En France 78

 

Castle Cornet, defender of the independence of the Bailiwick . Guernsey is of the British Isles yet not of the United Kingdom. Free to make its own laws, set its own taxes. An island state.

Its high flown skyline, tinged with the minarets of the Orient, is grounded by a waterfront straight from the West Country. 

A Crown Dependency, commiserating on the death of the Queen. The red white and blue Union Jack, and the golden cross of Guernsey, joined in national mourning, at half mast. On towers. . . . .

. . . . .turrets. . . . . .

. . . . .and steeples, across the island. Bringing out the 'True Brit,' in islanders and we mainlanders, alike.

Aboard Stargazer, I am eating a very British clotted cream tea, as today’s midday cannon is fired.

The flat report reverberating from the battlements. Scattering gulls the breadth of the harbour.

Whilst in port, I have replaced Stargazer's dwindling stock of staples, not to be found in Spanish or French stores.

Including a brandy laced fruit cake. Intended to be decorated for Christmas. But ideal to keep the autumn chill at bay, whilst on the helm, during Stargazer's home run, up Channel.

Although I dearly love my Brie and Camembert, I discover that I miss the robust flavours of a well matured Cheddar, or a blue veined Stilton. Perhaps that is my 'True Brit' re-surfacing, after Stargazer's most European of summers?