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!

Snow days.

First Mate’s log, Morningstar, SnowDay 3. 14.05 hours.    A Gift of Days

The blizzard has been gently raging for a few hours now, with no sign of abating to the promised rain or sleet. What started as snow grains rapidly changed to smallish flakes, settling on everything they landed on.

There is power in small things which stick together.

We had already had snow a couple of days ago. Some snow had come and settled over the night; all was icy, but once traffic had started to flow – a couple of tractors, some 4-wheel drive vehicles – we ventured out.  School – unlike most on the island – was still open for business, much to our surprise, so we had to brave the chaos. The normal twelve minute journey took forty...  A few hours in school, then the snow came again, more thickly this time, so, finally, we were all told we could leave: and so... back home again.

School snow day! Fun!

Half an hour later, the sun came out, we felt guilty, yet the temperatures started to drop quickly and soon the ground surfaces were treacherously slippy.

That night, a three quarter moon silvered the frozen snow. The road was like glass. A blissful silence, in the absence of traffic of any kind, hung over the fields. And no wind at all, the air seeming to hold its breath before the storm.

That was the first SnowDay, albeit only a half. By evening, The Authorities had decided that school should not open the next day for fear of ice. Good to know in advance. I put an extra duvet on the bed....

Come the morning, Snow Day 2 dawned crisp, cold (-2 degrees) and sunny. We barely needed the heating as the sun flooded through the windows, shiny sparkling on white gorgeousness.  It all looked wonderful: yet the wind roared fierce, cutting up the cliffs and across the fields. The road cleared so we chill-walked the lanes, still slippy in the shadows, banks and hedges covered in icy drifts.  The wind chill factor must have been minus ten degrees, or more.

Robins, puffed up to keep warm, hopped around the bird feeder. One sat on the trellis against the wall, soaking up the sun’s rays, quite motionless while others scuttered around the tree above it.

Inbetween, I checked through our Christmas cards and emails, making sure that I had caught up with friends and acquaintances scattered round the globe. Best of all, I was able to reconnect with our housekeeper in Kenya: we had not heard from her since we moved house, so I was fearful that we had lost touch altogether, but I managed to get a text through to her and received a quick reply. A wonderful relief.

It was a great day for washing: the wind blew the moisture out as rapidly as if it had been the summer, but by late afternoon the still-damp jeans had turned as stiff as boards.

And my dear neighbour Nicky came round for tea: scones and laughter, much chat, great fun. So great to have this time to be able to spontaneously extend hospitality. (I am trying to make #40Acts of kindness a permanent lifestyle choice...What Would Jesus Do?)

The day seemed gloriously long: yet a blizzard was forecast, so once again, The Authorities decreed that School Would Be Closed.  Not complaining...

And so it came. Later than expected: we had thought it would blow throughout the night, but there was, initially, no fresh snow. Then it started...The wind blows the snow in huge gusts, eddying up and around the house, whirling dervishes brandishing icicle swords, swooping at bushes, cutting through pockets of shelter...

I have walked out to the bird feeder several times, replenishing food, brushing off snow from the remaining seeds and topping up the bird bath with warm water so the birds can drink. All other sources of water are frozen.

Each time, I step in pristine snow: my footprints have been obliterated, as if I had stayed smug inside all morning with no care for wildlife. Blackbirds have been skulking this morning, hesitantly hopping through the underbrush. The snow bears witness to occasional panicky rushing in circles out into the snow and back. One female cautiously hops onto a branch, observing the bird feeder fearfully before finally plucking up courage to leap down and snatch a crumb.

The leaden skies bear no hope of reprieve. The snow drifts on endlessly.

A few vehicles rush by, skidding through slush. Otherwise all is quiet save for the howling of the wind, fruitlessly seeking crannies in corners through which it can invade. We are warm inside. The dog huddles next to the radiator.

These few days have been a welcome reprieve. ‘Normal’ life feels full: good, but full. We go from one project to another, from this meeting to that, sharing life, constantly occupied.

These days are for stopping. For catching up with neglected tasks. For reconnecting, by email and in person, with friends. There has been time to have tea with a neighbour; a phone chat with a distant friend; writing emails and letters;  organising gifts.  Sorting stuff. Clearing out. Resting.

A gift of time indeed.

First Mate’s log, Morningstar, SnowDay 3. 16.05 hours.

