June already - no joke!

 June and half of July…

 The beginning of June saw us start to get the house ready for going away, spring cleaning as much as we could and trying to keep up with the garden which, in true Guernsey fashion, was exploding with growth.  Keen to get it all done before Jonny, Adele and Fabulous Finn arrived, we interspersed house and garden chores with looking after our Airbnb guests from Switzerland, happily esconced in our guest ‘wing’, various church activities – making scones for the café, serving coffee on a couple of Sundays and, for me, attending a seaweed products promotional evening. Naomi Tustin, a friend from our home group, runs the seaweed food side of The Seaweed Company while her husband creates skin care products. Quite fascinating.

 Add in hosting my monthly ladies’ breakfast, meeting up with a friend for Bible study and prayer every Friday, catching up on Zoom with my brother and some close friends, and meeting  Guernsey friends for supper – busy.

 Of course, I also spent time gathering things for Finn’s visit: a tiny wetsuit, small toys and a potty from Sarah and larger toys – including a buggy, a slide and a music mat – from my colleague Claire who lives nearby.

 The family were with us for a wonderful three weeks. We spent more time on the beach then we had done in three years – a source of endless delight for Finn and for us as we watched him constantly entertain himself with exciting discoveries and experiences. Finn enjoyed the children’s pool, where we could put his feet down, while Jonny went off on runs – including a practice 70km plus run all around the island.

 Water – or liquids – was a bit of a theme. Swimming. Sea. Swimming pool. Finn – water play is a favourite activity, so the beach toys were put to good use along with various cooking implements.

 Another strong theme was Breakdown, Repairs and Replacements.

 First off was the dishwasher, which had been progressively underperforming for some time. We blamed the tablets, the programme in use, the stacking (over-stacking is a regular feature, as we are the King and Queen of Cramming Everything In. (Not just regarding dishwashers, either…)

Anyway, the dishwasher eventually just stopped working altogether. At least, it ran – cold, and didn’t clean anything.

 After much internet research, a bit of you-tubing and a lot of testing out various theories as to What Had Gone Wrong, we came to the conclusion that it was time to replace it. It has been a great machine – a Kuppersbusch, along with the other kitchen appliances – but was at least 11 years old, if not longer, so time to replace.

A quick trip down to Valpy’s and one was on order. Had to wait a week, which involved an awful lot of washing by hand, and then it arrived just a few days before we were due to move out before our first guests of the season arrived.

 Eschewing the prospect of paying an additional £80 to have it installed, we decided to do it ourselves. How hard could it be? Quite hard, actually. It took 4 hours, which included a trip back to Valpy’s to a) but a socket to plug the dishwasher in, and b) to ask about some parts which appeared to be missing. Turned out they weren’t: said parts were on the installation diagram but didn’t actually exist. We got there in the end, refitting the concealing door and leaving out only two of all the screws supplied. Phew.

 In the interim, the sink developed a leak. It had had a crack since we moved in, but obviously the pressure of a sink full of soapsuds and dirty dishes caused water to seep through underneath. 

 I really didn’t mind having all the cleaning fluids and recycling bins scattered round the dining room while we scratched our heads, wondered if it was repairable and researched the cost of a new sink (over £400!! Eek!). In the end, all was solved with a little Sink Repair Glue - superglue in disguise - underneath and a wait of a couple of days to make sure it had dried.

 Before and after this, Richard struggled with the water system in the motorhome which had stopped. Was the pump broken and needed replacing? No. Was it a fault in the taps? Didn’t appear to be, although the motorhome taps have microswitches and cost upwards of £130 EACH.  Wiring or the electrical relay? Perhaps, but most of the system was inaccessible. Internet research again yielded similar experiences , obvious or useless suggestions and a lot of head-scratching. The most useful tip was the guy who got so fed up with his issue that he gave the pump a good welly and got it all working… In the end, Richard did something similar and got it all working.

 For a week or so. Then it gave up again, with no water coming out of any of the taps.  Probably a loose connection somewhere in the wiring, but, with only a few days left before we were to leave for France, we didn’t want to spend the time or effort in pulling everything apart. (All the seat cushions out, hatches lifted and too many tools scattered all around. No, not going to happen.) The solution was to wire a connection directly from the cigarette lighter, which would pump water when the engine was switched on. Or using a water carrier for everything instead. The last option seemed the most practical, so we filled up a collapsible jerrican and were set to go.

 The final ‘liquid’ issue was when, after filling up with diesel, the cap wouldn’t go back on properly. Hmmm.  A lot of fiddling, and after 5 minutes or so R managed to lock it.

 Having said all this: I am SO thankful that everything happened when it did. A new dishwasher just before we were due to go away means, hopefully, a RELIABLE dishwasher which will do its job and won’t break down. So thankful that all the issues didn’t happen a few weeks later!

 By mid-July, the house was ready to leave. It seemed that every nook and cranny had been scoured out – multiple times, as spiders and flies crept back into the house every time we turned out backs. J, A, and Finn left just before to spend time with Adele’s lovely family. And so…. Off to France. See you in September!

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!

 

 

Majestic May, Journeying through June

Back to more regular blogging… and the month kicked off in majestic fashion with the coronation on May 6^th. There was a fever pitch of excitement from the media, huge interest in the royals and much gossip about them, and an impressive display of military splendour. I watched most of it, as it was such a historic occasion. Quite impressed by the service in Westminster Abbey – more churchy than I was expecting, somehow, though why I should be surprised I don’t know, as the coronation has always been a religious ceremony. Much of the symbolism passed me by, but it was, I suppose, all quite spectacular.

