under another sun

No strangers Another stroll to Icart this morning, which was stunningly beautiful. Richard came to collect us this afternoon, and drove us up to the Vale for Sunday lunch with Mrs Fleming, June - Jane's lady in waiting - and Bob and Gina who we met at the wedding reception. Bob had gone to Copland High School like me, but a few years before. His opinion of that establishment the same as mine. We all scarfed an absolutely delicious salad with more champagne in the back garden. Really good fun and much chatting and the afternoon drifted by in good cheer. After some time, Jane drove us back to the hotel. A quick snooze and I snuck out to take photographs of a local field. Then we had our final Barbarie feast. We both had roast duck leg served on a bed of red cabbage, and I am not sure what kinds of stuff they put in the cabbage, but it was entirely good. Repaired to the bar for a Rocquette cider which is excellent. Listening to Frank Sinatra being played there, and had a sudden cravin...

A sugar mouse Off to the gym this morning, where I was fully inducted by a nice lady called Jess wearing spangly eye makeup. She showed me how to use all the machines and weights without making me feel like a weed. Nice to actually talk to someone friendly there, and I really enjoyed my session. The Pens & Lens anthology from Guernsey, arrived today having been sent me by Richard Fleming. Only one poem per contributor, but my poem The Remembering Cliffs is the first one you see, being on page three (although they've numbered the collection strangely so I appear on p2) opposite a poem in Guernésiais I've never seen before by Hélier D'Rocquione. Very pleased by this publication, out of all proportion to the collection's circulation, simply because it is a poem about Guernsey published there. Some rather good work in it too. Richard's poem Funeral at Torteval ends in a lovely way. The hedgerow birds, today, seem dumb as one by one the black cars leave; you by yo...

Little rituals Flying to Guernsey has all the ingredients I like: a) shortness - a mere 35 minutes, and b) the fact that I know the destination inside out, so no wondering what alien hordes are going to sweep towards you as you land, wanting to relieve you of your cash and/or luggage. The descent over Herm was lovely, banking over the greenish turquoise sea and through cotton-puff clouds. Windy and clear once we were down. Caught a cab and was soon at Les Douvres hotel, and shown to a pleasant room with that dubious delight - a twentieth century four poster bed. But clean and pleasant all round. Soon I was about my usual rituals on getting to Guernsey, I went down to my grandparents Gwen and Dave's grave and put some tasteful white carnations there, and straightened the next door grave, whose vases had been blown over in the strong wind. I also went off to pay my respects to the La Gran'mère du Chimquière and let her know I was back. She was looking fine, and adorned with flo...