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 flowers. From there to less ancestral matters, and had a nice baked potato in La Croix Guerin (site worth a visit for all kinds of reasons). Then off to Moulin Huet pottery to lurk briefly about before a short cliff walk from Moulin Huet to Icart Point. The cliffs full of flowers and windy, and I felt quite out of puff and tired. Stopped at Icart Point for a cup of tea, and after I enquired how his season was going, he looked at me a little wildly and said that he was suffering from mercury poisoning. But is getting better apparently.

Back to the hotel for a shower, and then off straight away to down. As I jumped on the bus outside La Barbarie, I literally ran into Betty, who gave me a big hug and a kiss as she got off the bus. Then to town, to meet Ben and Poppy. After some comedy moments, and being in the wrong places, we had a chat in the De La Rue. It was good to see them, Ben telling us a horrific story of falling off a stepladder onto his eye.

We were only able to meet for a short time as Ben had to zoom off to work. I repaired to The Ship and Crown to watch Germany v Turkey with a roomful of Germans. A good atmosphere. From there I treated myself to a quick curry, and then a cab back to the hotel.

Below La Gran'mère, the bit of the cliffs that inspired me to write The Remembering Cliffs, which starts "The cliffs are full of faces, great granite heads / Petrified just as they lifted from sleep." And some grass and sea action that reminded me of pictures Mum has painted. And the walk down to Moulin Huet.