under another sun

Up to London feeling tired. Spoke to Mum at lunchtime and she told me the sad news that Betty Tostevin had died last week. This is very sad news as she and Mum had been friends since I was a kid. Mum is having a series of events like this, this year. Betty was a lovely woman, and a cheery soul despite having many disadvantages such as being deaf, and blind in one eye after a teenage illness.  I am pleased I got to see her, albeit briefly, a few weeks ago, and pleased Mum got to spend an hour or so with her then too. Otherwise another potentially heartsinking start to the week's commute. Some kind of gas leak near the line in south London. Fortunately despite dire first impressions at Victoria, it did not seem to delay the journey too badly. Glad to be home. Lorraine out singing. Chatted lots to Claudia. I like having a niece.

Up for a large breakfast, and then took Mum off to Torteval to see Betty Tostevin. A difficult journey in which we got lost again, and many of the lanes were blocked off. Cue me swearing again. Finally arrived at Torteval Church and said a quick hello and kissing of Betty, who was looking fairly well considering she has been sick for some time. Then back to the hotel, where we drove Pat and Maureen to Icart Point again to say goodbye to the island. A stunningly beautiful day. Pat and Maureen really liked Guernsey and were sad to be leaving. Off in a taxi to the Airport with them, and saw them safely off through the security gate. Then Lorraine and I decided to walk home from the Airport. We walked down towards Petit Bot again, but then cut up the cliff path and made our way through astonishingly beautiful paths decked in wild white garlic and sea campion, bluebells, daises, yellow gorse and pink flowers too. A riot of beauty in fact, and the sea looking stunning below us.  ...

Book signing More leisurely day today, the island covered in low cloud, and rain. Richard and I slightly delicate (even for poets) this morning. Jane on surprisingly good form. Richard, retrieving the dogs from the kennel, dropped me in town and as the weather was not good, I sat in my usual cafe: the St Pierre by the old market, read my Guernsey Press (searching in vain for any mention of our book, weasels) and made some notes, even starting a poem about fog. Sipped cappuccinos, and sparkling water and trying to find a news item to discuss on the radio next week as I succumbed to a cheese and ham toastie. Met Richard again, looking spiffy in the Pollet and we went to the Guernsey Press shop were there was a fine display of A Guernsey Double in the shop window. Old family friend Betty Tostevin was waiting for us impatiently when we got in, who gave me a firm kiss and bought a book. Otherwise a rather quiet book signing. Left to reflect how our publicity for this bit had gone wrong. Ho...