Vegas & The Aftermath - Diary

[stumpythefish]

The stuff people do on railways always surprises me there is a passenger overbridge just passed Stockton many a time I see people crossing track with full asda trolley with kids in tow eating there greggs pastys

[tikay]

Guernsey, continued......

Once  we had booked the trip, Gill went looking for somewhere special to eat. We knew exactly what we wanted - a quiet, non-corporate old-fashioned cafeteria, nice & quiet, in a beautiful setting. These places don't have websites, but you can find them on Trip Advisor & places .like that if you have the patience. I don't, but Gill does.

And she found just the place, Moulin Huet Bay Tea Garden.

All we had to do now was find it. Our visit coincded with the Guernsey Marathon, which, in effect, is simply a run right round Guernsey, so as we drove around, back & forth trying to find this place (there are no road signs in Guernsey) we kept coming across the marathon runners.

(Not my photo).

  

[tikay]

Hopelessly lost, & after going round in circles, we stopped & asked a local.

He tried to explain, then gave up. "Follow me" he said, then he jumped in his car & we followed him for about 3 miles.

Eventually, he waved us on, pointing to a little side road - "go down there" sorta thing.  

And we found ourselves on this one track road for some 3 miles. There were no passing spots or pull-ins, so no idea what would have happened if we met an oncoming car.

[tikay]

And, eventually, the road abruptly ended. On one side was a Public Convenience - a very odd & lonely place to find such a thing - and opposite that, a little gravelled area, big enough to park 5 or 6 cars.

And 2 signs.

BOOMIO.

My only worry is that it sounded a bit French. Unbelievable how the French get everywhere.

[tikay]

So we set off on foot, down a long, long, steep winding footpath, leading down to a secluded bay. Only about half a mile, so not too bad. It had not even crossed my mind that we'd have to walk back up this bloody hill later.

At last, we got there, & it looked perfect, a converted garden shed, or stable, but freshly painted & shiny clean.

[tikay]

The setting was idyllic, absolutely perfect. No idea how Gill finds these places, but it was exactly what we wanted.

It sat on a level grassed area just above the bay. Rhododendrons everywhere. Apparently, they had all been strangled by Japanese Knotweed about 10 years ago, but the locals all worked to get rid of the Jappo stuff.

[Tal]

Where is the windmill?

[tikay]

Where is the windmill?

No idea - does Moulin Huet mean windmill, then?

I can tell you this though.

Some artist bloke, an obscure Frog painter who went by the name of Renoir lived there for many years, & done some pictures of the place.

I think we can all agree they were utter shite, & my photos are much better.

[tikay]

The little café was gorgeous, squeaky clean, & they did proper cooked breakfasts.

I wanted a sausage sarny so bad, but I'd eaten twice my fill on the boat at their buffet breakfast, & anyway, the whole idea of visiting this café was to have proper afternoon tea. At 10am.  

And it was sheer Heaven.

Freshly baked scone, still hot, as big as you like. A tub of Guernsey cream, a pot of tea, and proper china cups & saucers.

Gill would not thank me for this photo, unkempt, windswept & stuffing her gob with food, but it's how it was.

Afterwards, we walked further down to the by itself, & messed around on the rocks, & in the little rock pools like two 5 year olds at the seaside.   

Memories are made of little things like that.

[Tal]

Where is the windmill?

No idea - does Moulin Huet mean windmill, then?

I can tell you this though.

Some artist bloke, an obscure Frog painter who went by the name of Renoir lived there for many years, & done some pictures of the place.

I think we can all agree they were utter shite, & my photos are much better.

Moulin means windmill.

Here is a famous red one:

Click to see full-size image.

[tikay]

So that was that box ticked, but a nasty surprise was to follow.

I had not realised, or even considered, walking back up that long, steep (1 in 3 or thereabouts) path for half a mile, & it near killed me.

I had to stop a few times to catch my breath, & soon I was gasping for air.

We reached the top, & I felt really giddy & had chest pains. In these moments, we do irrational things. We were back by the car, & the Public convenience now, & I was near certain I was having a heart attack, the chest pains were well bad. Don't ask why, I have no idea, but I did not want Gill to see me so distressed & maybe about to keel over miles from any help. So I indicated I needed to visit the toilet, & staggered inside. I sat myself down for 10 minutes or so & eventually recovered, it was all a fuss about nothing. When I emerged, Gill was stood there, worried look & all, "you OK?" sort of thing.

Yea yeah, all fine, all fine. 

Bit of a scary moment, truth to tell.

Anyway, pottered back to the car, had a quick ciggie to calm my nerves, & off we went for our next stop on our little adventure. 

[tikay]

Guess we are both a bit odd, but we both love travelling, & particularly visiting airports, train stations & the like. Don't ask.

So our next stop was......Guernsey Airport.

Sadly, it has a new Terminal Building, not at all what we were hoping for.

[tikay]

The thing with Airports & big train stations is the Arrivals & Departure boards.

There is something really quite exciting at a London Railway Station, seeing trains to Edinburgh, Inverness, Penzance or wherever. Same in the USA, seeing trains to Chicago, San Fran, Seattle.

At Airports, looking up & seeing flights to South America, China, Alaska. It stirs the blood somehow.

To be fair, Guernsey destinations & arrivals was not quite as exciting, where a long haul flight is Manchester, Bristol or Southampton, but for some reason, the incoming Newspaper & Mail flights sort of summed up little island syndrome.

We went inside the Terminal, got a Costa, & sat & watched a few flights land - 2 in an hour, I think. Guess we were lucky we visited at a busy time.      

[tikay]

Guernsey is very old world, rather like the Isle of Wight, or Cornwall.

No proper shops, no big buildings, & very little commerce.

Dotted around the island, outside people's front gardens, are little displays of home grown fruit & veg. It is all based on "honesty boxes", nobody serves you, you just help yourself.    

Gill is a severe shopaholic, so we visited several, & our journey home was burdened by about 10lbs of Guernsey Tomatoes & whatnot. The bloody fridge is full of them now. Pretty sure the Tesco ones are better, but Gill won't hear a word of that.  

[RED-DOG]

So that was that box ticked, but a nasty surprise was to follow.

I had not realised, or even considered, walking back up that long, steep (1 in 3 or thereabouts) path for half a mile, & it near killed me.

I had to stop a few times to catch my breath, & soon I was gasping for air.

We reached the top, & I felt really giddy & had chest pains. In these moments, we do irrational things. We were back by the car, & the Public convenience now, & I was near certain I was having a heart attack, the chest pains were well bad. Don't ask why, I have no idea, but I did not want Gill to see me so distressed & maybe about to keel over miles from any help. So I indicated I needed to visit the toilet, & staggered inside. I sat myself down for 10 minutes or so & eventually recovered, it was all a fuss about nothing. When I emerged, Gill was stood there, worried look & all, "you OK?" sort of thing.

Yea yeah, all fine, all fine. 

Bit of a scary moment, truth to tell.

Anyway, pottered back to the car, had a quick ciggie to calm my nerves, & off we went for our next stop on our little adventure. 

Lol.