July: journeying on

July had begun to settle into a rhythm of swims, gardening, walks, gardening...and then we added spring cleaning. An opportunity had come up to rent the house out for a few weeks, as we would normally do when away each summer.

I had been considering a 'staycation' in any case. I recognised that, were I to stay at home all summer,lovely as it is, I would be spending much of my time catching up on the house and garden - particularly the garden - with no real chance to unwind. We couldn't easily go off the island without having to self-isolate for two weeks on our return: the prospect of travelling over to Covid-infested England wasn't appealing and there were no boats to France, so that, in our opinion, was that. The local campsite a couple of miles away in the Fauxquets Valley had been a happy stay last year, so, we decided to see about going away for a few nights. 

We spent a pleasant day, though, investigating the motorhome 'aire' at Beaucette Marina in the north of the island. Cycling up there and visiting friends on our travels gave us a happy 24 mile cycle ride. The motorhome parking could have been well-sited up at Beaucette, the former quarry filled with boats of all descriptions from barges to yachts, but its view of the back of the restaurant, complete with rubbish bins, held,  unsurprisingly, little appeal. 

There are two other campsites in the north: Vaugrat, next to our former house, was lovely and well-sited with just a short walk to the beach, but it does not accept dogs.Pity. The other, the Bailloterie, was where we spent two weeks on our arrival in Guernsey. A pleasant, sprawling site, but without the charm of the Fauxquets. Nor is wifi quite so easily accessible from the van there... So, the Fauxquets it would be.

Booking the Fauxquets online was not without its problems and had to be done in two chunks. When we called in on a ride one day to check that the booking was valid, it was somewhat disconcerting to be told that they don't like long-stay visitors of more than three weeks. The reason: the campers get 'complacent' and start inviting visitors - a strict no-no - and who can blame the owners for their no visitors policy. The swimming pool would be filled with half of Guernsey's children if they got the chance. It didn't exactly make us feel welcome, though, and left me with a determination to be on my best behaviour. I'm a little concerned that Pickle will not feel the same way...

So the last ten days of the month were spent arranging for the guests to come. It is, indeed, the most wonderful feeling to have cupboards cleaned and emptied, the freezer defrosted - a long-held aim - and the house absolutely immaculate. Despite Jonny and Adele's absence, I am loving the feel of the clean, empty entrance hall. Even the dog crate has been stowed away in the office...

There was still masses of time to catch up with friends for coffee, go swimming and cycling, or walk the dog. Lovely to see a lot of my dear neighbour and friend next door Nicky, always so much to chat about. We will miss being able to pop in quite so easily but it will be a good excuse to cycle up to say hello.

There were a couple of challenges. Although we met new friends, partly through newcomers coming to my ladies breakfast one Saturday morning, July saw our home group, which had met for 15 years, split into two as the groups 'multiplied'. It wasn't easy. 

Then, at the end of the month, Jonny and Adele left England for Tanzania. An anxious and prayer-filled 48 hours: one cancelled flight (nothing like turning up at the airport to find your flight to be conspicuously absent) and concerns that the next flight, with another airline, were also indicating that it was cancelled couple with Covid-related uncertainty about the paperwork required to enter Tanzania. Still, all was well and they returned home with only one slight delay en-route. Phew.

The end of the month saw me enjoying an evening swim down at Rocquaine. There were only a couple of other people there: it was grey and windy, with a little surf coming in on rough waves. As I bobbed about in the water, I watched people walk by behind the top of the high sea wall. I couldn't see very well, but it looked as if there was a goat walking along with them. Strange - it must be some sort of child's buggy, I decided.

It wasn't a buggy, though. It was a goat. A Golden Guernsey ram, magnificent horns soaring above its long golden hair. It was being led about on a lead, like a dog, in the courtyard of the Imperial Hotel at the end of the road. Only in Guernsey....