Foggy days

Its Sunday morning and that means we are watching CBeebies - the the BBC childrens channel that runs all day and only has programmes for under 5 year olds and no advertisements.  Evie only watches on Sunday morning and she loves it all, I think her favourite is Charlie and Lola.  My favourite is Timmy Time - about a delinquent lamb called Timmy.  http://www.bbc.co.uk/cbeebies/timmy-time/  He makes me laugh which is quite a feat early on a Sunday morning, or any morning for that matter.


The FOG

Fog at midday (chimneys incidental but they're good ones
aren't they!)

The fog has been going away and then returning - a day might start foggy and be clear by lunchtime or the other way around.  I was walking to get Evie from preschool on Friday in the sunshine after a nice warm morning in town, I turned around to cross the road and the fog was literally creeping up the hill behind me.  By the time we left pre-school 10 minutes later it was up to the school and we walked all the way home in it.  It sort of reminds me of Taumarunui  - all those foggy mornings walking to the bus stop and only actually getting there by listening for the other kids voices coming through the murkiness.  But its much more unpredictable here because its a sea fog which rolls on in from the English Channel at any old time.


Foggy days mean that sometimes afternoons are long after Evie's sleep so we did a couple of fog outings.  One was to the big garden centre called Le Friquet, its a huge oval shaped building with a garden centre, pet shop and cafe (always a cafe in our outing destinations).  All the way there Evie was chattering away about going to the bull pit - I had visions of some sort of ring for bull fighting or cage fighting.  However it was really the 'ball' pit she was aiming for - much safer but still had an element of chaos and the noise was horrendous.  I soothed myself with a coffee and Evie had lots of fun and most importantly expended lots of energy.

The Bull Pit

The child has no fear and a great
sense of balance

And then she jumps

The next day Cherie suggested a beach visit - in the fog, although to be fair she didn't realise just how foggy it was.  I got instructions on how to drive to another of their favourite cafes, The Beach House, on Pembroke Beach or l'Ancresse (see below for explanation of that one).  Only one wrong turn (why do they not put street names up - at least on the main roads, its so simple...) and we were there is 10 minutes, on the other side of the island.  Cherie told me the cafe was in a building that sort of looked like a bunker - the 'sort of' was quite an understatement and the name  'Beach House' was also misleading - it wasn't exactly the quaint little bach like structure by the beach the name implied, it was in fact a concrete bunker.

The Beach House cafe 

The coffee was pretty good, maybe I was just relieved to be out of the fog, and we had sponge cake.  I bought a lollipop for Evie (she told me she thought it might be better not to tell mummy or daddy about the lollipop) which lasted, according to her, for 'ages'.  The beach was actually quite incredible if you looked in  the seaward direction and not back towards the land (very ugly high concrete seawalls).  I think Cherie has forgotten just how basic our beaches are in Wellington and much of New Zealand - she described this one as 'nice', I thought it was amazing and can imagine it being really beautiful in the summer.

Pembroke/l'Ancresse Beach in spring

Imagine this scene WITH sunshine, deckchairs, stripey wind 
breaks and men with hankies on their heads

Towers - every bay should have one, this one
has three 

The sand is like the sand you think of when you
think of sand - golden and grainy with a few
pebbles and shells, a natural version of Oriental Bay.

Just a few rock pools

I said don't look landward

Lets not tell mummy and daddy I had a lollipop - lets tell them
you gave me a stone Bronie.

This lollipop is taking AGES to eat.

Many place names in Guernsey are written in both english and french, as are some information signs.  There is also a local language which is recognised along with Irish and Scottish Gaellic, Welsh and Lowland Scots as a regional language.  Guernésiais (or Dgèrnésiais, Guernsey French, or Guernsey Norman French), is the variety of the Norman language spoken only in Guernsey. It has its roots in Latin but has had strong influence from both Norse and English at different points in its history.  Apparently only 2% of the adult population speak the language today, the reason being all the children were evacuated to the United Kingdom during World War II in 1940.  They remained away for over 5 years and spoke only english for that time so when they returned most had lost the local language.  In the years since there has not been much interest in re-claiming the language - there are no Guernsey versions of kohanga reo or language nests.  However in the last few years lessons have started in all the primary schools.  
Bizarrely French is the administrative language of Guernsey - for example if a lawyer wants to become a Guernsey Advocate he or she must pass a difficult exam on laws that only apply in Guernsey and just to make it that little bit more unattainable its in French!

