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I am so excited for the spa day.
Candles lit.
Music on.
Hot tub warm and ready.
And then my chronic hives come back.
Again, in the middle of my spa day.
What a wet blanket.
Looks like another spell of itchy red skin.
If you have chronic spontaneous urticaria or CSU, there is a different treatment option.
Hives during my next spa day?
Not if I can help it.
Learn more at treatmyhives.com.
Welcome to Get Sleepy, where we listen, we relax, and we get sleepy.
My name's Thomas and I'm your host.
Thank you so much for being here.
Your company means everything to us.
We know how important good sleep is in making everyday life that much easier and better, and we are honored to be a resource for you to achieve that.
Every one of us on the Get Sleepy team loves what we do, and the absolute best thing about it is knowing that we are making a positive difference in the world.
So thank you my friends for being on that journey with us.
A well-rested world is a better world, and we're all collectively creating that together.
And please do remember, there's nothing more meaningful than a word-of-mouth recommendation.
So if you have friends, family or anyone else that you think would benefit from listening to the show, please do send them a link to discover us.
Maybe to this episode, or pick out one of your favorites.
That way, we can keep spreading the gift of good rest far and wide.
Now in tonight's story we'll be following Avery as he visits an enchanted apothecary in the beautiful village of Polpero, a hidden treasure of the Cornish coast in the southwest of England.
The area is well known for stunning, seemingly Mediterranean beaches, with sweeping white sand bays, lush countryside, surfing and a host of culinary delights to appeal to many a traveler's appetite.
The story was written by Chloe, who you'll know as one of our regular narrators on the show, which means she'll be reading it too, of course.
Before we begin, let's spend some time winding down and relaxing.
Make sure you're nice and comfy, wrapped up in your covers.
And when you're ready, close your eyes and bring your attention to your body.
Feel the wave-like motion of the breath coming in and flowing out from your chest and stomach, just like the waves on each and every shoreline of the oceans and seas of the world move in this rhythmic, eternal pattern in and out.
We, too, live and thrive on our own eternal rhythm, our breathing, in and out.
It's such an easy and reliable source of comfort simply pausing and centering our focus on the breath, intentionally breathing all the way in.
Then softly, gently releasing all of that air and any tension that flows away with it.
Continue to enjoy that slow natural rhythm that brings you both vitality and comfort.
And as you gradually feel, peaceful bliss wash over you in sumptuous waves, we can head to the Cornish coast, where the ocean waters match this soothing pattern.
This is where our story begins.
Avery savors the place between sleep and wakefulness, swathed in dreamy, delicious comfort.
Upon awakening, he is aware, but does not yet open his eyes.
He can sense the brightness of the golden morning light. cast across the bed in a band of warmth.
The bed is large and downy.
Wiggling his toes and enjoying the pleasing smoothness of the freshly laundered cotton linen Avery stretches out.
He remembers that he's on holiday, nothing requires his attention.
The weekend lay spread invitingly before him to be spent at leisure, with no need to rush.
The weekend is empty of obligations and full of possibilities.
A pleasant sea salt tang drifts into the little cottage guest bedroom from the window.
Open just a crack.
Avery feels refreshed by the coolness of the gentle breeze dancing lightly across his face.
The air carries the distant cry of seagulls and the banter of fishermen busily mending their nets and going about their business.
Avery opens his eyes to see pale yellow curtains backlit with the diffused morning sun stirring in the sea air, enticing him to greet the day.
He is well rested, having had a perfect night's sleep.
Now it's time to get ready to explore his surroundings.
It feels good to have the freedom of choosing how he will spend this day.
He thinks he'll start by joining his host for a cup of tea.
Avery had arrived the night before, in the half-light of a balmy summer evening.
During a long drive from London, he left his cares and worries behind him, arriving at his holiday cottage for the weekend on the edge of the village at the top of the hill.
After the buzz of the motorway, the roads had quietened into a world of single-track lanes flanked by tall brambly hedgerows.
It felt good to leave the faster pace and obligations behind and move forward into the countryside where simpler pleasures and expectations could be easily met and enjoyed.
Avery loved folklore and was seeking adventure.
A spark had been missing from his life lately.
So the stories he had heard of a magical mermaid apothecary in Pulpero intrigued him.
He wanted to find out if the stories were true.
The winding road had risen steadily to the horizon, beckoning him on until he had reached the coast, where rolling green fields swept down in a patchwork to the cliffs and the cool, clear aquamarine sea beyond.
Lush farmland opened to an expanse of blue skies.
The fields were cut across with yellow ribbons of track, which were being traversed by a tiny red tractor.
