Homeward bound
Up and off early today. Cheery goodbyes from the folks at La Barbarie, and a last Guernsey Breakfast. A nice, friendly cab driver and dropped off in good time at the airport. Very sad to see Guernsey slip away underwing. A jet on the way home, and a decent flight.
Big fluffy clouds building into towers here and there. A woman in the row behind us talking continuously to her child, in an unbelievably piercing voice. I noticed her talking first from right across the airport lounge, and I could hear her from a hundred yards away as we walked in the corridor towards the little domestic flights carousel room at Gatwick. I was pleased to get out of earshot.
Home easily, as we had parked the car at Gatwick. Home and found Pat and Maureen there, all looking sunburned having fallen asleep on deckchairs on the pier. Maureen said she was hypnotised to sleep by the i360 going up and down.
Home and we decided to go to some gardens with Pat and Maureen. Drove to the Sussex Prairie gardens, but as soon as we parked the gar it started raining in big spots, so we drove off to a garden centre instead where we had a good sandwich and bought lots of plants. Home again, and sitting in the back garden watching Lorraine put up the baskets.
Pete arrived, as I opened the door, Lorraine's long bearded nephew was just visible in an enormous cloud of vaporiser steam. A Gandalf at your front door moment. He said he had been drinking red bull all day and drove here at 110 miles an hour from Ashford.
Fond farewells to Pat and Maureen. Lorraine said Maureen had left me a present in my study, and when I went up there, there was a yellow flowered succulent I had admired in the garden centre on my desk. A lovely present. I discovered later that it opens its flowers when the sun falls on it, and closes up when it doesn't.
A slothful tiredness on my this evening. And a quiet night sipping restorative mineral water with my lovely wife.
Me and Lorraine on the plane, and Guernsey, viewed from the west, disappearing underwing.
Big fluffy clouds building into towers here and there. A woman in the row behind us talking continuously to her child, in an unbelievably piercing voice. I noticed her talking first from right across the airport lounge, and I could hear her from a hundred yards away as we walked in the corridor towards the little domestic flights carousel room at Gatwick. I was pleased to get out of earshot.
Home easily, as we had parked the car at Gatwick. Home and found Pat and Maureen there, all looking sunburned having fallen asleep on deckchairs on the pier. Maureen said she was hypnotised to sleep by the i360 going up and down.
Home and we decided to go to some gardens with Pat and Maureen. Drove to the Sussex Prairie gardens, but as soon as we parked the gar it started raining in big spots, so we drove off to a garden centre instead where we had a good sandwich and bought lots of plants. Home again, and sitting in the back garden watching Lorraine put up the baskets.
Pete arrived, as I opened the door, Lorraine's long bearded nephew was just visible in an enormous cloud of vaporiser steam. A Gandalf at your front door moment. He said he had been drinking red bull all day and drove here at 110 miles an hour from Ashford.
Fond farewells to Pat and Maureen. Lorraine said Maureen had left me a present in my study, and when I went up there, there was a yellow flowered succulent I had admired in the garden centre on my desk. A lovely present. I discovered later that it opens its flowers when the sun falls on it, and closes up when it doesn't.
A slothful tiredness on my this evening. And a quiet night sipping restorative mineral water with my lovely wife.
Me and Lorraine on the plane, and Guernsey, viewed from the west, disappearing underwing.
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