bit was getting to sit at Agatha’s Steinway! She loved, loved, loved music and really wanted to be a be a concert pianist and singer. She even composed a few waltzes before becoming one of the most prolific and widely read authors in the world:

Oh and her kitchen is dreamy:

Here’s a sneaky peak into her bedroom:

She loved her fur coats:

Though she didn’t actually write at Greenway, she did base one of her novels here. The murder in Dead Man’s Folly happens in the boathouse just by the river. Doesn’t look very sinister does it?

I love books and I love house museums, so this is pretty much the perfect place in the world to me. And I highly recommend Agatha’s autobiography even if you aren’t a Poirot fan. She’s a fantastic lady and invites you into her fascinating world is such a friendly way. Ms. Marple would totally approve.

1) Stay in a small fishing village. Might I recommend Mousehole?

2) Visit St. Michael’s Mount. It’s like Mont Saint-Michel smaller, Cornish cousin. If you aren’t familiar with either, they are both tidal islands with lovely castles perched on top.

3)Fresh Newlyn crab. Newlyn is another fishing town right next to Mousehole. And, yes, their crab is delicious! Growing up in Maryland, crabs were a staple in late summer. The Newlyn crab reminds me of a gentler tasting Maryland blue crab — igniting happy memories of summer spent in Ocean City.

4) Visit Trebah Gardens. Beautiful sub-tropical flora that takes you right down on to a beach. My favourite was the hydrangea field as it was in bloom whilst we were there. Oh and you can’t miss the Gunnera forest — a green-canopied Jurassic-looking haven.

5) Eat a Cornish pasty. Pronounced “pah-sties” (so it doesn’t quite sound like a nipple tassel) these little pockets of savoury pastry pie are the bees’ knees. The classic pasty has beef and potato in, but I prefer the vegetarian options. Rowe’s Bakery do the best — we stopped by the one in Penzance (“I am the very model of a modern major general!”) but there are others scattered around Cornwall.

6) Minack Theatre. This theatre is the most magical I’ve ever been to. Built right into the side of the Cornish cliffs, the backdrop to every play is crashing waves, sunsets and/or moody, broody skies. I highly recommend this, but just bring copious blankets (yes, even in the height of British summer) and a fresh pasty or two to keep your hands warm.

7) Smooch (or just stand in awe) at the edge of the world — aka Land’s End. Side step the strange amalgam of tourist attractions here and just wonder the hills and cliffs of Land’s End. You really do feel you are on the edge of the world.

Matt and I have traveled around Scotland quite a bit, but apart from a few places in northern England and London, we hardly ever venture south of the border into England. So for our last hurrah in the UK (we move back to the States in early September), I thought it only right that we give southern England its due — or at least the West Country.

We stayed in a wee fishing village at the tippy tip of Cornwall called Mousehole (pronounced Mao-sul) because . it’s called Mousehole! Charmed already! Also I read somewhere that Dylan Thomas proclaimed it “the loveliest village in England.” Double charmed!

And Mousehole totally lived up to its storybook name: flower pots on window sills, cobbled streets too narrow for cars, and wee fishing boats bobbing in the harbour. My favourite bit was our lovely bedroom in the tiny cottage we rented via Airbnb. The window looked across the village into the sea. Everyone morning we would open the window and let the fresh sea air sweep over us as we had breakfast in bed — pretty much my idea of heaven.