Thursday 4 November 2021

Outstanding October

October began with a delightful day of supply, teaching 5 year olds. (It should have been 6 year olds, but I was glad for the switch over – they were good fun.) It was surprisingly satisfying and I enjoyed meeting younger siblings of older children in the other department of the school, who I see once a week for R.E.

The weather was true Indian summer, continuing almost unbroken from September. There were a couple of unpleasant days, but otherwise it was absolutely beautiful. Sarah and I spent many afternoons sitting at the top of Petit Bot beach, drinking tea after a refreshing swim in the crystal clear waters between the cliffs. We could have been on a tropical island.

Almost every day was a cycle ride, whether to school, the beach for a swim or just ‘for fun’. The Nerines – the Guernsey lily – exploded in the garden and the flowering shrubs yielded a good crop of berries for the birds.

As for the ‘unpleasant’ days: well, one was just a day of rain and winds lashing the windows. A friend called round and we enjoyed coffee, conversation and good catch-up for a couple of hours, snug inside. It was almost unbelievable: the previous day had been sunny, warm and so calm that the silence was almost unnerving. Strolling in the garden in the evening, the expected rain seemed unreal.

The second day was in fact a night: strong winds arrived by evening, Force 7, expected to gust to Force 8. But by 11pm it was evident that the wind was much stronger. A north-westerly, the bedroom window received the full brunt of it, so much so that the decorative metal heart which hangs against the glass started to rattle and soon the wooden bower – which was screwed to the wall to stop it banging – also made its presence felt.

The next morning revealed that many trees had come down, blocking roads across the island. I foolishly tried to cycle through the lanes on my way home from school and found myself having to turn around and find an alternative route a total of three times. How I managed to get to school safely, only needing to negotiate the debris of leaves and twigs, is a mystery and it was only afterwards, reading the Guernsey Press, that I realised how difficult the morning commute had been for many people.

Then there were countless bird sightings. First, a grey wagtail, unmistakeable with its long tail, grey upperparts and yellow vent at the base of the tail, hopping around the edge of the motorhome hard-standing. A pair of silver pheasants, strolling through the grounds of one of Guernsey’s many wonderful farmhouses, just a mile or so away. Many other pheasants clucked in the neighbouring fields or delighted with their wonderfully colourful plumage: some of the cock pheasants in particular seemed incredibly tame.

And buzzards. Seven one day: one after an early morning swim, calling above the hill as I cycled up; five circling over the house; and a final buzzard near the airport on a cycle ride. Coming home from school, I glimpsed one sitting on a fence post: as I drew near, it rose lazily into the air, the underside of its wings unusually white. We have seen this one before, around its usual hunting grounds near the riding club which is on my commute to school down ‘Chemin du Roi’ – the Road of the King – which goes past Forest parish cemetery.

As for the greenfinches: a ‘charm’ of finches. They swarmed the hedges, in particular in the field below the ‘lookout’ at Le Grantez mill in Castel. The site, with a ruined mill which was demolished by the Nazis so that their bunker would have an uninterrupted viewpoint, overlooks Vazon. The base of the Victorian mill, which fell into disuse at the beginning of the last century, has recently been rebuilt by prisoners, who have done a marvellous job.

October. Outstanding.