An English Summer 74

 

I strike out, from the waterfront, switching a hefty holdall, of accumulated washing, from hand to hand, to relieve its weight.

Taking the shorter, but steeper route. . . . .

. . . . .up well worn stone steps, sandwiched between the buildings clinging to the hillside, above the harbour.

Away from the bustling High Street, with its big name stores and well groomed facades.

Into residential streets, zig-zaging their way up the improbable slope.

Up onto the exotically spired and minareted, St Peter Port skyline. On a day when a warm mizzle mists my glasses as I walk.

I find myself on a street simply known as Vauvert. Home to a cluster of ethnic eateries and the Lavoir Normand. I leave my motley collection of salty and sandy towels, bed linen and clothes with them, for an afternoon collection. 

Noticing a barbers, I take the opportunity to have three months of unruly growth shorn. Striking lucky, when I ask if they accept "walk ins." They don't, but they've just had a no-show. . . .

The clouds have parted, by the time I return to the harbour, a rucksack full of fresh groceries on my back. There will be proper cooking, once more, aboard Stargazer tonight.

As I approach, I realise that Stargazer is berthed next to Tanya, a boat we were alongside in Levington, during our spring shakedown cruise. And whose owner rose at dawn to help extract us from a tight berth. Further down the pontoons, the Hallberg-Rassy 342, Mingarry, is making fast. We met her last in Trebeurden. The old adage that,"If you stay in St Peter Port, for long enough, you will meet every sailing acquaintance you ever knew," holds true.