Guernsey at last
An alarming start: 6:45. I'd had a wretched night's sleep. Seems the that orange faced malignant narcissistic rapist racist criminal devil Trump has beaten Kamala Harris to the presidency. Shameful. Lorraine and I up blearily, and after breakfast and faffing about, caught a train to Brighton, and arrived delayed at Gatwick. Realised at Seaford station I had left my phone at home. No trains via Lewes due to a points failure, so via Brighton to Gatwick. However planes delayed here due to fog, probably mixed up with yesterday's gunpowder. Astonishingly, however, our boarding was only delayed by half an hour of so. The flight was fine. The small twin engined prop taking off like a flying coach all very smooth. Cramped inside however, but very happy to see Guernsey for the first time in two and a half years as we finally dropped below the low blanket of cloud. A taxi from the airport. The most miserable taxi driver I've ever met, completely down on every aspect of Guernse