Nervous in November

 November saw Richard getting nervous about my blood pressure… so I was nervous, with the result that our blood pressure monitor began to show some very high and alarming readings. It was a very old monitor – at least 15 years – and not an approved type. In the end, I borrowed one from dear Sarah (who insisted on measuring my BP anyway, in efficient nurse fashion) and found that, in fact, I had nothing to be concerned about and all was fine. Bought a more modern and up to date device, and that was that. Phew.

But the real concern of the month was Storm Ciaran, due to make landfall the night of November 1^st. For a week,  both the news and the weather reports showed experts carefully tracking the storm, trying to predict where it might make landfall.  The radar pictures were quite astounding.

We prepared, along with the rest of the Channel Islands. Unusually, Guernsey and Jersey were named frequently in the weather reports and we knew that we would bear the brunt of the weather. Several rounds of the garden, stowing away all loose objects, moving tables and pot plants into shelter – or even inside the house – and even moving the motorhome to a more sheltered position, tucked in the L of the house to protect it from the wind. We had really no idea of how bad it would be.

And bad it was. I slept through most of the wind overnight, using ear plugs, but was awakened around 4.30 am by the wind buffeting the house, roaring around it in a way we had rarely experienced before. Rain lashed the trees, the storm stripping them of their leaves and tearing at branches. Opposite, our neighbour had a dying conifer down, inconveniently straddling the hedge across half of the road, with the result that all traffic had to slow down and stop in order to avoid it. The neighbour’s hedge was/is in dire need of cutting in any case…

At 8 am our neighbour next door, Catherine, spoke on the radio of how she and her husband had been awake for much of the night, listening to tiles falling off the roof. (Her children were unconcerned: two cool teenage boys and their younger sister, who slept through most of it!) We found shards of slate in our garden and pieces of tile on the roof, even though the tiles had come off the roof on the opposite side: it was almost as if a mini tornado had hit, as the direction that the tiles had been carried made no sense. A week later, I even found a whole, large slate lying in the middle of a bush at the back of the garden, well away from the neighbours’ property.

The storm raged all day as we all sheltered indoors. Schools had been closed and the public urged not to travel, as the emergency services and the tree surgeons worked to clear the 70 or so trees which had fallen all over the island. We watched with sadness as television reports showed how a whole estate on Jersey had been destroyed and families made homeless. We felt we had got off very lightly in comparison…

It took a little time the next morning to sweep up the patio, littered with leaves and berries, and tidy up the front drive. We helped our neighbour remove much of the tree – although there is still a hefty chunk peeping out of the hedge.

We began, also, to prepare for our trip to Tanzania at Christmas. I spent some time, as an avid recycler, in sourcing a second-hand (but barely used) suitcase to replace an old one which had ripped the last time we travelled. As a bonus, I found a pair of very comfortable winter boots in my favourite make for comfort, and two kitchen bar stools to replace ours. Cheap 7 years ago, they had begun to wobble somewhat dangerously and we knew that it wouldn’t be long before they broke. Plus a few visits to the toy department of our charity shop for items for Finn….

And Richard spent his days up in the loft, installing modern insulation – at the expense of his back, which became very sore… (and is why we had to travel Premium Economy to New Zealand…)

The month moved on, the weeks full - as was the bonfire pit. The rear of the garden is prone to flooding and we soon found that the pump would be put to good use as Guernsey endured three times the average amount of daily rainfall within a few hours...

It carried on!

Awesome October

The moon through the trees.

The night sky from our front doot.

Weather report first, of course. The month began with a continuation of the Indian summer we experienced in September. It was comfortable to go swimming – the sea still at around 18 degrees – and I managed swims of at least 500 metres 5 times a week.

The month was busy with catching up with friends: Wendy and Nicholas from Glasgow, Margaret and Heather visiting from Rugby, a long video call with Kim and Dave up in the Borders and of course the local catch ups with friends I hadn’t seen over the summer. A chamber choir concert – a colleague and other acquaintances – was a different experience in Castel church. A few days of supply teaching at the local state school, after my unexpected full-time stint at Beechwood came to an end and of course continuing to get the garden under control before the winter.

I have also started hosting ladies’ breakfasts again for friends and acquaintances from church. I have  been astonished at how popular they are…It’s always fun, giving me the opportunity too to bake and is a joy and encouragement to gather together.

But, apart from swimming, the Rugby World Cup dominated the month. I put significant matches in the calendar but managed to see most of the matches, especially after the pool stage was completed. I had one delightful encounter when on supply. A nine year old boy came up to me, peering at my earrings proudly sporting the All Black logo of the silver fern (I wore them constantly throughout the tournament).

“Are those NEW ZEALAND rugby team earrings?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, unprepared for what was to come next.

“That’s BAD. I support South Africa.”