Mentioning the war.....
Try as I might I can't write about Guernsey without 'mentioning the war'.  War has been a huge part of Guernsey history - not just WWII but dating back to the islands very origins when the poor old neolithic farmers went outside one day to find a whole load of Britons (from Brittany) had landed on the beach and were planning to stay on for a few hundred years (sound familiar??).  In 933 the Channel Islands (then part of the Duchy of Brittany) were 'annexed' by the Duchy of Normandy.  In the Middle Ages they were invaded by various naval forces and (far more exciting) pirates!.  In the English Civil War Guernsey sided with the Parliament (Jersey was royalist) but the Governor and some royalist troops occupied the castle in St. Peter Port and as a result got bombarded by the townspeople.  In 1704 Louis the XIV tried and failed to invade.  In WWI a fair proportion of the islands men served in the British Expeditionary Force.  And of course in WWII the island was occupied and became part of the Atlantic Wall - it is this occupation that forms the basis of so many of the tourist 'attractions' on the island (numerous museums, monuments, fortifications ) and is the subject of so many books. 
NB:  none of the above historical information should be relied upon for anything - its accuracy is dangerously close to that of Blackadder's take on Elizabethan England.
And just to prove that history is a living thing heres a little something I found about Pembroke Beach/ l'Ancresse AFTER we visited on Thursday:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-guernsey-17028516

The defensive tower in Pembroke/l'Ancresse
Bay, (Loophole tower no. 6 or 7, there are two in the bay)
 one of 15 built in the 18th century when
the Brits were getting a bit worried about the
French invading AGAIN.

Random things about Guernsey

Wandering around St Peter Port I have found some things which make me stop and look twice - then take a photo, so here are some of the photos.

Chimneys:
There are chimneys on most of the houses and for some reason I find them attractive - especially the way there is more than one per house, all stacked next to each other.  My first response was, and this is true, 'Those will come straight down in an earthquake', then I realised they don't get earthquakes here.  Weird.   I look up at them and wonder how many fireplaces there must be in each narrow little house, how many bedrooms and 'parlours' with a fireplace.  I love the way they are square at the base with the little individual terracotta pots on the top, the pots don't always match either.  Still - wouldn't want to be standing under them if the big one comes....just saying...

Every home should have at least three

This one holds the record to date - 10 and none of them matching

Boats

OK - I spent a few days on a boat sailing over Christmas so I'm a bit more aware of them than I was before Christmas but there is no escaping boats on Guernsey once you are on the waterfront in St Pater Port town.  They are everywhere, there are several marinas and they are chocka block with all sorts of sailing vessels from dinghy to yachts to launches and fishing boats.  It is an island nation and boats are still very much part of the life and scenery of the island.  When the fog closed the airport over the weekend the only way on and off Guernsey was by ferry ( and they booked up real fast).   On a beautiful spring day like today as I wandered down the waterfront I couldn't resist snapping a few shots.

Dinghys resting in the sunshine

A wee working fishing boat

A few not-so-much-for-work boats

Looking back to St Peter Port

More boats than you can poke a stick at

Chimneys AND a boat!

Tiny hidden streets:

Walking anywhere in the town you come upon little streets, tiny streets the width of the average driveway in NZ, you stand at the end and look up to see rows of houses, both sides of the street, where many St Peter Portians  live.  Of course I know that this is how much of Europe lives but they still take me by surprise  - the scale and size of the houses is so different to anything we have at home - not tiny but small, often 3 stories high and all attached to each other.  Their front doors are right on the footpath and half a metre from the street or actually right on the street. They are painted in various shades of yellow. blue, grey and green, with some brick and stone houses thrown in for variation.  Its such a different way to live but the only way to live when space is so limited and people have been living in a place for so long.  Its like a pastel rainbow version of Coronation Street  but without the factory, Rover's Return and Ken Barlow.

 Coro Street - not

One way and a footpath on one side - luxury

A week of it

Another week has just flown by.  Last week was a full pre-school week - which meant that each morning Evie and I walked to pre-school, a journey of 10 to 15 minutes.  The time it takes varies for several reasons mainly whether or not the man with the dog is walking at the same time, in which case we have to greet the dog, say hello to the man and then discuss the weather, traffic and how the dog is feeling.  The road we walk up is very busy at 8:45am and its quite a task keeping Evie off the road and out of the traffic - not because she is being naughty but because the footpath is only about a metre wide at its widest and often it is level with the road.  The traffic is right up against the edge of the footpath and several times I have been very grateful my arm wasn't taken off by a passing bus or truck (I mean lorry, when in Rome etc etc).  There is one section of footpath which I swear is just over a foot wide.

