Guernsey Gazette 2011

Yummy! Just what you've been waiting for...

Hello again! Time to get that clipboard out and begin checking those boxes: Are those chestnuts roasting? Is that fire open? Tree-tops glistening? Children listening? (Yeah, like!) Days: Merry? Bright? Love-light gleaming? (Er… please explain) Snow? Mistletoe? Presents on the tree? (That’s what the lyrics actually say – On the tree. Ours are always under by the way, never tried the ‘on the tree’ idea, Health & Safety Executive might have a few words to say. Or, it’s just occurred to me that maybe they are very little titchy wee presents perhaps. Now there’s an idea.) OK let’s continue with that box ticking: Heart light? Troubles out of sight? Faithful friends dear and near? Yule-tide gay? (Ooer… let’s leave it there shall we!)

Here we go again then, Christmas eh? Seems like the last one has only just finished! Possibly this is because some shops over here started marketing Christmas ‘crap‘ first week in September (see photo),

Chocolate Santas for sale in September! And what happened to Halloween? No, don't ask!

which was only a couple of months after they had finally got exhausted the January sales of the stuff they didn’t manage to sell last year. This may mean that if global warming conspiracy theorists have their way then we may be entering into a quasi-anti-Narnia era where it’s always Christmas but never winter. Not sure which is worse. Is that what it’s like in Australia and New Zealand anyway? Answers on a post-card… no forget I wrote that… comments below please.

Actually we quite like the changing seasons generally and although being placed in the outflow of the North Atlantic Drift and thus warmed by the waters of the Gulf Stream the Channel Islands maintain a fairly temperate, mild maritime climate – frost is rare, few hibernating animals, plants which are generally annuals in Northern Europe become perennials, palm trees proliferate, high annual sunshine hours – a tax-haven and a veritable subtropical paradise I hear you think…

Summer time at Cobo: 2 min walk from our house

but don’t forget that the word Atlantic is hidden away in North Atlantic Drift!

Cobo Coast road in the winter

So despite the warm ground temperature and blooming flora and fauna nevertheless during the winter months we do get buffeted by incredible thumping, agitating, penetrating, debilitating, tempestuous, progress-defeating winds from the West and Sou-West, like the storm which is upon us now as I write, and which has succeeded in cancelling out ferry sailings to and from the UK for the past three days! Now on a day like today when you get to the top of the hill behind our house and stand (if you can!) and watch that same majestic wind pummeling the sea into shape, seeing great walls of it flung 30ft high and over the coastal defenses, chucking huge 14lb pebbles, along with flotsam and jetsam over the road and onto the roofs and into the gardens of homes on the western seaboard, feeling that same cyclonic blast sweep up the rain to send it horizontally into your face, actually then you can appreciate being alive, and the beauty of the changing the seasons.

Cobo Bay: West coast in the Spring

I love the Spring, the Autumn and the Summer, don’t misunderstand me – from that same vantage point hidden in the little pine copse at the summit of Ruette de la Tour, on a Summer’s day you can see children playing in the sand at Grandes Rocques, fishing boats bobbing for their crab-pots out by Les Grunes, Nor-West of Cobo, picnickers at Port Soif, even hear the smack of leather on willow from the cricketers on La Mare de Carteret – that’s fine and majestic also. But on a day like today you hear nothing but the scream of the wind and your own heartbeat. How wonderful to be alive. Beautiful in every season.

West coast late Autumn

So it was nevertheless a little odd for Guernsey to be gifted with not one but two dollops of snow last winter, just after the time I was writing the GG10. My father said that in his 98 years he had never seen snow before Christmas in the islands. Then in January this year we had some more. Which was entertaining enough in the UK but here in the Channel Islands we just have no real plan for snow; not even 2.5 inches of it (which was about all it amounted to at worst!) So the kids enjoyed snow days, transport came to a standstill on and off the island, everyone stayed indoors and generally one came to the conclusion that just maybe we weren’t living in the 21st Century after all.