“I’m very sorry,” I whispered back. “And congratulations for yesterday.” The South African rugby team had just won a quarter-final the day before. He grinned. I’ve known him for a couple of years now, and he’s still one of my favourite children in the school.

The final result – New Zealand versus South Africa – was disappointing, especially when a wonderful All Blacks try was disallowed on a very minor technical issue. Several weeks later, match officials admitted privately that they had been wrong… but anyway. The All Blacks, despite being one man down – a red card which, again, might not have been upgraded from a yellow card had the referee on field been allowed to make his own decisions – lost by only one point. They had played bravely with only 14 men for most of the match.

There was no doubt in my mind which was the better team but, to be fair, the South Africans needed to win, so desperate were they for their country’s national pride. The All Blacks, as always, were the epitome of good and gracious losers. What an inspirational team ethic they have, standing head and shoulders above the others.

It was somewhat of an anti-climax when it all finished… but the Christmas movies were about to start…

 

Super September

September 2023

The month began really well – still in France! Didn’t return to Guernsey until the 3^rd, to glorious hot weather. My birthday was the hottest I can remember and, in a bonus, I was not at school!

So of course I went blackberry picking and then for a half km swim in the sea at Rocquaine.

The blackberry picking started quite well. However, the Pleinmont brambles are among the most unfriendly and inhospitable I have yet to meet. They tried to hide any juicy, ripe blackberries under prickles and behind nettles; thorns came at my fingers unseen, swiping hard and leaving thorns buried deep under the skin; and each spray of berries only yielded one or two ripe ones, the rest remaining stubbornly hard, red and unripe.

I persevered, but my heart wasn’t in it. I usually love the mindfulness of blackberry-picking, along with the silence, but that day I encountered a coachload of cruise ship passengers coming from the gun, a group of serious elderly men, striding along with walking poles, and a couple of German tourists I recognised from the ferry over from France. Still, it was lovely to be able to do it and rarely go to Pleinmont headland, so nice to have a different adventure.

On the way to the beach, I decided to go down a narrow footpath to a friend’s field. When we had open air church in July, I had noticed quite a few brambles in the hedgerows and so thought it would be a good place to investigate. I gathered a few along the lanes as I went there and by the time I had finished, had a 2 litre boxful – enough for a start on the Great Jam Making of the season. So all was going, well, until I took a Wrong Turning and ended up in a part of the woods I had never ever been before.

It was around midday when I started on My Great Birthday Adventure. I was lucky to get out before darkness fell….

I knew the general direction to go – downhill – so off I went. The path became progressively steeper and rockier, winding around in circles until suddenly some steep steps appeared. No other way to go – except back and up. No ordinary steps either, but ones made for giants, hewn out of granite and put in at irregular angles. The rain had evidently tried to find its own way down, carving out gullies at the side, but that was of no help to me as I carefully hauled my heavy bike, hand firmly on the brake, down beside me.

It just got worse. Eventually I could see tarmac, but at that point there was only the narrowest of footpaths – me or the bike, and of course the bike won – and to even step down onto tarmac was pretty difficult. Then, on the last metre, as I had managed to step down and was about to lift the bike down after me – said bike refused. A hefty branch had come out of nowhere and stuck its fingers between the bike’s spokes, halting it very effectively.

That took quite a bit of time to disentangle.

Even Richard, who often walks the dog in the general area, had no idea where I had been.

Otherwise, we spent the first week busily unpacking the house and catching up on huge machine-loads of washing. The ironing, of course, is another matter… I may be finished by Christmas.

Not joking. Having got back to school for a day, I found myself taking on supply in Year 6 for a colleague away ill. Diving in at the beginning of term wasn’t ideal for me or for the children, disappointed not to be getting ‘their’ new teacher, but they are a lovely class and we all got on well together. It was a bit of a juggling act with my usual day and a half, but the weather was kind and I enjoyed being back in the classroom with agreeable children, teaching a variety of subjects – including P.E., organised by my lovely colleague Pete who gave me lesson plans and great ideas. I had taught all the children before in their way up the school, so it all seemed quite easy. What was especially lovely was that the management were very grateful to me for stepping in, going as far as to give me a card and a huge bunch of flowers. Quite unnecessary, but much appreciated.

All useful pocket money… so we decided to go to Tanzania in December to see Finn and his parents. Deep breath – the flights were three times the price we paid for them just after Covid – but it seemed a good opportunity.

In other news: I hosted a ladies breakfast, after an eighteen month gap. There were a dozen of us – almost too many to fit in the dining room, but the weather was so hot that we sat outside, although we needed to retreat into the shade as the morning progressed. It felt really good to reconnect with friends old and new, gathering together around the table…

We had an ‘old’ friend, Peter, come to visit. His primary purpose was to experience the Guernsey Air Show, which he was able to do in stunningly clear and warm weather. He was absolutely thrilled by it all and hugely appreciative of everything he did, especially the Air Show, the German Occupation Museum and the Little Chapel. We even managed an evening beach barbeque with a marvellous sunset!