It looked like a child's toy and was pursued relentlessly by a flock of determined crows.
Reaching the headland.
The baked tarmac road had swept round and down into cooler wooded valleys, through leafy green tunnels of oaks and beech trees, where the warm golden evening sun painted the shady road before him in dappled dancing light.
He had driven on, the road leaving him higher once again, and the sun had lost its heat.
It lay along the edge of the horizon and, done for the day, had finally dipped out of sight as the sea fog rolled in to blanket the land.
The golden twilight had darkened under a silvery blue shroud as Avery approached his journey's end.
Avery was finally welcomed by softly lit windows in the half-light, glowing under the beetling brow of a thatched roof.
His host, a kindly lady named Mrs. Nancarrow, appeared, flanked by a small terrier.
Mrs. Nancarrow had run him a hot, fragrant salt bath.
Afterwards, she served him a freshly baked, peppery Cornish pasty for supper.
Avery had been hungry and the meal had been so satisfying that he finds he is still pleasantly full this morning.
Now he decides that after his cup of breakfast tea, he will venture out to explore the delights of Pulpero.
He is sitting at the scrubbed wooden kitchen table with Mrs Nancarrow, who tells him more about this beautiful place that she's so proud to have lived in all her life.
She comes from a long line of fishermen and holds the local culture in her heart, part and parcel of who she is.
Her pleasant dark eyes twinkle as she speaks and her round, sun-browned face, etched like clay with laughter lines, is open and warm.
The small russet terrier is less suspicious and more curious now.
Mrs Nancarrow introduces him as Rumor or Mr Rumor, for when he is being less well-behaved and needing reminding that he is a gentleman.
Mr. Rumour soon accepts Avery, sensing that he's a good person.
The terrier leans against him and warms his side with his soft, gentle weight.
Mr Rumor is also hopeful that there may be a little second breakfast for him to snaffle, should the opportunity arise.
But realizing that no breakfast is required for the new guest this morning, he resigns himself to the quiet comfort of Avery's company.
Whilst the dog settles in next to Avery on the large kitchen chair, Mrs Nancarrow speaks animatedly in a soft Cornish burr.
He listens to her speak in her local dialect, unfamiliar but lovely words she uses to describe the people that have lived here before.
She tells of strange goings-on hidden passages, secret rooms and mysterious lights twinkling in the dead of night.
She speaks of piskies, of brownies and mermaids that lived amongst them in the fairy tales of times gone by, of selkies and beings who appeared and disappeared with the ever-changing tide and the ever-changing light.
Avery asks Mrs. Nancarrow about the mythical mermaid apothecary.
She tells him with a flicker of a smile that she's sure she's never seen it herself, as the shop only appears to those who have need of its magic.
Avery feels lucky to have found Pulpero.
With its intriguing history of smugglers and wreckers flotsam, jetsam and contraband, Avery indulges his imagination in conjuring up the possibility of discovering long-forgotten hordes of hidden treasure and feels a tingle of excitement.
Mrs Nancarrow tells him how he can find his way to the local smuggling museum and even to the nearby sandy Lancelot's Cove, just three miles on foot along the coastal path from Pulparo.
Avery is intrigued and wants to know more.
And so Mrs Nancaro explains that Lancelot is a tiny hamlet with just a handful of houses and a little church.
Avery thinks that somewhere so far removed from the hustle and bustle of the modern world would be a perfect place to spend the afternoon.
He makes note of the directions to the cove and puts the note in his pocket.
From the little church, she tells him, A track leads down the hill, through a beautifully wooded valley, to the cove.
The beach there is remote, she says.
You can still see and feel a trace of their presence.
Mrs Nancarrow describes that as you reach the coast following a path edged with seagrasses and a small tumbling brook, something unexpected happens.
The little stony track that leads down to the cove becomes Sandia, taking you straight through the middle of a huge slate rock.
This gateway opens to the soft sand curve of the bay, a promise of tranquility lapped by crystalline emerald waters.
The sea merges here into a sparkling eddy of inviting turquoise.
But where it is studded with rocks, the seeming calm breaks into mighty white surges.
A reminder of the sometimes hidden power harnessed beyond the shelter of the bay.
The craggy headland rises here from the sea in a protective and foreboding formation and is topped with lush greenery and the rolling hillside beyond.
The passageway hewn through the slate would have given easy and secluded access for people unloading extravagant luxurious goods such as French lace and brandy.
Ruts in the ground still visible to this day are like stories carved in time by smugglers' wagons, she says.
One lucky mine owner unearthed a large quantity of contraband by accident in 1825.
