Guernsey

Last week’s travel opportunity was a short venture to The States of Guernsey.
Previous visitors had provided positive reports so
Count von Stein & I were expecting an interesting
trip. We were not to be dissappointed, even taking into account the
exceedingly low standards set by week long trip to Coventry last month – the
saying ‘Sending you to Coventry’ is very well founded.

Of course first we had to get there – a quick flight over the channel in a turbo
prop puddle jumper – never a task to be taken lightly. Travelling across the
tarmac to our plane, the bus screeches to a halt narrowly missing an oncoming
truck that turn right across our path. Everyone without a firm grip was thrown
to the ground. Woah. The driver, evidently still a little
shocked, makes to continue but quickly slams on the brakes again as a regional
jet crosses our path! Sweet Jesus get me out of here! Oh & did
I mention that from picking up boarding passes at the self-service checkin, to
passing through the boarding gate, not a sole asked to see any ID? Oh well, who
cares about keeping London safe anyway.

For an island a mere 25 km square, with around 30 billion GBP in turnover,
the first impressions given by Guernsey Airport are not really in keeping
with the image of the Island as a whole. Someone else has obviously
noticed this discrepancy & a major construction project is underway for
a new terminal. But even this is odd, given that tourist numbers visiting
the island have been cut by 90% from their peak & their increase is apparently
not encouraged by residents. Of course, first impressions are notoriously
misleadingly, and our 10 minute cab ride to St. Peters Port showed what life’s
really about. In spite of a national 35 mph speed limit, the entire road
system is chock full of flash cars – ferraris, beamers, aston’s & pretty
much any other sports car of note.

After a day’s (not so hard) work & with beer-o-clock fast approaching we
headed out into the town. This can best be described as like walking into
a time warp – the main street can’t have changed a bit since the early
70’s. After a bite to eat we settled into a cosy Irish pub for a pint (or
6) of Guiness. Not so smart, since we’d been away since 5-ish, no hangover
mind – just a little trouble waking up.

Our sloth-like start to the day was to be short lived, however, since we
discovered the (unthinkable for a londoner) island’s dark secret – a
complete lack of taxis. A two hour wait on an island you could
circumnavigate in little more than 30 minutes. Not to worry, “turn right out
of the hotel gate, walk to the pub, turn left up the hill taking the right
hand fork in the road, branch off for a jaunt through the park & you’ll be
there in 10 minutes” said the helpful conceirge. We even had a little map.

Another day’s work & and that was it, back on a plane to Gatwick (with a ID
check this time)…