Leaving Guernsey
As usual, sad to go from Guernsey. We self catered a large breakfast of eggs and fried tomatoes and toast, and packed up our stuff and left it at reception.
A walk next. A grey, cloudy day, with a little drizzle from time to time, but nothing much. To Icart Point again. I was feeling weirdly vertiginous today, which wasn't good. But I still loved to lurk around looking out to sea, which was banded with dark blue and watching a kestrel quartering the clifftop for prey.
Walked back along the road, then onto the cliff path opposite the Saints Bay Hotel, and then down the path to Saints Harbour. Here it started raining with a bit more enthusiasm and we were running out of time so we returned to La Barbarie for soup and I had a pint of bitter, and the ladies had cider. It is only a couple of days from the end of their season, and the staff were clearly done with the year. Still we were made to feel as welcome as usual.
Then off by taxi, the same driver that picked us up at the airport. A long wait at the airport as he had arrived on time and we got there in minutes. Good to see one of Richard's poems for all to see. Walking out to the plane on the runway in greyness, good in a way as it made us just want to scuttle into the plane rather than looking longingly at the island. A short slightly bumpy flight home. Then farewell to Mum at the station. Felt sorry for her having to travel through London while we had a short trip to Preston Park and were able simply to roll our case up the hill home.
Felt flat and tired this evening, but certainly perked up when we had a delivery from The Shahi after Lorraine had returned from pilates. Good to be back home with cats on the gold sofa. Our own bed awaiting, and we were in it early tonight.
A grey day. On the Icart Road, Lorraine at Icart; a kestrel; low tide at Icart; the Martello above Saints Bay; Mum above Saint's Harbour; a bit of stonework revealed by the low tide near Saints Bay in the sea which makes me wonder where that came from, Richard's poem in the airport; flying home between layers of cloud.
A walk next. A grey, cloudy day, with a little drizzle from time to time, but nothing much. To Icart Point again. I was feeling weirdly vertiginous today, which wasn't good. But I still loved to lurk around looking out to sea, which was banded with dark blue and watching a kestrel quartering the clifftop for prey.
Walked back along the road, then onto the cliff path opposite the Saints Bay Hotel, and then down the path to Saints Harbour. Here it started raining with a bit more enthusiasm and we were running out of time so we returned to La Barbarie for soup and I had a pint of bitter, and the ladies had cider. It is only a couple of days from the end of their season, and the staff were clearly done with the year. Still we were made to feel as welcome as usual.
Then off by taxi, the same driver that picked us up at the airport. A long wait at the airport as he had arrived on time and we got there in minutes. Good to see one of Richard's poems for all to see. Walking out to the plane on the runway in greyness, good in a way as it made us just want to scuttle into the plane rather than looking longingly at the island. A short slightly bumpy flight home. Then farewell to Mum at the station. Felt sorry for her having to travel through London while we had a short trip to Preston Park and were able simply to roll our case up the hill home.
Felt flat and tired this evening, but certainly perked up when we had a delivery from The Shahi after Lorraine had returned from pilates. Good to be back home with cats on the gold sofa. Our own bed awaiting, and we were in it early tonight.
A grey day. On the Icart Road, Lorraine at Icart; a kestrel; low tide at Icart; the Martello above Saints Bay; Mum above Saint's Harbour; a bit of stonework revealed by the low tide near Saints Bay in the sea which makes me wonder where that came from, Richard's poem in the airport; flying home between layers of cloud.
Comments