I am not sure
exactly how or when to start this story, the story of my life. I have
wondered who on earth would be interested enough to read this, a
simple story in many ways, an adventure in others.
I have loved,
lost, hated, hurt and experienced tremendous joy, as have most of us.
So, what makes my story any more compelling than millions of others?
I don't know, but people who know me, and who know at least a part of
my journey through life have told me on numerous occasions to write a
book.
So, heeding to the
superior intellect of my friends and acquaintances, here I go..
CHAPTER ONE
Where it all began
I guess any story
that is telling of a persons life, should begin when and where they
were born.
My family hails
from a small Island in the English Channel called Guernsey. The
Channel islands consists of Jersey, the largest, then Guernsey,
Alderny, Sark, Brecqhou, Lihou, Herm and Jethou. The islands are some
25 miles off the coast of France and 78 miles south east of Weymouth
on England's south coast.
These islands are
now British, having been swapped from French to British and back
numerous times during their history and many bloody battles fought
for the right to them.
Although they
each have their own independent governments, the locals are
considered to be British Citizens. They are still somewhat considered
a tourist attraction for people who want the “feel” of France
with a British attitude and language. They were the only British
territory ever occupied by the Germans in WWII.
Very picturesque,
beautiful, and peaceful places. Guernseymen will of course argue that
Guernsey, is better than all the other islands, as will all the
inhabitants of all the other islands similarly argue that theirs is
the best. An argument that will forever continue and never be
resolved. All the islands are beautiful in their own right and each
has a uniqueness to be proud of.
The islands are
prominently French in there ancestry. Each is broken up into
Parishes, which are areas separated into local governments much as a
small town would be or on a larger scale, the States in the USA or
maybe English Counties. Guernsey has ten of these Parishes. Forest,
St Andrew, St Martin, St Peter Port, St Sampsons, Vale, Castel, St
Saviour, Torteval and St Pierre Du Bois. The States of Guernsey, has
chosen representatives from all these Parishes, and governs the
Island.
Guernsey, has a
local population of around 60,000 people, is approximately 9 miles
long, 5 miles wide and 25 miles around the coast. We enjoyed a
temperate climate due to the southern proximity, Spring, Summer and
Fall all reasonably warm. The winters wet, cold, very windy and
sometimes spectacular with the ocean waves crashing ashore, sometimes
up to 100 feet high. It is very rare for snow to affect Guernsey. I
can only remember it snowing twice in all my years there.
Guernsey, is a
fantastic place to grow up, crime is, or was in my day, almost non
existent. In the summers of my youth in the 60's and early 70's, it
was not unusual for me and my friends to take off on a gorgeous
summer morning as early as 6.00 am, Beg Mum, for a bob or two to buy
food and pop then just take off to “play” all day. Often, we
wouldn't return until the sun went down. Sometimes we would ride our
bikes all around the island. We would head to one of the many
beaches, depending on what the tide schedule was that day.
Bordaux, which is
a picturesque small harbor on the north east coast, surrounded by
rocky crags and smaller islands, with a perfect view of the islands
of Herm, and Jethou, just about two and a half miles away to the
East.
A Perfect place to
play Pirates, in a “borrowed” dingy, (We always moored them back
where we got them from),usually someones Dad's, or someone we knew.
or just explore and have fun. This has always been, and always will
be my favorite place on earth. My Mum used to take us here as kids to
play and make sand castles, learn to swim, gather Limpets and cockles
from the rock pools, along with small crabs and the occasional small
fish.
We loved the small
“Treat Stand” where one could buy, Ice cream, Popsicle s, bottles
and cans of Pop and Soda, Sandwiches, Chocolates and potato crisps.
Mum, would give us a list, give us money and off we would go to get
the goodies. One of these places could be found at most of Guernseys
beaches, some sold “Tea Baskets” and fresh baked goods along with
all the other stuff.