2011 was the year we celebrated 25 years of marriage – a quarter-century of coupleness – and fittingly, thanks to the generosity of friends we were able to celebrate this with an out-of-this-world-but-very-much-still-in-it holiday at a resort aptly named Couples in Jamaica. For two weeks. Two weeks?! Just the two of you? What on earth did you do for two weeks? I again hear you think. Well the answer to that is for us to know and for you to guess. Suffice to say we feel suitably qualified to host fulfilled married life seminars for a few more years to come.

We got married in August 1986, but the holiday offer was for February, so that is when we went, which included Valentines Day thrown in, so… Ah! all sweet and nice and romantic, slushy-wushy, nostalgia-isn’t-what-it-used-to-be, and the like. Yes, it was beautiful and for us very timely as the latter months of 2010, over the Christmas period and into January 2011 we had begun to struggle to look after Dad at home. On Christmas Day last year he was feeling pretty weak, but decided to sit up in his chair for lunch, and we gathered around him and his beloved Hammond as a family in the morning to sing a few carols and songs (happily andtearfully!) with Dad lifting up his hands at certain points and crying out “Take me Jesus!” in Guernsey French! Yep! Just a little on the emotional side.

Papa Le Tocq with his family, Christmas Day 2010

We had the kindly help of a fantastic bunch of Care Attendants and Nurses who would drop by three times a day towards the end (not forgetting Betty who had been Mum and Dad’s Home Help for over 14 years!), but even then when you’re caring for someone near and dear to you, knowing he is finding it difficult to live on another day, emotionally stretched endeavoring to keep him stimulated, comfortable, interested in eating even, being on call via a bell/life-line system, waking sometimes three times in the night for toilet lifts, or to pick him up off the floor because he ‘didn’t want to disturb us again’ and had fallen down trying to do it himself, clearing up after accidents, hosting a regular stream of visitors to see Dad (some with strong if genuinely concerned ‘opinions’ as to how we should be caring for him), as well as looking after a teenage family, doing a fair day’s work both in ‘caring professions’ too… it’s not just the physical tiredness that builds up! Dad could appreciate this too, long gone were the times where we could leave him with a family member and although he did not like hospitals, when the opportunity for two weeks respite care came up he encouraged us to take it. With Dad safely in hospital while we were away, this helped us to find space and time to think, pray and consider how we would face the future. We had checked out a few nursing homes and in direct answer to prayer, on our return the one that was top of our list informed us that Dad could move in within a few days. He spent exactly one month there before slipping peacefully away in his sleep one night in April, and like Mum three and half years earlier, we were happy that we had cared for and nursed him at home with us all those years excepting just a few weeks near the end. It was a great celebration at Church on the Rock, too many happy funny memories to recount, but Lucy and I shared from our perspectives and Grace led the singing of one of Papa’s (and his Mum before him) favourite old French hymns “Christ est ma vie” [Christ is my life].

I share this not so much to air my confession to the world, but because I know that many of you dear folk out there are either going through similar times with loved ones, or will face it sooner or later. We faced it early compared to most because of the peculiarities of my adoption and my parents age and longevity. But it amounts to the same thing. Be encouraged, we felt stretched in every way – you will too – but it’s worth it all, we feel alive, satisfied, fulfilled, and we’ve been able to grieve healthily with no regrets.

Also finally we were able to resolve the tombstone problem which had irked us since we buried Mum in 2007. In digging Mum’s grave they had hit rock and so had informed us that there would not be room for another coffin in the same grave, Dad would probably have to buried alongside when the time came. This unexpected problem was compounded by Dad’s realization that the cost of the masonry, already causing him to be aghast, would now be doubled. So he had insisted that we put one stone, in between the two graves, with engraved arrows pointing the relative direction of the respective deceased, e.g. “Millie, here ->… Will, there <-" As you may imagine, this did not exactly meet with our approval, but never mind how much we tried to persuade him otherwise, he insisted he would not have us waste our money on two headstones. As a result no stone was erected in the last four years. However when the time came this year the sextant informed us that there was in fact room for Dad's coffin after all, and so that is where we laid him, with no need for two stones, nor directional arrows, etc. Phew!