And the swimming! Still ‘warm’ – 18 degrees – and so I managed quite a few swims down at Rocquaine, even in the evening after work when it was beginning to get much cooler.  Such wonderful exercise.

The month passed quickly… by the end of it, had almost straightened the house out after the summer away, although still lots of little niggly projects to get done, and a mountain of ironing…as well as dealing with piles of windfalls collected on hedge veg. I expanded my repertoire of apple recipes very rapidly!  The Rugby World Cup had started, so proved to be wonderful entertainment while I got some of these chores underway…and more to come next month.

Autumn hadn’t, yet, arrived. The weather stayed remarkably warm, with some days so hot and sunny that we could sit outside – Wendy and Nicholas were down in Guernsey from Glasgow and we were able to sit on the patio over an alfresco lunch all afternoon, catching up and sharing our lives… a precious friendship. I finished my spell of supply – it had been great fun, with a wonderful class and the added bonus of being able to feel more part of the school and connect with my colleagues on a more regular basis than I am able to normally, only coming in for a day and a half each week. The gardening jobs were slowly completed and I began to catch up with friends once more.

A very different pace from the previous two months, but hugely enjoyable. Being busy is energising. Yet we still had time to enjoy moonlit evenings and see the super-bright morningstar, our house’s namesake, shining in the eastern dawn.

Traffic - me on the bike, and one car - stopped when this friendly moggy occupied the centre of the road. He moved off to greet my bike with ecstatic purrs and much rubbing against the wheels.

Duck jam on my way down the lane.

Pickle sitting outside the guestroom, mournfully hoping that Peter will appear.

It's still summer outside church!

Jumpy, Helter-skeltery July

What could go wrong….? Jumpy July

After a busy, but relatively calm June, we started July with a visit from Finn. His lovely parents, Jonny and Adele came along too.

Who knew that an eighteen-month old could be so much fun! Intensely serious, he spent a lot of time looking around him, his brown eyes huge as he observed everything that was going on. And EVERYTHING was intensely interesting.

He soon discovered that Richard’s old mobile phone was The Best Toy out. He made phone calls, took pictures, used it as a calculator… all in play, of course. He found that the buttons made a most satisfactory noise when pressed. What’s not to like?

We had had a couple of days at home with them before decamping, literally, to the campsite. Our huge 6 man tent was perfect for Finn to run around in, providing plenty of play space.  That was nothing compared to the beach, however. It proved to be love at first sight and the biggest playground ever. He ran around, shouting ‘Whoa! Wow! Wowa!’, stopping to look at every interesting thing. His body language was amazing as he pointed out objects of interest with a variety of body contortions, only sometimes resorting to actually pointing. Sand pools were paddled and lain in, sand sifted through his fingers (it was as if he was trying to clear the whole beach!) and buoys and fishing boat bobbers examined with deep interest.

He enjoyed the campsite swimming pool, as well, as did I: I managed a daily swim of at least half a kilometre every time, which did wonders for my arthritic knee. #loveswimming

In addition, there was a playground: Finn climbed up the slide easily, working out which was the best way up, but the bark ground cover was possibly the most interesting feature. The site also has Rosie, the Vietnamese pot-bellied pig, two Large Whites, who spent most of the day lying together in their wallow, occasionally struggling up and lumbering to the fence for a back scratch when Richard snorted to them; two friendly inquisitive goats and a variety of curious chickens, roosters and turkeys.

It was a wonderful time: we were intensely sad when they left, going on to England to see Adele’s wonderful family. Our sadness was a little relieved by some pleasant interactions with Vanessa and Jean, friends we have come to know through the campsite, and Manuel and Maricarmen. The latter had driven up from Gibraltar with their tiny caravan, taking four days to bring luggage for their daughter and son-in-law who were cyclists competing in the Island Games. As they each had two bicycles to bring, it made sense for Manuel and Marie-Carmen to help with the luggage.

Manuel and Marie-Carmen were the friendliest of campsite neighbours. Very chatty, we got on like the proverbial house on fire – it felt as if we had known each other for years. Manuel had done a huge amount of research on Guernsey, finding his way around most impressively, but we were still able to help them a little with local advice, how to get a local SIM card, and give them a lift back from town after the opening of the Island Games.

The Games had not been held in Guernsey for 20 years and there was a huge amount of excitement and publicity about it, with over 400 volunteers helping in different ways. We drove, at Nicky’s suggestion, to meet her and Richard at their home on Mount Durand, leaving the car there and walking down with them into town.