A local gang of smugglers might have thrown their bounty overboard to avoid being discovered.
Avery makes a silent wish that some of the luck of this magical place will favor him too.
Mrs. Nancaro chuckles and tells him that he might be lucky enough to spot the local mermaid.
She was said to have long, wavy, bright red hair, and if she liked you, she might grant you a wish.
Avery laughs, but is secretly enthralled by his host's stories.
She also gives him directions to see other local places of interest in Pulpero, such as the famously decorated Shell House.
Best of all, Mrs Nancarrow recommends cafes where he can indulge in a traditional Cornish cream tea.
This comprises fluffy scones, sweet, sharp raspberry jam, and rich, yellow-topped clotted cream.
Feeling prepared for his outing, Avery shifts easily from his seat and Mr Rumor wakes with a mustachioed yawn, interested to see what's going on.
Avery says goodbye to Mrs. Nancarrow.
But Mr. Rumour decides to trot along for the adventure.
Of course, the little dog is a welcome companion.
And so Avery takes his lead in his pocket for when it's needed, and sets off down the steep cobblestone lane into the brightness of the morning.
Avery breathes in the sea air as its freshness greets him, cooling his face pleasantly and filling him with renewed exuberance.
The distant cry of chattering gulls is somehow familiar and nostalgic.
The sound is reminiscent of Avery's happy childhood holidays by the sea.
The distant playful bark of a neighborhood dog carries from somewhere on the other side of the peaceful harbor.
It echoes across the stillness of the little cove.
And Mr. Rumor replies with a half-hearted gruff just to let the other dog know he's there.
Avery follows the path of the narrow cobbled streets.
They wind together.
Silvery gray between huddles of whitewashed stone cottages nestled in the cliffside.
Rising to stands of pine trees, feathery and fanning against the clear blue of a pristine summer sky.
Most of the cottages are roofed in the local dark slate.
Cobalt blue window frames contrast with terracotta pots, bright with red geraniums.
Pink hot poker flowers rise from well-tended cottage gardens where clean white sheets billow on washing lines.
As he turns a bend, he's surprised to see palm trees that thrive here in the gulf stream fluttering in the steady breeze.
Traditional stone walls topped with bright clusters of cornish daisies flank the path either side of Avery, guiding his way with cheerful certainty.
He has never been here before, And yet, in his heart, he feels at home and at peace.
For the first time in a long while, Avery feels a sense of authenticity that has been lacking in his life.
Friendly locals nod and smile in greeting, and Avery feels welcome.
As well as being a place steeped in smuggling history and fisherman's tales, the harbour village of Pulpero has a rich, modern cultural scene to enjoy too.
Avery soon learns that locals here love to host social events such as a music festival and a water carnival.
Paul Pero also boasts one of the best firework displays in Cornwall.
All good reasons to return later in the year.
The architecture surrounding countryside and protected harbor breathe whispers of their storied pasts.
There is an otherworldliness here, Avery thinks.
It's an idyllic setting for this late morning walk.
Avery feels as though he has stepped into a painting.
The light here has a unique quality and he is inspired like the many artists, authors and poets over the centuries who have visited and lived in Cornwall.
Fish and chip shops scattered throughout the village offer the opportunity to sample the local fresh seafood which Avery plans to do later.
He enjoys watching the gulls wheeling over the sea further out in the bay as one of the boats returns with its catch.
This unassuming little fishing village has a timeless quality and nothing else seems to matter for now.
Avery feels a wholesomeness in this sense of being. fully present.
Time passes effortlessly in the warmth of the afternoon and after strolling and exploring many of the places of interest that Mrs Nancarrow told him about, Avery has worked up quite an appetite with all this fresh air.
He follows his nose and decides to sample the recommended fish and chips.
It takes a while to prepare, but is well worth the wait.
It's served piping hot and wrapped In brown paper.
It smells of salt and vinegar.
The chips, still sizzling, have a pleasing, crisp bite.
They break open to reveal steaming, soft, fluffy potato inside.
Avery smiles to himself taking in the view of the pretty harbor, the colorful bobbing boats and the gentle lapping of the water.
The sun is warm, and the breeze pleasantly cool.
He breaks through the perfectly crisp batter with the little wooden fork.
The tender white fish flakes easily apart, releasing a fresh, steaming aroma that's truly a feast for the senses.
The fresh air, the hot, satisfying food washed down with a crisp, cool drink, and the view of the scenic little harbor quietly buzzing have filled his heart, soul and stomach.
Mr Roomer, who is always hungry despite being well-fed, will have to wait a little longer for his usual mealtime back at the cottage.