Judith got a permanent job this year (she had been working in two part-time casual positions since returning as a qualified nurse – a few hours per week in Community and a few in a Clinic). She now works for the Medical Specialist Group – the private group of consultants and specialists that are contracted to do the work normally undertaken by NHS at Hospitals in the UK. It involves seeing both private and government-funded (through public insurance) patients. It is not a lot more in terms of hours (20 per week) but now these are contracted hours so we have to plan time off a little more carefully in advance. She's really enjoying it though and she's part of a great team of nurses.

Our boat, Bare Necessities, has not been used so much this year, or should I say Judith has not used our boat so much this year! Read GG10 from last year to discover perhaps one reason for this. However despite the wicked winter we had an incredibly mild Spring and Jon and the girls enjoyed a few excursions on the water, taking friends over to neighbouring islands, and in the Easter holidays even a wonderful evening sunset picnic (lovingly prepared by loving daughters) on a beach on the east coast of Herm overlooking St Peter Port – absolutely delightful!

Sunset picnic in Herm, April.

Judith has however overcome some of her conservative inhibitions and ventured into the Apple Mac world through the acquisition of an iPad – which she loves. Although I am still trying to get her to do a tutorial. It really bugs me when she discovers something simple by accident and exclaims “Oo! Look! It can do this!” Still, this is progress.

This has been a year of shedding pounds, not only if you, like us, hold shares in European equities, but for Judith and me, also shedding weight, real body mass. Without going on a diet! Yes. We have just consumed a bit less, and week by week we have ballooned a bit less. We’re thinking of marketing this incredible technique, so here’s a sneak preview of the opening chapter:

“Eat a little less.”

Revolutionary & remarkable eh? Wonder why no-one’s thought of that before. To be fair we have also been going to talk to someone each week about what we’ve been eating and getting ourselves weighed which brings me to a sneak preview of the second chapter. Here it is:

“Talk to someone about this.”

Oh yes, I can see this book really selling in the millions. I wanted to call it “The Dunce’s Diet” but Judith tells me we’re not really on a diet, and she’s right, I don’t feel like I am. Which is good news indeed. Not much exercise has accompanied this weight reduction experience although Judith did go to a couple of Zumba sessions with Lucy. I did not accompany them, but was sufficiently bemused by the fact that my wife crawled back into the house each time, exhausted, panting, red-faced, sweaty (sorry, glowing) complaining of aches and pains, and yet my daughter’s comment was “Mum, you’re not even trying!”

Emily became a voter this year (in Guernsey Politics) and also has begun driving! “Our baby is driving cars! Arrhhh!” But don’t worry, so far she’s only managed to drive one at a time. And only with supervision. [Interesting word that, supervision. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds is it?] But returning to our baby Ems, what happened to all those years? She’s now passed her GSCEs and moved on to Guernsey Grammar’s Sixth Form Centre where she’s studying Art, Photography and Media Studies.

Grace had a bit of an up and down year at Uni, partly because she was away for a lot of the time her Papa was dying (although she miraculously made it back on the boat in stormy seas to say ‘goodbye’ a few hours before he passed away), but she has now entered into her final year in London and has great prospects of a job with Sovereign Trust, a young up and coming outfit based in Guernsey where she has had a holiday job for the past two years. She seems to have taken an interest in actuarial science. Hmm… suppose someone has to. In the Summer, as part of the National Youth Choir of Great Britain Grace sang in a BBC Prom at the Albert Hall. Now we try never to boast about our kids here so, let me just say that it was Mahler 2 “Resurrection Symphony” and Gustavo ‘The Dude” Dudamel was conducting the Simon Bolivar Orchestra. You can hear the incredible finale here. It is probably my favourite symphony of all time, but the day was made that much more memorable by the fact that Judith and I could not get seats (all tickets went within a few minutes of the box office opening months before!) and so we had to do like all good promenaders do and queue for seven hours or so outside to pay £5 each for a standing-room-only ticket and hope to get in. They turned over a thousand away. Fortunately we did get in. The last time we did this we were students! We were entertained during the long, hot day of standing/sitting/lying in line by happening to be positioned near a stalwart promenader who also happened to be Mahler’s greatest living fan. You can guess the rest.

