Wandering happily
Appalling nightmares. Rather pleased to be stirring myself to go into La Barbarie for one of the hotel breakfasts. In a The Shining moment I was alone for breakfast for some time till two couples turned up, whispering over their tables as if they were in a library.
I went back to the self catering apartment, which was spacious and great for writing in. Worked on my poetry manuscript till approaching noon, making some big strides, before embarking on another walk. This time from Icart to Petit Bôt along the cliff path. Again found myself alarmingly unfit scrambling up and down steps. Am still on antibiotics for a persistent infection, so this may contribute. Despite this loving the autumnal colours, and to lose myself in horizons, and have the freedom to wander happily along the lanes from the cliff path back to St Martins, walking back along La Rue des Grons, where my Grandparents lived. Every turning full of associations.
Did a spot more shopping, including taking a £1 bag of Guernsey Toms from a hedge stall, having only found Moroccan tomatoes or Jersey tomatoes in the shops - facts which strangely enraged me. Walked past my old school, with school kids playing in the schoolyard. Would have stayed nostalgically to watch them play, but felt this would be misinterpreted.
Home for a snooze and read, then off by bus to St Peter Port. Popped into the Ship and Crown and enjoyed a pint of Landlord availing myself briefly of their wifi, and looking at the lights twinkling in the harbour, and Castle Cornet lit up yellow against the black sky towards Herm and Sark.
Wonderful evening with Richard, in Dix Neuf restaurant. Loads to discuss as usual, his new book, our various schemes and a broad brushed review of recent personal events, against a backdrop of some enjoyable knife and forkwork - strangely soupy but highly enjoyable chicken pies. We repaired afterwards to the Albion nursing a final beer as Jane came to pick us up, and very kindly dropped me home. Will see them tomorrow too, and have the opportunity to hear Jane's news.
Below Saints Cottage; the little bunker opposite La Bella Luce, the cliff path towards Petit Bôt.
I went back to the self catering apartment, which was spacious and great for writing in. Worked on my poetry manuscript till approaching noon, making some big strides, before embarking on another walk. This time from Icart to Petit Bôt along the cliff path. Again found myself alarmingly unfit scrambling up and down steps. Am still on antibiotics for a persistent infection, so this may contribute. Despite this loving the autumnal colours, and to lose myself in horizons, and have the freedom to wander happily along the lanes from the cliff path back to St Martins, walking back along La Rue des Grons, where my Grandparents lived. Every turning full of associations.
Did a spot more shopping, including taking a £1 bag of Guernsey Toms from a hedge stall, having only found Moroccan tomatoes or Jersey tomatoes in the shops - facts which strangely enraged me. Walked past my old school, with school kids playing in the schoolyard. Would have stayed nostalgically to watch them play, but felt this would be misinterpreted.
Home for a snooze and read, then off by bus to St Peter Port. Popped into the Ship and Crown and enjoyed a pint of Landlord availing myself briefly of their wifi, and looking at the lights twinkling in the harbour, and Castle Cornet lit up yellow against the black sky towards Herm and Sark.
Wonderful evening with Richard, in Dix Neuf restaurant. Loads to discuss as usual, his new book, our various schemes and a broad brushed review of recent personal events, against a backdrop of some enjoyable knife and forkwork - strangely soupy but highly enjoyable chicken pies. We repaired afterwards to the Albion nursing a final beer as Jane came to pick us up, and very kindly dropped me home. Will see them tomorrow too, and have the opportunity to hear Jane's news.
Below Saints Cottage; the little bunker opposite La Bella Luce, the cliff path towards Petit Bôt.
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