Back to Guernsey
Rushing about in the rain, with black bags of rubbish to the skip, and trying not to get cross with a random mad woman who told me that Calliope, who was waiting for me to return, wasn't happy and should be indoors.
Flight to Guernsey was bumpy, the plane sandwiched between layers of cloud. Guernsey overcast and rainy when we arrived. I for one was grateful to touch down, despite the beautiful views of a grey and brooding Herm and Sark as we flew in.
Met by Richard at the airport and we quickly repaired to the Farmhouse in his van with Rufus and Holly the dogs, for our now traditional fish and chips. As we were sipping our drinks and embarking on our gossipathon, Richard was called by a woman from Lexicon, one of the bookshops in St Peter Port having sold out of A Guernsey Double, and wanting more stock. This rather pleasing. Lovely chat with Richard along with the knife and forkwork.
Pleased too that he understood my need for a bit of solitary cliff walking and brooding. He dropped me off at La Barbarie, and I was given an excellent room. Unpacked and sat on the sofa with a sigh of satisfaction. Two seconds my French clients phoned with some urgent work.
I walked to Icârt Point. I usually come here first when I am in Guernsey. Today the sky was overcast and the sea steely blue, and the cliffs sombre, but as usual the effect is achingly beautiful. From there I walked the paths down to Saints Bay and then around the headland to Moulin Huet, sucking in lungfuls of the earthy Autumn air.
Then, after taking an hour to do the urgent French work back at the hotel, off to the Captains where I toyed with a plateful of greasy lasagna, and quaffed half a Rocquette Guernsey cider. Overtired, I felt curiously twitchy and unable to relax. Forced myself to listen to relaxation tapes till I eventually slept.
Rushing about in the rain, with black bags of rubbish to the skip, and trying not to get cross with a random mad woman who told me that Calliope, who was waiting for me to return, wasn't happy and should be indoors.
Flight to Guernsey was bumpy, the plane sandwiched between layers of cloud. Guernsey overcast and rainy when we arrived. I for one was grateful to touch down, despite the beautiful views of a grey and brooding Herm and Sark as we flew in.
Met by Richard at the airport and we quickly repaired to the Farmhouse in his van with Rufus and Holly the dogs, for our now traditional fish and chips. As we were sipping our drinks and embarking on our gossipathon, Richard was called by a woman from Lexicon, one of the bookshops in St Peter Port having sold out of A Guernsey Double, and wanting more stock. This rather pleasing. Lovely chat with Richard along with the knife and forkwork.
Pleased too that he understood my need for a bit of solitary cliff walking and brooding. He dropped me off at La Barbarie, and I was given an excellent room. Unpacked and sat on the sofa with a sigh of satisfaction. Two seconds my French clients phoned with some urgent work.
I walked to Icârt Point. I usually come here first when I am in Guernsey. Today the sky was overcast and the sea steely blue, and the cliffs sombre, but as usual the effect is achingly beautiful. From there I walked the paths down to Saints Bay and then around the headland to Moulin Huet, sucking in lungfuls of the earthy Autumn air.
Then, after taking an hour to do the urgent French work back at the hotel, off to the Captains where I toyed with a plateful of greasy lasagna, and quaffed half a Rocquette Guernsey cider. Overtired, I felt curiously twitchy and unable to relax. Forced myself to listen to relaxation tapes till I eventually slept.
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