After finishing the meal, Avery decides it's time to continue their walk.
He clips Mr. Rumor's lead on and they head off.
Before long, Mr. Rumor begins to pull at his lead.
He seems intent on something up ahead.
They turn a corner and come across a hidden row of ordinary, neat, modest cottages.
The little dog pulls on, but Avery cannot understand why.
There doesn't seem to be anything of particular interest here.
Suddenly, Mr. Rumour stops, his little moustache quivering and his tail on point.
He makes a muffled, inquisitive little gruff before straining on the lead once more.
A cunning wind blows in from the sea.
Strong enough to take Avery by surprise.
The sudden gust sends an empty plant pot clattering across the cobblestones and billows his loose shirt.
He closes his eyes for a moment.
And when he opens them again, he sees that the row of cottages has parted to reveal a long, winding alleyway paved with cobblestones.
The walls reach up as high as he can see and are cast in shadow.
But the afternoon sun throws shafts of light into the depths of the alley.
It illuminates walls of brilliant purple amethyst that glint enticingly.
Avery rubs his eyes with his free hand, not quite believing the abrupt change in the scene in front of him.
Avery hears a gentle creaking sound and looks up to see an antiquated wrought iron sign swinging in the breeze just overhead.
The wind drops and the sign grows still.
It is painted a dark green with curling gold lettering outlined in black.
It bears the words The Mermaid Apothecary with an arrow pointing down the alleyway.
Mr. Rumor echoes Avery's surprise with a short bark.
Avery can't believe his eyes, but curiosity has got the better of Mr. Rumor.
He barks again, pulling on his lead.
The walls of the alleyway, on one side of them, shimmer, opening to reveal a quiet country lane.
In it stands the most curious little shop, whimsical and neat, with a shining curved window of dimpled irregular panes of glass.
Through the window.
Gleaming bottles and jars stand in orderly displays on dark wooden shelves, each container holding various tinctures and herbs.
The door of the shop is painted dark green with a large leaded glass panel.
The stained glass depicts a mermaid sitting confidently upright upon a rock, with curling waves forming around her in slices of green and blue.
Her hair, red and wild, flows in the direction of the wind.
Behind her, the glass is pieced together to form a fiery sunburst with rolling stylized clouds edging the horizon.
The craftsmanship is exquisite and the window seems to Avery to be almost enchanted.
He could have sworn that the sea was moving in the stained glass.
To both Avery and Mr.
Rumor's surprise, the door swings open with a creak and they hear the jingle of a shop bell.
At first, Avery hesitates.
But Mr. Rumour happily pulls on his lead.
The pair walk up to the doorway and peer into the shop, which is dimly lit by the pale late afternoon sun.
The bottles and jars have been carefully polished and tidily arranged in rows upon shelves throughout the entire shop.
They softly gleam where the light touches them.
As Avery's eyes become used to the dim light, he can see that...
Many curios and beautiful leather-bound books also line the shelves.
The walls are papered in subtly stylized designs of leaves, vines, and flowers.
They are hung about with exquisite sketches and watercolors of botanical studies, each with a small brown price tag.
A smoky sweet, heady smell of frankincense fills the air, along with the rich earthiness of dried hops Avery sees hanging from a beam overhead.
In the center of the apothecary, a large old-fashioned glass cabinet stretches elegantly before them.
Antiques and items of unknown use or origin, glint beneath its curved top.
Towards the back of the shop, Avery sees a polished wooden countertop with little labeled drawers beneath.
Various instruments measuring spoons scissors, weighing scales and wrapping paper lay in readiness for the next customer.
Beside this area, a large fringed tapestry curtain heavily embroidered in muted colors hangs as though it's guarding a secret.
Avery, overtaken by curiosity, Takes a breath and steps into the shop alongside Mr. Rumor.
The shop feels calm and peaceful.
Like a sacred space capable of healing.
A black cat saunters in a little snootily.
Mr Rumour barks a greeting in its direction and the cat, sleek and very pleased with its own stealth, jumps expertly up onto a shelf, out of reach of the eager little dog.
Mr. Roomer, excited to see the cat, inadvertently knocks over some displayed items.
Just then, the curtain pulls back in a blaze of bright daylight, pouring in from a room beyond.
And there, framed in the opening, is the silhouetted form of a young lady.
She admonishes the cat, whom she calls Nicodemus, gently reminding him that they must make their customers feel at home.
She then welcomes Avery and Mr. Rumor to her shop, and introduces herself as Ember.
She is tall and willowy, with large glasses that frame elfin features dotted with freckles, and she wears a plum-colored headscarf.