The snow has abated, bringing rain in its place. We rushed outside as the snow eased to build a snowman: two adults, laughing like hyenas, rolling loose snow balls to form a huge snow bear. Pickle, reluctantly joining us, grabbed the Spirit of Snow and tore round the garden, weaving in circles in and out of bushes and across the lawn. Too much of a tempting target for snowballs...she waited reproachfully by the front door for us to finish adding the potatoes for eyes and a rather short nosy carrot.

Back safely inside. Rubbed down, warm and dry. Fire lit. Light beginning to fade. Snow starting to melt. Another gentle, relaxed evening....

First Mate, Signing out.

January: jeepers!

Not reached the end of January yet, but, well, jeepers!  Today is YET AGAIN WET, MUDDY, FOGGY and MISERABLE.

Dog walking has, at best, been a dodge between showers or a walk in the rain. Access to the cliff path has become impossible without gumboots, so we have been exploring the lanes behind the house.

We’ve managed not to get lost, despite our neighbour referring to the area as The Bermuda Triangle. He has a point, but we are definitely getting a feel for the Wrong Direction now and usually manage some pleasant circular rambles without wandering too far off track. Time, too, to stroll along the seaweed-strewn beaches, left ravaged by the storms. Vast swatches of sand have been washed out by fierce tides, exposing stripes of prehistoric peat or forgotten rocky slipways.

We have had this weather for at least a month now if not longer, interspersed by just a few drier days.

I can’t even say DRY, because they weren’t, really. Some cloud, a little sunshine at times, the days growing imperceptibly longer until now, more than a month after Christmas, Spring does indeed feel less far off than before. Daffodils have been blooming defiantly for some weeks, robins are making their presence known in the garden and, on the way home yesterday, a crowd of sparrows in a stand of bamboo sounded like a flock of weaver birds on their nests.

So, some hope of better weather, then. Today is foggy, but the log burner is lit and glowing, reminding me of Christmas.

We began the month with fierce thankfulness. Cat and Andy had left us the day before but we were SO glad to have had the gift of ten days with them over Christmas.

So we kept telling ourselves that.

Practising gratitude, holding the sorrow of parting in loose fingers.

Keeping busy – I was back at school (only two new initiatives so far this half term, another new one planned for March), Richard preoccupied with various home projects. (More of those later...)

Meeting friends. We hosted on half a dozen occasions; went out to dinner a few nights, catching up; got together for chats over tea. Precious relationships.

Mike and Clare came round to help us cook a special Indian meal, using spices from The Spicery, a mail order subscription spice kit which Cat gave Richard for his birthday... This one was BBQ India.

Dum Aloo

Homemade mango chutney

My signature naan breads.

Laughter and light and warmth in the darkness.

And some lovely moments. Possibly the best, for me, was a story from a friend who teaches some of the boys I had in my class a couple of years ago. The boy suddenly said, in the middle of a Maths lesson, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Mrs Pollard!” (A good thing – he is glad to have passed his entrance exam and so was able to go on to the secondary part of our school.) Teaching is so strange... we pour ourselves out to the children we teach, year after year, enabling and equipping them to continue to grow and develop. Yet we rarely encounter them again and very, very rarely do we ever know the impact we have had. So many celebrities talk about the teacher who encouraged, challenged or inspired them to greater things, but for most of us, we never know what effect we have had.

On the home front, Richard has been delighted to have, he hopes, solved the problem of mould we have in our bedroom. Morningstar is a lovely warm house, made more so by the wood burner Richard installed shortly after we moved in. As a consequence, it is almost draught-free and so condensation has tended to develop on the window and wall of our north-facing bedroom, resulting in a little black mould which, left unchecked, threatened to spread to the ceiling and back of furniture.

Solution? A continuously running, low noise, efficient, extractor fan in the bathroom and some efficacious chemical to paint on the wall which has removed the mould completely and claims to seriously inhibit its return.

We shall see, but we hope so.

The other ongoing project has been the repair of the garage side door, which blew off in one of the many storms which have blown over our island in the last few weeks. The latch had been rather ‘iffy’ since we had to replace the lock in the summer (the lock had jammed shut, just a few days before we were due to go away) and so a strong gust caught the door one night and ripped it off its hinges.

Clever Richard has repaired the wood, turned the door upside down and is waiting for ‘outside working weather’ to finish re-installing it....

Add to that: fine-tuning our house listing on Airbnb ready for summer guests...