After working on my poetry manuscript in the morning, Mum and I met for breakfast and then went for another walk. Walked up the water lanes to the wishing pool and made a couple of wishes, and then we walked from Jerbourg down to St Martin's point and then along the cliffpath to Fermain bay, where we had lunch, amid interested ducks. Then up the Fermain valley, which is steep and Mum reminded me that my Grandmother always used to walk backwards up hills. We tried this for a bit, which later resulted in oddly achey shins.
In the evening off in a cab to go to the Princess Royal Arts Centre to attend an evening to celebrate National Poetry Day. There is now an active poetry group on the island, called Poets in Motion and, in something of a dream come true, I got to read a couple of my Guernsey poems to an interested local audience. I met several local poets and heard some really good work. One poem that stayed with me was a poem by Maurice Sangan about the end of the second world war. He had been evacuated from the island as a child, and lived in the north of England. He felt anxious and sad coming home to the Island at the end of the war. Made me think of a definition of poetry I heard years ago, and I don't know where it comes from: the precise expression of mixed feelings.
Interesting stuff. Had friendly chats with them afterwards - along with another stranger like myself, a Nigerian called Chuma whose poetry was excellent. A pleasant painter gave me a lift back to the hotel. Met mum in the hotel bar for a quick drink, and felt very cheery and bouyed by the evening.
Below a picture postcard lane in St Martin's, St Martin's Point where I once caught an excellent rockfish (aka wrasse) as a lad, and what is called the Pine Forest on the east coast (in truth no more than a small wood).
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