The yellow cliffs

Met mum at Gatwick, and once we were through the indignities of security, we repaired to a bar for a bracing gin and tonic. We only noticed our flight some time later when the screen was saying final boarding.

The flight dreamlike, in a prop aircraft flying through haze. Then before we landed, it flew straight and level, quite low over the misty sea. Somewhat galled that we had booked seats 2a and 2b only to be bumped back to row 19 due to some bogus claim about balancing the aircraft (which was barely half full). I will get a refund.

Arrived at La Barbarie in the afternoon. This now has wi fi access in the bar, which is a splendid combination. Once out of the taxi, the parish was very quiet, with the sound of foghorns distinct all afternoon.

Soon we were out and walked on the cliffs from Icart point to Saints, and then around a few lanes inland. The sun low and warm above the misty cloud and the cliffs were yellowing with the first gorse.

In the evening I drank rather too much by way of celebration, and we had a slap up feast in the Barbarie's restaurant. Hard to think, looking at Mum on the cliffs, that she fought off cancer last year.

Comments