Feet in the sea
Lorraine like a happy kid on the cliffs, photographing wild flowers and looking appreciatively at uncurling fern fronds and blackthorn flowers and such like.
We walked down to Moulin Huet bay. Lorraine insisting on taking her boots off, so I followed suit and paddled in the sea. Quite astonishingly cold – a raw burning kind of freeze. But it was amazingly invigorating. Lorraine found herself a rock to sit on, surrounded by rock pools and zoned out listening to the sea. I found myself another stone and meditated for ten minutes or so, my bare feet on the sand, and the waves and gulls filling me, and the sun warming my face.
We were the only people on the beach and it was good to be there. When I used to meditate regularly, I often envisaged myself sitting in Moulin Huet, so it was very good to actually sit there and do it in reality.
Off and on in the last few days I have had a mental spring clean. I discover that lots of the decisions I've taken lately are coming from the fearful, apprehensive side of my nature. My plan of action is clear now, and it is to return to the positive and finish the Skelton Yawngrave book over the next month or so. Now I am clear about what I am doing, I suddenly feel much lighter and more optimistic. Guernsey has worked its magic yet again.
In the evening went into St Peter Port and wound up having a curry at a restaurant called Sitar. An air of stifled frenzy about the staff, and while we waited for food Lorraine we observed the lilac walls, and orange and lime green drapes, and gold columns and exposed brick walls, and exposed granite walls, and purple candle holders ascending the stairs. Everything was fighting, which added to the air of exhaustion. The food, when it arrived, was average. But a curry on a Friday night is inevitably a cracking idea.
Taxi home, and talking to the driver about the Muratti Vase cup, which is the inter-island football cup, which, except for in 1920 when Alderney memorably won, is inevitably played out between Guernsey and Jersey. There is usually an atmosphere of some animosity, with taunts of Crapaud and Donkey being swapped. Random fact: Alderney's worst defeat came in 1994 when they were beaten 18-0 by Jersey in the semi final.
Below feet in the sea, Lorraine on the cliffs,a view from Icart Point, a cliff head,a butterfly and the cliff path goes through some blackthorn - imagine all the sloes at the end of the year.
Lorraine like a happy kid on the cliffs, photographing wild flowers and looking appreciatively at uncurling fern fronds and blackthorn flowers and such like.
We walked down to Moulin Huet bay. Lorraine insisting on taking her boots off, so I followed suit and paddled in the sea. Quite astonishingly cold – a raw burning kind of freeze. But it was amazingly invigorating. Lorraine found herself a rock to sit on, surrounded by rock pools and zoned out listening to the sea. I found myself another stone and meditated for ten minutes or so, my bare feet on the sand, and the waves and gulls filling me, and the sun warming my face.
We were the only people on the beach and it was good to be there. When I used to meditate regularly, I often envisaged myself sitting in Moulin Huet, so it was very good to actually sit there and do it in reality.
Off and on in the last few days I have had a mental spring clean. I discover that lots of the decisions I've taken lately are coming from the fearful, apprehensive side of my nature. My plan of action is clear now, and it is to return to the positive and finish the Skelton Yawngrave book over the next month or so. Now I am clear about what I am doing, I suddenly feel much lighter and more optimistic. Guernsey has worked its magic yet again.
In the evening went into St Peter Port and wound up having a curry at a restaurant called Sitar. An air of stifled frenzy about the staff, and while we waited for food Lorraine we observed the lilac walls, and orange and lime green drapes, and gold columns and exposed brick walls, and exposed granite walls, and purple candle holders ascending the stairs. Everything was fighting, which added to the air of exhaustion. The food, when it arrived, was average. But a curry on a Friday night is inevitably a cracking idea.
Taxi home, and talking to the driver about the Muratti Vase cup, which is the inter-island football cup, which, except for in 1920 when Alderney memorably won, is inevitably played out between Guernsey and Jersey. There is usually an atmosphere of some animosity, with taunts of Crapaud and Donkey being swapped. Random fact: Alderney's worst defeat came in 1994 when they were beaten 18-0 by Jersey in the semi final.
Below feet in the sea, Lorraine on the cliffs,a view from Icart Point, a cliff head,a butterfly and the cliff path goes through some blackthorn - imagine all the sloes at the end of the year.
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