Until I found out that the British taxpayers had footed the £100 million bill. Don’t tell me that the royal family bring in billions if not trillions of foreign visitor money… I’m sure the Eiffel tower and the Colosseum do something similar for France and Italy, though perhaps the maintenance costs might be comparable… hmmm.

Apart from that, life continued. Richard’s birthday saw us enjoying sundowners down at L’Eree, the sun so warm against the wall that I even contemplated a swim… but settled for a paddle instead. The sea temperature, after all, is still 12 degrees. #toocold

We started the process of preparing the house for our summer guests, catching up on spring-cleaning, gardening, and completing fiddly little jobs and bits of clearing/sorting out.

The motorhome got a new seal on top – the old one having become brittle and in danger of cracking. It did take two of us pushing and pulling, but it was surprisingly easy to do – no dramas at all.

The pot plants were topped up with compost and fed. The geraniums had survived the winter pretty well, but several were still looking ridiculously leggy and needed another trim – hopefully they will bounce back by June. I planted out more osteospernum cuttings on the bank, in they hope that they will take and then spread, providing colour instead of the grass already there. (The grass needs a good trim.. but I put the shears ‘somewhere’ in February and they have not yet emerged from their hiding place. I have NO IDEA where they are.)

The vege patch (I won’t dignify it with the term ‘garden’) on the other hand, is producing only a magnificent crop of rhubarb and a few straggly spinach plants which have immediately gone to seed. But I have pruned and tidied plants on the patio, helped by the disappearance of the ivy from next door which was always trying to invade, so hopefully the wonderful clematis (large, early-flowering – a Nellie Moser?) and the jasmine we planted a couple of years ago will take off. The ‘Super Fairy’ is also becoming quite prolific, just needing some careful feeding to fulfil its pink potential – looking forward to those hundreds of blooms in a couple of weeks.

Other satisfactory events included acquiring a new set of patio furniture through the wonderful second-hand pages on Facebook. Our previous chairs had lost their plastic coating and were completely rusty, so it was a wonderful find, along with a useful pair of sandals and some summer clothes.

I began to pick up more supply teaching, including in a new school; home group started again, always so good to be together; and, of course, the weather began to improve, though much of the month was characterized by a very cold wind, tempered by the sun.

Not so satisfactory was selling the Micra. On the plus side, we did get a little money for it rather than having to pay to have it disposed of. And it went to a delightful young man who fell in love with it. He had spotted it as he drove by, so drove in, rang the bell, and asked us to sell it to him. He was a huge fan of Micras and I did feel it went to a good home. He even asked its name! We couldn’t help noticing his skip of delight as he bounced back into his car when he collected it. But still… it had been my trusted companion for nearly 19 years. I had even, when our friend Stuart prayed for us when he dropped us at the car auction, had an inkling that we would end up with a red Micra. (I don’t like he colour red and a Micra was not necessarily what we were looking for, but as soon as I sat in it, I KNEW.)

The other not so satisfactory occurrence was being laid low for 4 or 5 days with a virulent stomach bug… Bizarrely, my sister-in-law in Cambridge seemed to have had exactly the same at the same time.

And then a Godincidence: my close friend Tricia from Guernsey, at a conference in the UK, met my ‘sister’ Catherine – my close friend from VMM days, with over 40 years of friendship under our belts. Not only that, but both Tricia and Catherine lived in Tanzania for a while… #lovethis

June saw a lot more sunny weather – but oh, the WIND. Strong – force 5 – 6 for a couple of weeks – and a cold north-easterly. We are able to find several sheltered spots around the house but it was generally very wearing and it seemed that summer was definitely tardy, although the western parts of the UK experienced wonderfully warm weather.

We were busy, though. Our first guests were due to arrive on 10^th June, whereupon we would decamp to the campsite in the motorhome. Working steadily through the jobs needed to prepare the house and garden, we were able to get everything finished in time, which is surprisingly satisfying.

The guests were delightful, very friendly and helpful – they even offered to water the plants. They had decided to travel by bus, but I was able to give them a lift towards the supermarket when they arrived and someone else, seeing them waiting for the bus one day, gave them a lift into town. Indeed, when they left, the same lady (I eventually worked out that I knew her! #typicalGuernsey) took them to the airport as she was collecting her sister on the same flight. #suchaGuernseything

Our week at the campsite was delightful. The winds had dropped and it was WARM. And it is always a pleasure to reconnect with people we know there, particularly Jean, Vanessa and Paul who we first met in 2020 when they were camping next to us. (Not visitors: local residents who help out at the site in the summer.)

And there was more supply teaching, which worked out well. Coffees with friends. Sea swimming – one week I managed to swim every evening when the weather was particularly warm – up to 25 degrees, one day!

The water was cold, but not too painful. I quickly ditched my shortie wetsuit and eventually managed to go in without gloves as well, though the neoprene boots are always useful – protecting my feet from the inevitable stones in the sand.

Back home more gardening, more sorting and cleaning, finishing off various motorhome jobs, catching up with friends for dinner on various occasions and enjoying the weather before Jonny, Adele and Finn visited at the end of the month.

Wonderful.

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....