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There is quite a lot that you can touch, at the Alderney Museum, so long as nobody is looking. My toddler touched his first taxidermied animal! It was a blonde hedgehog. At first I thought that it was a toilet brush or a little loofah that somebody had left lying around, and shrieked when my toddler grabbed it with his pudgy little grabbity handsies! Agh! He loved its!

How wonderful to be such a small island with so much history, and most of it is neatly held in the museum. There are hard parts of history that Alderney has endured. It is not easy to hold the weight of each and every artefact from the Nazi Occupation, the collection is heavy on the heart be warned.

One hundred things to do in guernsey when the rest of the world has gone to sh*t! No.11 The Children’s bathing pool, La Valette

A bit choppy this morning!

This morning we ventured out into the storm for a swim at La Valette. It was divine! Just as it had started to rain it was time to get out. The waves were pretty raucous and it was lovely to pootle about in the guarded pool.

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100 things things to do in Guernsey when the Rest of the World has gone to Sh*t! No.6 Let get political, political! Let’s get very political.

“The place where the story happened was a world on the back of four elephants perched on the shell of a giant turtle. That’s the advantage of space. It’s big enough to hold practically anything, and so, eventually, it does.
People think that it is strange to have a turtle ten thousand miles long and an elephant more than two thousand miles tall, which just shows that the human brain is ill-adapted for thinking and was probably originally designed for cooling the blood. It believes mere size is amazing.
There’s nothing amazing about size. Turtles are amazing, and elephants are quite astonishing. But the fact that there’s a big turtle is far less amazing than the fact that there is a turtle anywhere.”

I have often been suspicious that Guernsey exists as a world on the back of four elephants perched on the shell of a giant turtle. We have covid activity afoot, perhaps somebody has flouted isolation on return from a faraway land by nipping to the shops to buy a pint of milk and a packet of B&H? Who knows, but this all happened within a turtles fart of our Sir Lord and Saviour Gavin St Pier being toppled from the lofty heights of power by “Everybody’s Dad” (seemingly, although that sounds like a some kind of dapper nineties indie man-band, time will tell). Life is strange in Guernsey at the best of worst times. Deputy Ferbrache has taken the wheel for now. We raise our tea mugs in the mornings with a smile as we think about the faces who fell, Mother Mary, and Matt the Milk. I wonder now they are doing nothing, no longer powerful figures in the village (by village, I mean the Island of Guernsey). Politican watching is a favourite sport, and if you listen close enough to the local rumour mill (meat draws are hot beds of gossip) you can learn to speculate wild rumours of your own doing! Love local life! Live, gossip, love! I imagine that Terry Pratchett could have told the story of Saint Gav’s road to the backbench better than me. Hopefully this new assembly will not suffer humiliation at the hands of the electorate, or each other, before their time is up. And, hopefully they remind each other that bullying is not actually a style of leadership.

#livegossiplove #lovelifelocal #dontgoalllordofthefliesthistermplease


Le Creux Mahie is a place of legendary tales: a smuggler’s haunt, secret passages and a haunt of elves and fairies! An underground passage is said to lead from the cave to Saint Saviour’s church, and according to folklore it contains a table, plates and mugs all made from stone and laid ready for a great feast (or, a post Barbie-Bestival brunch! Yes!). A band of robbers are also said to have lived in the cave, and made forays into neighbouring farmland to steal cattle. What can be said with more certainty is that the cave was used by smugglers, as recently as the end of the last century. Thomas Picot, the rector of Torteval and Forest parishes in the middle of the 17th century, used it as a place of meditation until his unorthodox methods led to his dismissal.”

Words and map are taken from the ‘Guernsey Coastal Walks and Scrambles’ guide

“Mahie’s cave is the largest in Guernsey, being nearly 50 yards in length and up to 60 feet high. It used to be called Le Creux Robilliard, named after the family that owned the cliff land above it… It can be accessed from the Torteval Post Office. Take the road towards the sewage plant (just around the bend). After a short distance take the unsurfaced lane on the left to a small car park. Head right along the cliff path to a fence, then follow the track behind this down a ridge and then back left. The cave can be seen at the foot of the cliff. There have been large rockfalls in the past, so don’t hang around the entrance admiring the view!”

