Guernsey at last

An alarming start: 6:45. I'd had a wretched night's sleep. Seems the that orange faced malignant narcissistic rapist racist criminal devil Trump has beaten Kamala Harris to the presidency. Shameful. 

Lorraine and I up blearily, and after breakfast and faffing about, caught a train to Brighton, and arrived delayed at Gatwick. Realised at Seaford station I had left my phone at home. No trains via Lewes due to a points failure, so via Brighton to Gatwick. However planes delayed here due to fog, probably mixed up with yesterday's gunpowder. Astonishingly, however, our boarding was only delayed by half an hour of so.  The flight was fine. The small twin engined prop taking off like a flying coach all very smooth. Cramped inside however, but very happy to see Guernsey for the first time in two and a half years as we finally dropped below the low blanket of cloud. 

A taxi from the airport. The most miserable taxi driver I've ever met, completely down on every aspect of Guernsey. Happy to be dropped at the Barbarie, where we were greeted very warmly by Sally on reception, and Andrew himself came down to welcome us. We had an upgraded room, and a bottle of Prosecco on ice, plus chocolates and so on when we got there. A quick bite to eat in the bar and a pint of Rocquette cider, and then Lorraine and I went for a walk on the cliffs. Walked to Icart, and was deeply saddened to see that the pine trees that lined the last stretch of the Icart Road towards the point had all been felled. 

However, the cliffs themselves all but unchanged, and Lorraine and I had a glorious walk there, despite the weather. Lorraine took some beautiful snaps. Back at the room, I had a bit of a doze, feeling wonderful afterwards. We drank some of the Prosecco and guzzled the chocolate, I had a shower and we mooched into the restaurant, and had a nice meal. Ravis serving us. Back to the room to have an early night. 

We are going to see Richard and Jane tomorrow for lunch. 

Below snaps by Lorraine, in the pearly grey light.