We were somewhat early – not as early as many, as town was already very full of spectators by the time we arrived – and had to wait for over an hour before the ceremony even began. Speeches, mingling of the waters each island team had  brought with them and the raising of the games flag all preceded the athletes parade through town. Still, it was well worth the wait. The atmosphere was wonderful and it was fun seeing many friends and acquaintances, from our hairdresser who was opposite us, to children from school, acquaintances leading the teams along, proudly bearing the team’s island’s name, to Scott, my colleague, a football coach marching with the Guernsey team. Very special.

We met up with Manuel and Maricarmen, wearily trudging up the hill and collapsing into bed almost as soon as we returned to the campsite.

However, July brought an undue amount of stress on top of the usual busyness, through a series of Unfortunate Incidents.

The last day of her stay in our house, Adele sat on the toilet seat, cracking it. Fortunately, we had a spare. Last year a guest had broken the toilet seat so our friend Bryan very kindly went and bought a replacement. On our return, Richard fitted a soft-close one instead, figuring that it would be harder for someone to actually break this, keeping the replacement ‘just in case’. Very Useful, as it turned out.

Then, two days before we were due to leave for France, Richard developed kidney stones, enduring such intense pain that he was propelled to make a doctor’s appointment. (As every appointment costs over £60, we are always reluctant to go, but needs must… But the CT scan the doctor organised for him was free. We do have quite a wonderful health service.)

By the next day, he was feeling much better, just taking the strong painkillers once when it looked as if the symptoms were returning. We left, trusting that ‘no news is good news’ and that the surgery would contact Richard if the scan had thrown up any issues.

The same day, I had a long awaited specialist appointment to see about my ‘trigger finger’, which had become progressively worse. At times, indeed, the finger was ‘stuck’ bent and on one occasion almost refused to be straightened. The surgeon explained that he could either try injecting it with cortisone – which might nor might not work, and, if it did, might only last for six months – or perform a short 10 minute surgery. Which did I want?

“Which would you do?” I asked.

“Well, I always try the injection first,” was the reply.

“OK then, that’s fine.”

“I can do it now if you like?” was the quick response.

“OK then!” I happily replied, thinking of a quick solution and no further visit needed, especially as I was going to France in 2 days time.

‘Just a little prick.” was actually intensely painful, leaving a small bruise and so much stiffness that I could barely move my hand afterwards for the first 24 hours. It made cycling a little tricky…

Coming back to the house the day after, to do a quick changeover between guests, we had a hectic few hours. Anni and Beth popped round to collect keys and discuss the changeovers, looking at the bedlinen and cleaning materials left out for them.

We discovered a bird’s nest had been hidden under the tiles for years before collapsing onto the floor of the loft. Quite a lot of mess to clear up, with a tiny amount of daylight visible where a tile had shifted slightly, but apparently nothing to worry about. It had happened a long time ago – possibly even before we moved in 7 years ago, and the birds’ nest had been hidden under the old sarking (the old webbing underneath the tiles) which was slowly disintegrating with age. We – Richard – will fix it when we get back. We only found it as we heaved the tent back up, along with various other camping items, from Jonny, Adele and Finn’s visit.

A good thorough clean of the house, with our Island Games competitor guests from the Falkland Islands arriving early by 1pm. Cathy Pollard (no relation) was competing in shooting, accompanied by her husband Mark, a Falkland Islander politician, and their two delightful little girls. Lovely to meet them.

Added to all the usual stress of trying to remember everything we had to do in preparation for being away for a couple of months, was the need to get the car back home from the campsite. Not ordinarily a problem, but our road was to be closed that day for the first of the Island Games cycling events, a triathlon. Sunday morning, when we returned the Skoda, was a huge rush to get back to and then away from the house before the road was closed.

Finally…. In the middle of all this, was an emergency dental appointment to get an aching tooth filled; the usual end of term busyness, where I had extra supply for a couple of days at Beechwood (not arduous, but time-consuming); and an undue amount of grief, as my friend Carry retired from the school and we had news that Mel Walton, a former head’s wife, had suddenly died of an aneurism. They had left us 6 years previously, but had stayed in touch ever since, so it was a huge blow to the school community.

It was with a huge measure of relief that we found ourselves at the port, ready to board Condor to St Malo. And yet the stresses were not over. The Animal Health Certificate, Pickle’s ‘passport’,  had been wrongly completed. We only discovered this on arrival at the port but, fortunately, the details had been correctly entered into the (now extinct) Pet Passport. Rather annoying, when we had to pay £190 for the privilege of taking Pickle with us to France. Still, cheaper than kennels and we wouldn’t do that in any case. A hurried email to the vet, hoping that he could email amended details well before our return in 2 months’ time…

And breathe. And wait. In hope!