A pain in the neck
Up early to pack and have my final La Barbarie kipper. Mum and I then spent the final morning walking again. First to Icart Point and round to Saints Bay and Saints Harbour. The tide low and a early a blue sky which blurred into the blue water. The cliffs busier than I'd seen them for the last two weeks, with people running half-marathons. At Saints Bay we paused to eat a slice of gâche and drink a cup of tea before walking the final stretch of the cliffwalk to Moulin Huet, as the clouds began to encroach.
Back up the lanes to La Barbarie to order a taxi and we had a fast drink in the bar. Enjoyed sitting on a table next to a family who were talking about sport. The rather posh Grandmother, who was easily in her 80s said she hadn't seen the rugby, but had seen Imran Khan boxing. Someone said that it wasn't Imran, but Amir Khan. She replied "Oh yes, that's right. But it was jolly good," for some reason I really liked this. Then Anton phoned me to ask when the Luftwaffe was flying me back.
Then off to the airport in a taxi. For some reason the people at the airport wouldn't accept £5 notes which sent me into a rage. Mum went off to talk to Roy, was my granddad's brother in law, for a quick chat before we got on the plane. Nice flight. Said a fond farewell to Mum at the station, then had a nightmare session with trains at Gatwick. All disruption and no information. I ended up getting into an argument with an idiot station person who watched the milling confusion benignly. When I suggested he might tell people what was the best route home using the loudspeaker equipment handily provided for that purpose, he replied that I hadn't asked him. This made me see red. Unfortunately this backfired as my neck seized up and sent evil jabbing pains into my head. Welcome back to Blighty.
Lorraine rescued me from Haywards Heath station, like an angel with a good haircut, and dropped me home. But not before getting into an altercation with a mini car full of v-signing boys in a small town. Then I unpacked, did some laundry and took pills for my new headache. Chatted to Anton again on the phone, bought some milk and then went to bed a bit later. But, despite everything, it was very good to be home.
Up early to pack and have my final La Barbarie kipper. Mum and I then spent the final morning walking again. First to Icart Point and round to Saints Bay and Saints Harbour. The tide low and a early a blue sky which blurred into the blue water. The cliffs busier than I'd seen them for the last two weeks, with people running half-marathons. At Saints Bay we paused to eat a slice of gâche and drink a cup of tea before walking the final stretch of the cliffwalk to Moulin Huet, as the clouds began to encroach.
Back up the lanes to La Barbarie to order a taxi and we had a fast drink in the bar. Enjoyed sitting on a table next to a family who were talking about sport. The rather posh Grandmother, who was easily in her 80s said she hadn't seen the rugby, but had seen Imran Khan boxing. Someone said that it wasn't Imran, but Amir Khan. She replied "Oh yes, that's right. But it was jolly good," for some reason I really liked this. Then Anton phoned me to ask when the Luftwaffe was flying me back.
Then off to the airport in a taxi. For some reason the people at the airport wouldn't accept £5 notes which sent me into a rage. Mum went off to talk to Roy, was my granddad's brother in law, for a quick chat before we got on the plane. Nice flight. Said a fond farewell to Mum at the station, then had a nightmare session with trains at Gatwick. All disruption and no information. I ended up getting into an argument with an idiot station person who watched the milling confusion benignly. When I suggested he might tell people what was the best route home using the loudspeaker equipment handily provided for that purpose, he replied that I hadn't asked him. This made me see red. Unfortunately this backfired as my neck seized up and sent evil jabbing pains into my head. Welcome back to Blighty.
Lorraine rescued me from Haywards Heath station, like an angel with a good haircut, and dropped me home. But not before getting into an altercation with a mini car full of v-signing boys in a small town. Then I unpacked, did some laundry and took pills for my new headache. Chatted to Anton again on the phone, bought some milk and then went to bed a bit later. But, despite everything, it was very good to be home.
Below a nice butterfly on the cliffs, and Saints Bay from its little Harbour, with Mum in it.
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