under another sun

Two years ago today, Lorraine and I got married. Clearly the best life decision I've ever taken. I never thought that being married would be so fantastic. Nor did I expect that being married would improve our relationship still further. Up early and off for La Barbarie's breakfast. A full Guernsey Breakfast for me, despite confirmation in the news that red meat, and processed meat such as sausages and bacon are bad for you.  I almost never eat red meat, and very little processed meat, so I took my life in my own hands. Very tasty as usual. Another unexpectedly beautiful day. We took ourselves off to town on the bus. I went to the joke shop, stuffed full of witches costumes, rubber spiders and ghost masks and asked if they had a Frankenstein's head. 'No, we don't have anything like that here,' said the woman behind the counter unhelpfully, with no attempt to cross sell me on, say, a zombie head. A spot of shopping here and there, some wine for tonight and s...

Below our view while eating a picnic above Petit Bot, and shots along the cliff path to Icart. Including my lovely wife with the sun behind her, and the final view from our engagement bench.

Cloudy and spitting with rain this morning. Lorraine and I outside however, Lorraine determinedly sitting on the sun lounger under the clouds. Obviously as this was a holiday, I was contacted about work from my French clients and about the pitch. Had a stroll around St Martins, calling in on La Gran'mère to say hello, and miraculously seeing her without the obligatory white van parked in front was a pleasure. Then ambled about and walking down the lane opposite the corner of Les Douvres and finding new little pathways. Back to La Barbarie, where we then arranged to meet Richard at Icart. The Icart outdoor cafe becoming increasingly Alice in Wonderland with the owner being as chatty and personable as ever, and his gardens already strange with tall echiums, now with twisty paths and nooks to sit in. Here we met Richard, leaving Holly in the van, and drank a coffee and Lorraine and I  ate a slice of Guernsey gâche. Very good to see Richard again, and discuss wide ranging subjects su...

Down to Petit Bôt this morning Mum, Maureen and Pat all squished in the back of the car and talking about sardines. Walked about over the stones, to the sand, and then returned to doze meditatively on the bench above the bay.  The sun flirting with us behind a large black cloud.  An American woman staying at the Barbarie passed by and we had a chat with her. Then off to Torteval again to the Imperial Hotel for a spot of lunch, slightly chaotic but filling food. Mum spoke to her other brother Peter on the phone, and then I got a work call to confirm an interesting freelance assignment to start the moment I get set foot in the UK. Then we drove off to find the Freesia centre, and spent some time circling down lanes in the middle of the island accompanied by me swearing at the map. Finally found the Freesia centre was in fact four or five long greenhouses with freesias growing in them. I love the smell of freesias, so was in an olfactory heaven. Some mooching here, and Pat ...

Time travelling An atrocious hangover this morning. Woke up at 7 feeling very poor indeed. Had a slow breakfast, concentrating on not choking on my food. Mum's cure was to walk for three hours or so. We headed up to the airport, and then back through all kinds of Ruette Tranquilles, waterlanes, paths and roads back. Many were new to me, despite having roamed this corner of the island all my life. Passed our old house on the way back to the hotel. Time has blunted the painfulness of seeing it out of the family. But everything that has been done to the house has made it uglier, such as putting tarmac over the front gardens, and erecting a small wall made of breeze blocks, which is a shame. It looks diminished and run down, and no longer like the 16th Century cottage that has loomed so large in my life. In the evening around the corner to have a late Sunday lunch with Betty and her mum Mavis, who will be 90 next year, and is still bright as a button although these days “me and stairs ...

A long walk to Torteval Again in my happy routine of writing first thing, and then going for a long walk. Mum and I went to Icârt and then turned west, and walked for miles along the cliff path, guzzling blackberries as we went, knees groaning because of the dozens and dozens of stairs. We had lunch at the Hollows restaurant just up from a rocky peninsular called Le Gouffre. Here we had some Greek food with teeth-squeaking haloumi cheese and giant beans, and I also reacquainted myself with retsina. Then back on the cliff path towards Torteval through Le Bigard and La Corbière and up and down many more stairs. I had never been on this path before. At one point we passed a hidden house with a spiralling snail shell roof in slate. Eventually we decided to head onto the road, and climbed through a hedge past a Satanically enormous goat and Mum began scrambling over a large fence before she spotted a gap in the hedge instead. Eventually, after hours of walking, and I was feeling pretty tire...