On the way to pre-school - thats the narrowest footpath I've
ever seen

Street, footpath, granite wall - just enough
room to walk single file

So far we have managed to get to and from pre-school without incident.  The walk home from pre-school at lunchtime is another story - I think the word 'amble' describes it best, we stop at every garden, bus stop, seat and driveway.  We pass a house which is surrounded by 'deep dark wood' where Evie has to look for monsters (although sometimes its aliens for some reason), we look into the garden on the corner which has a few new crocuses up every day, we count the numbers on the doors and gates and we always go home the 'sneaky way' (which means a few more minutes but we get to pass the water sprout which Incy-Wincy Spider goes up and down - and yes, we sing the song every day we pass it which the old men going into the pub for a lunchtime pint across the road seem to find quite amusing).  

Outside Evie's school -The Melrose Ladies College
of Guernsey!

All those railings are too tempting for a three year old
monkey

I usually take a walk down to the town while Evie is at pre-school and last week it wasn't just to get coffee.  We had no car for the week so I was doing a daily grocery shop at the Marks and Spencer food hall - which I love.  Its sort of a food boutique - all fresh but packaged to the max.  Oh and I also managed to squeeze in a coffee at Costas each day.

Upstairs at Costa

During the weekend I went for a wee walk to the farmers market - didn't quite understand how far it was and how much of the 'far' was uphill.   It was in St Martins which is why I guess James did offer to take the car but I thought a walk would be more enjoyable.  Took almost an hour to get there with Evie in the pushchair.  Adding to the adventure was the weather - fog, it settled on the island for two days closing the airport.  St Martins seems to be like a secondary shopping centre - has its own M and S supermarket, a few other shops and a tea house which was very welcome after the long damp walk.

  

Saumarez Mansion - in the fog
and under restoration.

Traditional (and typical) stonework
cottages in St Martins

I love this little corner shop - they laugh
at you if you call it a dairy, thats where
cows live.

The road to St Martins - that isn't a hedge
 on the side of the road, its a  mound of
solid earth cleverly disguised with grass.

A lovely semi-detached on the way to
St Martins

You've got mail (well, some of you will sometime in the next few weeks)

It was a quiet weekend but a lovely one with the family.  The weather has taken on a distinct pre-spring feeling with warm sunshine and crisp air.  Evie started again at pre-school on Monday at the 'Melrose College for Ladies', I walked her there with James the first day to be introduced to Mrs. Dodd and Mrs Reynolds who were both in their proper places, Evie is convinced they live at school and never leave the property.  They are lovely and welcomed her with hugs and smiles. I had visions of Chilton all over again but its quite different (at pre-school anyway).   She bounced off into the classroom and I wandered home then down town for a coffee - life is so hard.  Went back at noon to pick her up and all was well, she galloped home, read all the numbers on the houses we went passed and then promptly went to sleep for 3 hours. 

On waking, she reminded me that we were going for coffee at Costas - a sort of Guernsey version of Starbucks which offers consistent coffee - sorry but thats the highest praise I can give to any coffee I've had so far over here.  Evie has a baby-cino, the chocolate one and demanded I remove any of the froth from the top because she only likes the milk part.  I have pointed out that perhaps she is missing the whole point of the cino experience but she still needed me to remove the fluffy-bit.  By the time we were walking home it was almost dark and very chilly, not that she minded in her snug-as-a-bug stroller.  And the uphill walk home warmed me up considerably.

Today I had to break it to her that we weren't going to Costas after her sleep and she took it quite well, obviously not addicted yet.  Instead we wandered down the road 50 metres to post our postcards.  Some of you will be aware of certain issues I have with posting things and the postal system in general - the fact you can stand in line for half an hour at the only Post Shop in Lower Hutt does my head in and I avoid it at all costs, even driving to Petone at lunchtime to avoid the Hutt.  You will therefore be pleased to know that in general I am very impressed with the Guernsey postal system.  They have little dedicated (i.e. not banking/bill payment/car registration combos with the odd bit of postage business on the side), post shops all over the tiny town of St Peter Port, including supermarkets - its genius.  And the staff are helpful, handing over airmail stickers by the sheet without being asked for them 'You'll need these too won't you?' - I certainly did.