Lucy, now 22, we are proud to announce… invested in a classic British Mini this year, which means she has enjoyed all the thrills of classic British motor car ownership including uncomfortable driving positions, being nearly impossible to get in and out of, unpredictable suspension, rust, water seepage, breakdowns, expensive repairs, with enough storage capacity for a couple of sandwiches, along with the knowledge that she is driving a car everyone double-takes, admires and coos at, and is privately thankful that they do not own. Seriously, though, we are proud to announce that Lucy has got engaged to her long-standing and only boyfriend Luke Vidamour (of CourageHaveCourage fame – a Guernsey band that played at Reading/Leeds Festivals this year for those of you in the know! Grace’s boyfriend Ollie is also in the band. We’re in the process of considering Emily’s options.) We are absolutely delighted, over-the-moon, and hey-diddle-diddle about them! What a great year! A wedding is being planned for late next summer.

We renovated the flat in the wing of Feugré Villa that we original established for Dad and Mum to move into in 2004, and now we have a useful little one-bedroom unit (with space for a few little’uns if necessary) for friends to use. You read that correctly. Since the summer we have also had a lodger living with us in the rooms above the flat. Luke, an unfortunate choice of name for a Le Tocq lodger (earning him the nicknames Luke No.2, or Luke-the-lesser) is a great bloke who just happens to be a manager at Waitrose too, which, shall we say, comes in handy from time to time.

We paid the regular annual visit to the White House, Herm, on our actual Wedding Anniversary in August, also a family holiday in France, around St Palais-sur-Mer as usual.

Les belles filles, Talmont-sur-Gironde

This was an historic year as we finished reading the Chronicles of Narnia, having read one book in the series virtually every year we have been on our annual French holiday since Emily was old enough to join in. It was of course the Last Battle this year. Laughs were laughed, tears were shed, and there were the usual requests late in the night for “just another chapter, oh pleeeeease!”

Other countries have also featured significantly in our forays this year, especially Romania, to visit our growing gang or friends in Brasov and Iasi – what incredible saints! Also we enjoyed sorties to Portugal, Belgium and the Netherlands for the first time. The Low Countries trip was initiated by our developing friendship with New Wine Europe, and was especially fascinating and encouraging. Brussels, Amsterdam & Eindhoven featured, along with a stop in Den Haag to check out Chris Taylor’s excellent Redeemer International church. All opening up warm new friendships in ministry and mission. We feel very much at one with our brothers and sisters in these nations often facing very similar issues to us. France increasingly features again on the ministry radar as we work with the Newfrontiers churches based there to see more mission, growth, leadership development and church planting in that nation ripe for revival.

One of the factors which has released Jon more outside of the local church this year has been the addition of Paul Chesworth to our staff as executive pastor. Paul and Jon have known each other for over nine years as Paul has been a Methodist minister in Guernsey during that time and worked with Jon in Evangelical Alliance and New Wine environments. Paul and Liz have been an immediate huge asset to the church and we are so grateful that miraculously they have been granted permission to remain here with us.

You may have noticed that there hasn’t been much name-dropping in this GG. I’ve really come to dislike name-droppers, as I was telling the Queen only a couple of weeks ago, I was contacted recently by the media to ask me to comment on why I was the third most followed Guernsey personality on Twitter. Of course that was easy; #1 & #2 aren’t real Guernsey personalities! Jenson Button (#1, with a mere 706, 103 following him – it’ll be over 750k by the time you’ve read this I guess!) is a UK ex-pat who moved here only 12 months ago, and Andy Priaulx (#2, with a meagre 14,432) is just his friend. Priaulx is a French name anyway. I’m only 13,583 behind too. They’re both into motor racing, now where can you do that in Guernsey? So they spend all their time elsewhere. Yes, and there are at least two other Guerns I know who tweet regularly, not counting Judith who is on Twitter but regularly forgets her password so does not. [Don’t forget to follow me on Twitter by the way – here!]