Her hair is bright red and looped into a messy bun on top of her head.
Avery recalls Mrs Nancarrow's words about the red-haired mermaid and, of course, the signage of the apothecary.
He takes a surreptitious glance at her legs, but there is no sign of any fishtail.
She wears denim dungarees and casual pumps.
Avery apologizes for Mr. Rumor's clumsiness and offers to help clean up the display.
But Ember shakes her head, saying not to worry.
The cat and dog eye each other and agree to coexist in peace.
Ember calls Nicodemus and he jumps to her shoulder, remaining perched there regally whilst she gives the visitors a tour of the apothecary, starting with the sun-drenched room.
As well as herbal preparations and remedies, Ember says she also sells plants and flowers that she's cultivated in the orangery behind the shop.
The orangery is well-placed to receive every bit of sunlight, so Ember can grow all kinds of exotic plants that thrive in the warmth.
Her green eyes shine as she proudly shows them her botanical collection.
Trailing bougainvillea, luxuriant banana trees, and palms, ferns, and orchids.
Oranges lemons, Vanilla and cocoa beans fill the air with a fragrance that transports Avery to far-flung places.
With this room being so full of light, Avery wonders why it's kept so much darker in the main part of the apothecary and jests that Ember may have secrets.
She twinkles almost imperceptibly, adding that perhaps she does.
She explains that the curtain is to shut out the sun from the front of the shop.
The darker room protects the contents of the bottles from spoiling.
The precious herbs, essential oils, tinctures and preparations could be damaged or lose their potency if left exposed to the light.
As the tour of the shop comes to a close, Ember suggests that perhaps there is something from her apothecary that she can prepare for Avery.
If only he could bottle the feeling of tranquility that he's experienced today and take it back with him to his everyday life.
He tells her.
Ember has just the thing and asks Avery to give her a moment to prepare it.
She takes a small vial and turns her back whilst she fills it with herbs that she grinds with her mortar and pestle.
She utters some hushed words and, taking a pinch of sand from a jar, blows it from her hand over the vial.
She adds a couple of other items a tiny shell and a piece of dried seaweed and seals the vial with a small cork.
She wraps the whole thing in brown paper.
Ember tells him to open it and breathe in its fragrance whenever he feels the need to remember his time here.
To think of it as a bottled memory that sets him free.
She looks deeply into his eyes and he is quite transfixed.
He laughs shyly and puts it in his pocket.
As he does so, he finds the little note with the directions for Lancelot's Cove given to him this morning by Mrs Nancarrow.
He shows it to Ember, who says she is headed that way home.
Together, they lock up the shop And say goodnight to Nicodemus.
The late afternoon is lovely.
Their shadows grow long and tall.
The third little shadow of Mr. Rumour trotting happily beside them as the evening draws in.
They walk for a while in companionable silence, just listening to the sea and everything that was.
As they reach Lancelot's Cove, Avery unclips Mr. Rumor's lead.
The little dog bounds towards the waves and runs and scampers on the sand.
Ember says that her home is just around the next bay.
She'll leave him here if he knows the way back to Mrs. Nan Caro's place.
Avery thanks Ember.
But before he says goodbye, he turns to call Mr. Rumor from the water.
The little dog runs back and Avery stoops to clip the lead on his collar.
As he kneels, he spots something glinting in the sand. a gold coin.
Antique.
Avery is incredulous.
Could this really be smuggled treasure?
He picks it up and slips it into his pocket.
As he stands to say goodbye to Ember, he finds that the cove is empty, apart from him and the little dog.
He skims the horizon.
The sun touches the sea now.
The water is slate gray.
And the sky is turning from lilac to a fiery orange.
Everything it touches is lit with a golden glow.
The light glints on the waves, breaking against the dark, jutting rocks.
Further out, on one of those rocks, Avery almost thinks he sees the form of a woman sat upright, dignified and gazing out to sea.
Long, bright red hair streaming behind her.
He rubs his eyes, and she is gone.
There is no one there.
A chill cuts through the air now rolling in from the sea and Avery thinks of Mrs Nancarrow's warm and cozy cottage.
Turning, he gives the lead a gentle pull.
But Mr. Rumor hesitates.
Avery coaxes him.
Come on, Mr. Rumor.
We've had quite the adventure.
Time to get you home.
I think we'll both sleep well tonight.
Avery starts the walk back across the darkening sands towards the village.
But had he turned around at that point, he would have seen what Mr. Rumour had spotted.
A very large, silvery fishtail diving beneath rolling waves.
Thank you.
Oh, my God.
Thank you for watching.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