A set of neat steps lead under the narrow entrance (the relics of the guided tours which took place in Victorian times). Once inside the cave we are relatively safe from rockfall. At the back of the cave is the talus slope and near the top of this are several tunnels through the blocks which are fun to explore. One of the has a particularly memorable tight squeeze, the nearest thing Guernsey has to pot holing! Old clothes are essential for exploring the cave. The guides illuminated the caves with torches made from dried furze, and the soot is still grimed everywhere. “

If the tide is low enough there is a pleasant scrambling east towards Les Ecrilleurs, or west a short distance towards Les Tielles. Here, if there is a swell and the tide is around the halfway mark, the waves create a blow-hole effect as they crash in the undercut rocks.”

There are some articles on the Priaulx Library here:

Just make sure the tide is out!!!

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Herm Island

Herm Island, July 2020

“I think you know how to love better than any of us. That’s why you find it all so painful.” (Fleabag, Season 2)

Reading The DailyMail’s postscript on Caroline Flack all I could think of was Tracey Emin’s ‘Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963-1995’. They had listed all of the people Caroline had dated. Wow, they had forgotten of all of the times she had lit up television like a star on top of the Eiffel Tower. I was bowled over by her recent stint as Roxie in ‘Chicago’ that takes grit, sweat and talent. The moves she won Strictly with were incredible, again, that doesn’t come easy. This was all forgotten. But that’s not even why I was thinking of Tracey Emin. Emin, who got the power, and a Turner Prize for her unmade bed. I thought of Emin when I heard that Caroline Flack had taken her own life, hounded and pursued by the media, trolls and tabloid trash. Russel Brand is a hero for being a womaniser? Be a woman, get complicated by loving with all of your heart, and you’ll get rocks pelted at you by media trolls until you feel like you want to die. I think Caroline knew how to love better than any of us, that’s why she found it all so painful. Tom Hardy had a ‘past life’ and he’s a sex god on the silver screen who reads stories to children. In my life, I have turned up to work with bruised knuckles because I have punched walls repeatedly, until I bled. I have also not turned up to work because I blacked out on wine and had only a vague flashback of being waved goodbye at the traffic lights at the bottom of my road in broad daylight having only gone out for a couple of beers the night before. I am guilty of doing some pretty bad things that at the time made me feel better – unprintable things, unspeakable things, things that I’m not proud of getting away with. I also spent most of my life turning the pain I felt inwards and taking it out on myself. Reading between the lies/lines  in the press I can feel Flack’s self harm howl. I could feel it all on Valentine’s Day, the despair and sadness was palpable. The air felt heavy, there were strange vibes billowing about the gibbous ether. The pressure to be in love and not broken apart, was so heavy you could feel it. Flack’s vivacity and vulnerability are a stark warning. Where are we heading? Letting women who love with all their fierce heart hang for it? I don’t want to be a spectator in a sport that I don’t subscribe to, without my heart breaking if we can’t stop anything like this happening all over again. Trolling and tabloid trashing is a clear and present danger to society along with the lack of care for people in pain, who love and hurt. It’s heart breaking and must get better..


Tracey Emin I do not expect and Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963-1995

And, that all made me think about Phoebe Waller-Bridge and ‘Fleabag.’ Amen to Fleabag, for all that she has done for womankind. Blessed be Hilary and the Hot Priest. We should celebrate our inner fleabag, love it hard and accept it. We can make bad moves and life will go on, life will find a way, however dangerously. Women can fall from grace, or be angry and filled with fierce, fiery rage, and continue to love life deeply and live life with courage.

I got fleabagged by my best friend, she ignored me for a decade and then explained, in glorious detail exactly why she had ignored me for a decade. I was a douchebag in my twenties, to myself and other people, in equal measures. I was a shallow whore, who had her moments – that was how my best friend had described me and I had never argued with that. Her significant drug habit never really came into that conversation, or other bad stuff that she had created and walked away from in equal measures – that didn’t matter to me. Hey ho, I am married now and have a baby so ‘fuck you’ is what I would feel like yelling at her if I ever saw her again! I think that is just social conditioning though so I would let those thoughts simmer down and probably just compliment her about her hair. Whilst I was struggling to breast feed my tongue-tied little one last year, sleep deprived and anatomically devastated by an emergency c-section (I don’t have a ‘franken vag’ by the way, I have a Harry Potter scar) I found ‘Fleabag.’ And, Fleabag cut through the postpartum landslide of my life and made me laugh again, I laughed a lot. I just feel that Caroline ended her life without knowing how much the world needed her, in the same way that we needed Tracey Emin’s bed and Fleabag. We are perfectly flawed. We need that depth of being every emotion, rage or shine.

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