Richard in Wonderland
Cloudy and spitting with rain this morning. Lorraine and I outside however, Lorraine determinedly sitting on the sun lounger under the clouds. Obviously as this was a holiday, I was contacted about work from my French clients and about the pitch. Had a stroll around St Martins, calling in on La Gran'mère to say hello, and miraculously seeing her without the obligatory white van parked in front was a pleasure. Then ambled about and walking down the lane opposite the corner of Les Douvres and finding new little pathways. Back to La Barbarie, where we then arranged to meet Richard at Icart.
The Icart outdoor cafe becoming increasingly Alice in Wonderland with the owner being as chatty and personable as ever, and his gardens already strange with tall echiums, now with twisty paths and nooks to sit in. Here we met Richard, leaving Holly in the van, and drank a coffee and Lorraine and I ate a slice of Guernsey gâche. Very good to see Richard again, and discuss wide ranging subjects such as poetry and Richard's new found love of baking including a lethal-sounding chocolate granola block of his own invention, as well as the importance of gardens, and the absence of Jane who was overseas royal business.
Richard gave Lorraine and I a lift to St Martins where we bought a picnic as the evening was now rather warm and beautiful. With a bag of salads, strawberries and chicken legs we walked to the cliff path above Petit Bôt, and ate our food and gulped sparkling water looking out to sea.
From here, we walked back to Icart as the sun lowered. I was slightly ambushed by feelings of vertigo but nevertheless it was a beautiful walk, and we ended it sitting briefly on 'our' bench before walking back along the lanes to the hotel, where we had a couple of drinks in the bar, and even coaxed a couple of words out of the taciturn new barman. We'd walked, according to my pedometer, over 20 thousand paces today which wasn't bad.
Below La Gran'mère and St Martin's Parish Church, an old glasshouse being reclaimed by nature, St Peter Port Daisies on a wall, a gate in St Martins, the ever-photogenic Richard, a large lummox with Richard, nooks in the garden at Icart, featuring some of the many echiums.
The Icart outdoor cafe becoming increasingly Alice in Wonderland with the owner being as chatty and personable as ever, and his gardens already strange with tall echiums, now with twisty paths and nooks to sit in. Here we met Richard, leaving Holly in the van, and drank a coffee and Lorraine and I ate a slice of Guernsey gâche. Very good to see Richard again, and discuss wide ranging subjects such as poetry and Richard's new found love of baking including a lethal-sounding chocolate granola block of his own invention, as well as the importance of gardens, and the absence of Jane who was overseas royal business.
Richard gave Lorraine and I a lift to St Martins where we bought a picnic as the evening was now rather warm and beautiful. With a bag of salads, strawberries and chicken legs we walked to the cliff path above Petit Bôt, and ate our food and gulped sparkling water looking out to sea.
From here, we walked back to Icart as the sun lowered. I was slightly ambushed by feelings of vertigo but nevertheless it was a beautiful walk, and we ended it sitting briefly on 'our' bench before walking back along the lanes to the hotel, where we had a couple of drinks in the bar, and even coaxed a couple of words out of the taciturn new barman. We'd walked, according to my pedometer, over 20 thousand paces today which wasn't bad.
Below La Gran'mère and St Martin's Parish Church, an old glasshouse being reclaimed by nature, St Peter Port Daisies on a wall, a gate in St Martins, the ever-photogenic Richard, a large lummox with Richard, nooks in the garden at Icart, featuring some of the many echiums.
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