Peninsula Hotel, Grand Havre to St. Martin’s Point
A 15 min flight and I’m in Guernsey. There is something about a take-off and almost immediate landing that seems decent. No flight crew wandering about doing daff flight crew things. No time to leave the seats, as the seat belt sign stays on the whole time. No plonks running up to the toilet etc. If only they were all this way. New security machines in Jersey too. All painless. Not so the old knee. Ligaments hammered tight this morning but we motor on. I should really stop whining. Don’t you think?
The hotel seems to have its own dedicated Lifeboat.Le Grand Havre from the hotel.Oh Dear! The wicked witch of the west has zapped Dorothy and all that is left is her ruby slippers (which may have been bleached a little by the salt laden air).Le Grand Havre in all its glory. I’m sure it was more impressive back in the day when full of sail.Jesus Christ! The Torrey Canyon is still poisoning things. How the fuck did it end up here?From the end of the bay. The hotel is the red slate roofed building in the centre, but you probably can’t discern it.Towers and bunkers everywhere. Not only Napoleon but some pre-Napoleon, What was there to defend? What was so precious?Ah! The little mermaid has left a message for Eric to be seen when the tide recedes.There are 5 towers and a German strong point in this picture. You can sort of understand the Hun. Each commander over the 4 years, would arrive and want to put his stamp on things. Design new works etc. to keep the troops busy. The rest where a waste on money old Boney wasn’t interested.I’ve been seeing a few of these yellow H’s here and on Jersey. They are to ensure that the locals know which foreign fucker has hired a car. Brill idea.Pembroke bay. Barbara Windsor photo-bombed me. Didn’t know she holidayed in Guernsey.More and more. Maybe I should stop boring with this shit.Are they feral. Do they bite your legs from their attack position in the grass. The rest is irrelevant. If you’re tooling along and a golf ball comes at your head it will hit you before you can see it and react.Good fucking luck with that mate. The sign is at my eye-level which means that a fair percentage of the pops can reach their mitts to the top of your anti-climb painted wall and haul themselves up.The idea is that all drivers are restricted to 15 miles per hour and must give way to pedestrians and cyclists on these “Calm Routes” or in Jersey “Green Lanes”. But somebody needs to tell the taxi drivers that, because everyone of them – and there have been 5 to date – has driven down them like a bat out of hell and damn the “greenies”.All spruced up Thomas the tank engine carriages for the renting.As if they didn’t have enough to do – what with drunk drivers and mad taxis in the Calm Routes – now they’re having to give out swimming advice?Me old pal, free ranging chicken, and one of the cliff-loving ram’s harem.Jethou on the right (private – no point in trying), Herm on the left (Thursday) and Sark in the background (Friday).Bordeaux Bay but not a drop of the red stuff.You can’t read it but that is the Alderney lifeboat up in the air. I suppose they could borrow the one from in front of the hotel.Post boxes are painted blue. Haven’t seen the pillar ones in the flesh yet, just on touristy things. Also the old red phone boxes are yellow – apparently.St. Peter’s Port in view at last.Right. Steel bars to stop things going out or coming in? I’m not sure the door hatch helps the problem.The ship has been buried beneath the roundabout but still proudly flies the flag.Aha! Not just one.I’ve had a latish lunch, for a change, and I am carrying on. “A well lit and air conditioned …” The restorers or the Germans? I continue down this road on the advice of the Guidebook fucker. Trusted him again and again got shafted. The paths are all closed – rock slides.The south wall and Castle Cornet. As well as, by chance, a nice little Honda hatchback and the Victorian Gentlemen’s bathing pool.The Council was split of the whole rainbow gay thing and compromised.The Lady’s and children’s pools. Far enough away so no chance of seeing any indiscreet knobs.The Clarence battery and some old guns.The view from the sentry post.Heinrich the gay knocked out this gloryhole from the bunker’s latrine. My he was hoping for a big boy.Loads of steps on the slopes. Concrete so probably back to the Germans.Fermain Bay and I think that will do.It seems that I was lying to myself again. Bring on the fines and keep those 2-wheeled bastards out of my way.Sark in her glory. I’ve got to do all her cliffs is one day. In fact in 8 hours if I’m to get the boat back same day.A private duck pond and the ducks seem happy to stay.Deep in this wood lies a fairy’s house and some giant Christmas decorations.St Martin’s point and the end.Except for having to climb that to reach the road. Fuck Me!I’m at the hotel for drinks and a sit down to await my nightmare taxi and guest what?