Small confession - did have an amusing postal related moment just to remind me that postal systems and I do not really work well together.  We got one of those 'we tried to leave a parcel but you weren't there' cards through the letter box - oh, almost forgot, I LOVE getting mail through the door, you hear the gate swing open, footsteps on the steps and then the lovely wee squeak of the little door thing as the mail is pushed through the slot.  I always wanted one of those (as well as push up and down sash windows, which they have all over the place here).  Anyway, back to the parcel notice - scrawled on it was some indecipherable writing at the top and all the printed information about how to retrieve the item.  I got very brave, worked out the route on my iPhone map app and went when Evie was having a sleep (she has lost a little faith in my pathfinding ability and I didn't want her even more disillusioned if I got lost again) - got there in 10 minutes, all filters and one ways negotiated successfully.  Felt very proud of myself, sauntered confidently up to the counter of Envoy House, Guernsey Post HQ and handed over the card.  Lovely man in uniform looked at it and said 'Yes, its in the shed'.  'Oh right and where's the shed from here?' I asked confident I could get anywhere on the island now and the shed had to be close by anyway.  'No love, its IN THE SHED, see at the top it says Parcel in shed - you have got a shed I assume?'   Wheels start to turn and my mind wanders back to the front door and the under the stairs cupboard right next to it.  Oh how we laughed together - then I got back in the car, went a completely different route home because the one I came was one way of course, looked in the cupboard and there was the parcel.  A small reminder to me never to relax when parcels and postage are involved.

Anyway - the postcard expedition was a lot easier and much more successful - see for yourselves

At the front door, postcards in hand

    

Just checking the addresses are all correct before we
leave the property

10 metres from the front gate, wee rest

Ok, into the final 20 metres galloping all the way

OK, now for the hard part

Almost but not quite - needed about another
foot but made do with a lift from Bronie

Home again (oh, please note the position of the
aforementioned 'shed' - yep, that white door next
to the watering can, so close and yet so far)

Has it really been a whole week??

I can't believe its been a whole week since I came to the island, its gone by so fast yet it seems like a long time if you know what I mean.  Its been mid-term so Evie has had a whole week off preschool.  Its been lovely to have her home for the week and we've found lots to do.
One morning we had our first real High Street visit - we came by car and parked in one of the seafront carparks.  Even parking is different here - you have this little cardboard thing which you have to leave on the dashboard indicating the time you arrived, which determines whether or not you get a ticket when the very official looking parking warden comes around.  I'll take a photo of the 'cardboard thing' and put it up.  Its an honesty system but most people observe it and many get tickets as a result - Hutt City Council should perhaps investigate it as an option for making even more money on parking tickets.

Evie and the waterfront area with marina
alongside

Typical Guernsey buildings and shops

The waterfront road is parallel to and below High Street where most of the shops are but some of the bigger shops have entrances from this street and that wonderful invention called a lift which takes you up to the shopping street in comfort.  Thats if you can find the right floor - they have a very quirky way with signs by each lift which describe the various floors e.g. lower basement food hall, basement menswear, first floor access to High Street and womens wear etc.  Then you gaily step into the tiny wee lift and the buttons are marked completely differently UG3 (underground??), UG2, UG1, 0, 1,2,3, whats on UG 3 I wondered and is 0 access to HIgh Street or some mystery floor with nothing on it?.  If you want to just go straight to HIgh Street you can use one of the half dozen sets of steps, between buildings.  Some are light and wide and very inviting while some are very dark and dingy.

That gap between the two cream
buildings is a set of steps up to High Street

Evie thought it would be better to take the lift so we entered the Cresney Department Store on some random floor (maybe UG2.5), got in the lift and got out at every floor  trying to find the exit to High Street.  We ended up in the cafe on what I think is the top floor and decided to have a coffee and a custard square to refuel ourselves for the next round of 'Guess the floor'.  I thought I was in a Doctor Who episode where the humans are trapped on a shop-like planet with no exits.   But we did find the escape hatch eventually and found ourselves on the cobbled street - right next to Marks and Spencer, the following photo is for you May, hope you don't get too teary eyed at the sight of your favorite shopping destination.

Marks and Spencers - fabled UK department store

High Street is nothing like its namesake in Lower Hutt - it has shops and people and cafes and all sorts of things retail and commercial.  There is not an empty shop to be seen and they don't even need a night market to liven things up.  

People everywhere and not a golden arches
in sight

Evie and her doggy-in-a-bag practising her balance bar technique

And before you label me a negligent great-aunt you need to know that there aren't any vehicles in High Street so its perfectly safe for Evie to walk on the curb balancing herself with her doggy-in-a-bag accessory item.  

