{ Guernsey: Post 2 }

The harbor, with [St. Peter Port] traipsing straight up and steeply to the sky, must be one of the most beautiful in the world . . . 

        { The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society }    

After an early-bird continental breakfast in the dining quarters of the Hogue du Pommier, I’d like to say we immediately went out and began exploring the island.  Actually, I went back to bed and Tim worked on his thesis until noon.

Then we were off (at a brisk pace of 35 mph), parking every so often to walk along the coast and take photographs.

The difference between low and high tide was so vast,
that it left quite a few boats stranded in the mud until late evening.

. . . A picnic table overlooking the coast . . .

 

We drove until we reached St. Peter Port.

 

And then we took photographs of the boats in the bay . . .

 

And the shops . . .

And then we had lunch at the Muse, outdoors.  And I was delighted to find that the British accent really sounds exactly like in the movies, although I don’t know why I’d expect anything else.

Then we drove back to the Castel coast, where we sat in the sun and had French fries with ketchup in a paper cone.   (They call them chips.) 

I spoke to a gentleman who was raking the gravel in his front yard.  He told me that high tide would come in at nine, and the spray would wash up over the wall and onto the road, and the kids would jump in over the ledge.  In the winter, he said the spray would occasionally shoot clear over his roof-top.

He had cement mushrooms in his yard which he had made himself, and he told me exactly how.

Later, we had dinner at Le Petit  Café in St. Peter Port.  The waiters wore black pants, white dress shirts, black suspenders, and a matching cap.

We ordered Le Parisien: two baguettes with ham, cheese, and Guernsey butter. 

To be continued . . .