under another sun

Up just before six today, to the welcome news that Obama had been re-elected in the US presidential election. Lorraine dropped me and my case at Brighton station, before driving off to work. Felt sad she wasn’t coming with me. Luckily, a completely uneventful journey followed, as I was feeling curiously stressed. The morning was misty, but the twin-engined prop climbed up into the blue and I had a smooth ride to Guernsey above a blanket of low-altitude cloud that covered the channel. Nice local cab driver, in whose cab I managed to drop my wallet giving me a dodgy few seconds of pocket patting before it was recovered standing outside La Barbarie. I had arrived early, but they checked me in anyway, and I was given the keys to the apartment. Arrived at La Croix Guerin café, ready for a large breakfast, smearing the buttercup yellow Guernsey butter on my toast and gulping my first cup of tea of the day. These hungrily engulfed, I set off for a walk. First, I paid my respects to L...

Hidden Last day in Guernsey. Be rude not to eat a large Guernsey Breakfast. I slunk away to visit my Grandparent's grave. Then we took a walk to Icart and sat there happily chatting, the sky bright and cloudy by turns, and then walked around till we were above Saints Bay. We sat again, and Lorraine read her book in the fresh air, and I ventured down the cliff path down towards the harbour. There I came across two WW2 concrete storage huts which had been shattered since I last had walked down this particular track. I ventured in and walking through them, came across a concrete walkway behind. I followed this and it led to a bunker which was open. There was a huge bee or hornet buzzing in the entrance, and a black bag full of something unpleasant. The door opened into darkness and on the right hand side were four small rooms, possibly to store arms or shells in, or perhaps rooms for the soldiers to stay in. These were very dark, and I used the red light from my camera to look into th...

Return Up early and packed. Took ourselves to La Croix Guerin for breakfast, and then walked (slowly as my knee was abominable) to Icart. We sat there happily for some time looking down on the perfect view, and listening to the waves on the rocks below. On one of the benches were a couple reading books, and glancing up from time to time at all the view below them. Rather idyllic. Eventually we tore ourselves away, Lorraine a little tearful, and had to yomp back to the apartment in time to get the bus for our plane. Journey home comfortable and eventless. Very quickly through Gatwick and early home. I posted a couple of orders for A Guernsey Double off and fell into a night of indolence after Lorraine returned home. My knee had swollen badly after rushing this morning, and I was grateful just to sit on my gold sofa, happy at least that I wasn't wasting being in Guernsey any more. Just regular Brighton time. Calliope pleased to see me, though she clearly had not excessively pined and...

Grave matters This morning Mum had arranged to see a relative called Roy in La Criox Guerin, a nearby cafe. I had opted out of this encounter as the conversation was mainly about the deaths, and how a distant cousin of mine had just had a double amputation. Had an email from Jane detailing her and Richard's end of the famous poetry evening. Apparently Richard bruised his ribs falling into bed, a fact which makes me feel curiously comforted. As a preparation for her meeting I went with Mum to the graveyard. Here we looked at several graves of family members, including a fresh one for Sadie, my grandfather's sister-in-law. I'd not seen Sadie for some time, but she had been kind to me as a child. Especially when my Grandmother had been summoned to England one year when I was 12 as her sister had died suddenly. My grandfather refused to cook, so I was promoted to chef and cooked for him and Toby. Sadie came around once or twice to see if I was coping, and offer advice on the fi...

Little rituals Flying to Guernsey has all the ingredients I like: a) shortness - a mere 35 minutes, and b) the fact that I know the destination inside out, so no wondering what alien hordes are going to sweep towards you as you land, wanting to relieve you of your cash and/or luggage. The descent over Herm was lovely, banking over the greenish turquoise sea and through cotton-puff clouds. Windy and clear once we were down. Caught a cab and was soon at Les Douvres hotel, and shown to a pleasant room with that dubious delight - a twentieth century four poster bed. But clean and pleasant all round. Soon I was about my usual rituals on getting to Guernsey, I went down to my grandparents Gwen and Dave's grave and put some tasteful white carnations there, and straightened the next door grave, whose vases had been blown over in the strong wind. I also went off to pay my respects to the La Gran'mère du Chimquière and let her know I was back. She was looking fine, and adorned with flo...