Shake it all About!

There's nothing like an earthquake to liven up a holiday.  So where was I when the strongest tremor for over 80 years happened on Friday?  Only 25 miles from the epicentre of this 'quake, which measured 4.5 on the Richter Scale and, guess what?  I missed it!  Like many, it seems, the first I knew was when people were talking about it over the evening meal.  A variety of personal experiences appeared in the local media, of course.  "We thought it was a large lorry going past."  "My poor parrot fell off his perch; he took a while to start talking again!"  "I said to myself 'that can't be next door's washing machine on spin.'"  The Greffier of Alderney (an official rather like a Registrar) said that "it felt just like the sonic boom we used to get at 11.0 each morning when Concorde was flying to Paris."

And where was I when all this excitement took place?  To the best of my recollection, I must have been enjoying that sausage roll and milk shake at 'The Mermaid' - a place of refreshment on the Island of Herm.  This was the last leg of this year's holiday: visiting three of the Channel Islands.  Many years ago I visited Sark, famous for the absence of motor cars and the quality of its dark skies, and from time to time have yearned to go back there.  Since about the only way to get to Sark is via Guernsey, it seemed a good plan to see something of that island too, and while I was about it, why not look at Herm, too, since it's midway between the two?  I put together a programme for the week, which I stuck to for the most part, whereby I stayed at a wonderful hotel at St Martins, for five of the seven days, and spent the other two at an equally delightful, but totally different, guest house on Sark.

I won't bore my readers with lots of pictures - little can match the boredon of someone else's enthusiasm over their holiday snaps!  Many of mine show the sea, an island or two, and the glorious blue sky which crowned the week, with the exception of 'soggy Saturday' when I arrived wondering whether or not I was going to enjoy the experience at all, and the rather reticent sunshine of yesterday which, while still warmer than home, was a little on the cooler side, with mist over the sea, and a few spots of rain to say goodbye to us in the afternoon.

I had debated whether or not to take my van with me to Guernsey.  One consideration was the comparison of the ferry cost and the car-parking fee at the port.  One aspect I didn't consider was the roads.  The surface of most roads on Guernsey is very good.  Road markings are different from the UK, but consistent, and helpful.  Having chosen the cheaper option, I travelled either on foot or by using the bus service; I quickly learned that, in rural areas, the bus stops aren't marked by signs on posts, but are written on the road!  I also quickly appreciated that many roads are much narrower than I'm used to and, unless you can pursuade your Range Rover to breathe in, you're better advised to leave it behind.  I've lost count of the number of times that my face was only inches from the hedge, or wall - and how thankful I was that there was a window between us.  Likewise, too, the occasions when the bus had to mount the kerb to allow a motor to pass.  One morning, about five minutes were taken up as both the bus and the oncoming small lorry were manoeuvred to and fro to make best use of someone's drive!  It's easy to see why there's an island-wide 35mph speed limit!

After that note of caution, and relief that I had left the van behind, I have to conclude with the associated tale of woe . . . and shame, as a professional driver.  I wondered whether the van would be safe left unattended for a week, so I parked it conspicuously in the middle of the park rather than at one side.  What I hadn't considered was the possibility that I might forget to make sure the radio was turned off.  A year or more ago, I overlooked this on Friday night, didn't need the van on Saturday, and found on Sunday that the battery was flat.  Since then I've had a new battery, and have tried to ensure that I turn the radio off every night.  So far so good, until last Saturday morning.  You've guessed it!  The excitement of the holiday departure thrust routine completely aside, and it needed only a moment last night to guess the reason why my door wouldn't open as I pressed the key!  Good old AA!  I had a moment's fright as I realised that my membership card was one of the 'won't be needing that' things that had been left at home for safety.  However, they were quite satisfied with post code and registration no., and had someone with me in under an hour, with the happy result that the van and I arrived safely home about 1.30 this morning.

What was that about work tomorrow?  Dash it - holiday's over for another year!