Return to the Rock

So here I was again back on the ‘Rock’ as it is sometimes referred to. The island of Jersey in the English Channel. Ninety miles from England and twenty miles from France.

Yes, I know, another bit of land we stole, c’mon you have to admit we were pretty good at pinching land and countries. Digressing slightly, it’s always amazed me how we ‘discovered’ Africa, as though the Africans weren’t already aware of its existence? Where did they think they were living? Anyway back to the tale. When I first came here in 1976 I was ‘on me Todd,’ as we say. Now I come to visit my two sons, their partners and three beautiful granddaughters.

But sometimes I still have a deep foreboding. A marriage breakup can be traumatic and as my first marriage ended here then I guess that was the most traumatic of all my relationship endings ( I wonder if that makes sense?) So I can be toddling along merrily with not a care in the world and I will see a building, beach, or someone will mention a name and I’m right back there reliving the pain and sorrow I felt when I left over thirty years ago. Funny old life isn’t it? How one small occurrence can trigger a whole series of emotions. Oh dear this is a bit dreary 😀 So did I have fun? Yeah, of course I’m still CCB 😂 Sons looked after me and granddaughters are an absolute delight, but I think I need to arrive a little earlier on Saturday so I can do the Park Run

 

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