The street is full of small department stores, jewelers, cafes and restaurants, shoe shops (essential for buying all those ugg boots everyone wears over here), banks, a few surf shops (can't imagine it ever gets warm enough to surf but it does) and some of those stores selling things you didn't know you needed until you saw them in the shop.  Its quite lovely and quaint but also fully functional - sort of like a mall with the top off, oh thats right, we used to have those in NZ then we got Westfield. 

There is no McDonalds or Starbucks, they set up a Burger King but it didn't survive because the locals boycotted it!  Anti-globalisation is alive and well and headquartered in Guernsey!!

After wandering around and then down the street we worked out that the street was actually on a bit of a downhill slope and we could get to the waterfront by just walking down a few steps at the bottom end.  Bit boring compared with the mystery tour lifts which Evie reminded me of all the way back to the car.  

Here now

I left the plane and walked onto an icy cold island in the middle of the English Channel.   I had to go through a second version of Customs - just to remind me that this is an island nation not just another part of the UK.  Having successfully negotiated that very small hurdle I was there - actually in Guernsey and there was James waiting.  I should have been a bit suspicious then, he was dressed in a big black coat, scarf and gloves, as was everyone else in the airport.  It was definitely winter and not the Wellington version.  We drove on narrow roads passed fields, glasshouses, stone cottages,  and whitewashed cottages from an episode of 'All Creatures Great and Small'  It was on this journey that I encountered my first 'Filter', a form of intersection control (or lack of control) where all the road rules are abandoned and cars go through the intersection on a 'first come first served' basis.  I could not believe it when James explained it to me but after passing through a few of them I had to believe him, it looks and feels like chaos but apparently it works, somehow.  I'm not convinced but I do have to apologise to May who I scoffed at when she told me of such things - however May that rule still doesn't apply in the back streets of Petone so don't try it again.

Then it was home to Bird House - the official residence of Princess Evie and her parents.  She wasn't actually home yet but I got to spend time with Cherie as I waited.  It was so good to see her but also quite surreal - here we were as far as you can get from NZ chatting away as if I had just popped round for a coffee.  The flights, the time difference, the distance all melted away into insignificance.  And then Evie arrived and it felt even more surreal, this wee girl who I saw born, who I have seen only once again when she was 18 months old, jumped on my knee as if she saw me every day.  It was simply lovely.

Since then I have been quite busy - Friday Evie, Booboo the giraffe (in his own pushchair) and I walked down to town, unfortunately walking back up the hill proved a bit much for Booboo and  the wee one but we made it.  My first impressions of the town - incredibly busy and actually quite crowded (due as much to the width of the road as to the number of people I suspect), coffee was decidedly below average, people were friendly (and helped us find our way home after a few wrong turns) and the hill home is deceptively steep (its the pushchair for Evie next time and no Booboo).
Saturday James said he'd take Evie and I for a drive but then  handed me the keys as we approached the car - best to get the first drive over with I guess but it was quite an education with such narrow streets and very unforgiving stone walls on the edges of those narrow streets, not a great combination.  We drove down to the waterfront, out into the middle of the island and down to the beach on the other side for tea and cake at the Cobo Beach teahouse.

Cobo Bay General Store

Leaving the tearooms - note the ubiquitous pebble front
 lawn, so much easier to keep than grass

Cobo Bay beach - yes thats a horse in the distance much to
Evie's delight 

Looking a little Mordor-like when the tide is out

Beautiful white sand and big black rocks

And Sunday was off to the local church - for those of you with an interest, you can imagine the church Adrian Plass describes and you wouldn't be far wrong.  I think I saw Mrs Flushpool and the vicar made some great jokes (conjunctivitis.com - a site for sore eyes, to name just one you would have loved Peter Muller).  Highly entertaining.  

Today Evie and I had a big adventure - we went to the supermarket together, Waitrose.  Cherie gave me instructions and I got there with no trouble even though it was through one way streets, a number of filters and a few weird detours due to road works.   Waitrose is a medium sized, New World-like supermarket with good food and a coffee shop (always a sign of a quality retail outlet) which we started at with a baby cino and a cappuccino with an extra shot which greatly improved the taste I think.  Like a local I met one of Cherie's good friend there (she saw Evie of course and assumed I was the aunty, I had seen her and her family in many photos and knew who she was  - very amusing, no introductions necessary).  The trip home was a bit longer than expected and Evie kept asking me if our house was nearby - I honestly had no idea.  I will elaborate on the one way systems and lack of street signs in another episode, but we did get home eventually, ice cream a little worse for wear.

Opps nearly forgot - Evie and I had our first Fairy craft session and as promised here is the princess tiara and necklace.