Then of course
the ever reliable Ice Cream Van, who came around selling soft served
Guernsey churned Ice Cream. We would try to impress our Mum's, and
of course any girls nearby, with daredevil leaps off the huge Tommy
Rock, in the middle of the harbor. This immense rock formation is
about 100 feet tall on low tide, but when the tide is high, it will
get to within 10 feet of the top. From half tide onwards, we would
brave the short, but current filled and sometimes cold swim across,
climb to the top, or the less adventurous “Chicken ledge,” at
about 10 feet below the top, and dive or jump into the sea over and
over again. Some kids have been hurt over the years by doing this
before there was enough water (no saving stupid I suppose), in the
harbor. For anyone trying this practice for the first time, a good
rule of thumb is, if the water has gone over the pier with the
flagpole on it, it is “Safe to dive the Tommy”, not before. As
kids, we would be playing around the pier waiting for it to get
covered, Mum's, watching dutifully so you didn't go early.
As soon as the
Flagpole was wet, there was a mad dash swim over the 200-300 feet or
so of water to be the first one off the top. Quite an honor back
then.
On warm summer
nights, there is nothing better on this earth than heading for the
West Wall, and diving into the clear, warm ocean water inside the
harbor at high tide, and allowing it to engulf you in its embrace,
basking, or swimming around the myriad of small boats moored here.
Doing this with a girlfriend adds romance, especially during a full
moon, and comes highly recommended by me.
This my friends,
when I die, is where I wish my ashes to be thrown so that I can enjoy
this special place and all it's fond memories forever.
L'ancresse, Bay
and Pembroke Bay, on the northern coastline boast large, sandy
sweeping beaches with good surf and a safe place to swim, explore,
play “Germans and British”, or “Cowboys and Indians” at the
many bunkers and forts scattered throughout the common land up here,
left over from the German occupation and many wars previous with the
Normans and the French. Sometimes we would venture out to the West
Coast side of the Island to Cobo Bay or Vazon. Both gorgeous large
sandy beaches filled with tourists. The South Coast with its old
small sheltered Bays set into the high cliffs, such as Saints Bay,
Fermain, and others were great places to “Girl watch”, and swim
in the clear ocean.. These were used by pirates smuggling goods back
years ago, and still have the “smugglers Cove” feel about them.
Other times we
would head to the Bathing Pools in town. These are salt water tide
pools built to take advantage of the ebbing and flowing tides. They
have a wonderful view of Castle Cornet, a huge Medieval Castle at the
St Peter Port harbor mouth. The pools were always a good place for
fun jumping off the high board in the Ladies Pool. Again, a good
place to watch and interact with girls.
We always had a
football to kick around or make an impromptu game with shirts and
back packs as goal posts. We would go “scrumping” for fruit at
any one of the many apple or pear orchards we would see on our
ventures.
One time I
remember a particular tree with Asian Pears growing on it. Asian
Pears, for those unfamiliar, are delicious, juicy, huge white pears
like you have never tasted before. My friend and I knew where such a
tree was and although there were risks involved, such as a huge
German Shepherd dog with a bad attitude and big teeth and a grumpy
farmer, we were determined to get some.
Our mission
impossible, dare devil adventure turned out badly, we were caught
“red handed” hand on pear with no good excuse or reason to be
there. Hearts pounding with fear, we listened to the farmer tell us
how bad we were and that hell itself waited for thieves, a place we
were surely headed to burn in for penitence for the joy of the pear.
He completed his rant with the obvious belief that he had scared us
into submission as he said, and I quote, “Wait there while I go
call the police and get you two arrested for this”. He turned
towards the house, growling dog following obediently behind him, to
go call the police. After the door closed and we were sure he and the
dreaded dog were securely inside, my friend and I looked at each
other in disbelief. “Does he think we are staying here”? My
friend asked. I replied, “ I don't care what he thinks, lets get
the hell out of here”. We ran like the wind, not before stocking up
on the pears we went for of course. We didn't stop running until we
were at least a mile away and safe. We climbed a tree and enjoyed the
fruits of our adventure all the time considering the stupidity of our
fellow man, the farmer in particular. Winded from the “Escape”,
We ate pears,and laughed about our close brush with authority. For a
couple of days following that, we were fearful that the cops were
looking for us. We stayed away from each other to make it more
difficult for them to spot us. Eventually of course, we realized we
were not on Guernsey's most wanted list and life returned to normal
and many more apples and pears were had that summer, and many
following. Not the Asians though, hmm, maybe the farmer did know what
he was doing after all.