So that’s it for this year folks! Drink up that mulled wine now and get back to some proper work. Your country needs you. And even if not, the EU does.

Much love to all of you this Christmas – May the God of all grace grant that you defy the current economic logic of the prophets of doom and let Peace and Prosperity be yours in the New Year!

JJLGE

(We’re still here)

Guernsey Gazette 2010

One day all annual newsletters will be like this.

We interrupt this blog in order to broadcast an annual cherished august literary phenomenon known as the Guernsey Gazette. Its international popularity is the stuff of legend, and we are shameless in choosing this little piece of ether in which to publish it this year. For those of you ‘tuning in’ to this iGazette who are accustomed to the more tangible calligraphic editions of the past, sorry. This year we have decided to pilot this prototype e-version (or should that be i-version, I’m never sure?) because

• this blog has proved popular with so many people who don’t normally get sent the regular manuscript Guernsey Gazette (GG) by post; we want you newcomers to share in these previously exclusive joys without incurring additional over-budget expense to ourselves, naturally,
• we also want to test out whether this method of publication and delivery will cause any significant dents in the supernal popularity of this annual organ, and
• on-line is so cool, trendy and way-to-go innit?

Moreover, to be blunt, you can like it or lump it, as there was just no way a GG was going to be produced in the normal Noahic way this year in time for the festive posting. Just wouldn’t have happened. So it’s this or nowt.

What normally happens is that around the end of October, Judith opines to Jonathan “Have you thought about what you’re going to write in the Gazette this year?” to which he replies “Don’t be silly, there’s plenty time yet! Summer’s only just gone.” Then, mid November Judith tries again with a “Any progress on the Gazette front?” which is greeted traditionally by “I’ve got loads of things jotted down in my journal.” What this refers to is Jon’s custom during the year to use a page at the back of his trusty Moleskine journal (see here for an explanation) to note down any significant, memorable, funny family happenings which might then be suitably embellished to form the annual Gazette in due time. These last couple of years have seen Jon’s iPhone (4 now – yes, he has upgraded, thanks for asking, and yes, he does like it… very much… almost as much as matrimonially, one might say – ‘one’ being Judith, generally) brought into the fray as a means of recording bits and bobs from life under the notes app.

Come the end of November, Judith’s pleas are beginning to sound liturgical; “I do not want to presume that you’ve finished the Gazette yet, but can I remind you that it will be December next week?” To which Jon intones the antiphon “Calm down dear! No need to worry.” Finally as advent eventually ventures upon us Judith disconsolately attempts one last effort with “Is the GG ready? I’m posting the cards in a few days.” Which is generally met with a ceremonial pause after which Jon’s irascible response is something like “What! How? *¡%?*•$@ €*≠¶¿§! Now you tell me? Why didn’t you warn me? I haven’t even started it yet!”

After another solemn pause usually Jon speaks again, more calmly this time, offering something like “Well at least I’ve got the stuff in my Moleskine and on my iPhone… I’ll work on that”

And this is how events transpired this year, only that when Jon did consult his Moleskine and iPhone the combined list of things to write about consisted of

• Lucy  > U fys grad job sw/cones
• Grace > Oli  d/test job
• Ems > job tall (hair=+12”)
• Judith + nursing
• Dad
• Rom
• F<Bt
• L/St P
• New York?

Now not only did this not add up to much, most of it made very little sense… to anyone, least of all Jon, who began to believe that he’d jotted most of it down whilst asleep. How could this year have been so dull? For one ghastly moment, and, having decided that this was definitely the year to launch iGazette, Jon thought of publishing the whole thing in  Comic Sans just to liven things up a bit. But don’t worry, none of us is that cruel. And then, all of a sudden (Note: has it ever occurred to you what a bizarre expression that is? I mean, as opposed to ‘two thirds of a sudden’ perhaps, or ’37.4% of a sudden’?) revelation, inspiration and not a little perspiration came! How could any of us forget? 2010 was without doubt

THE YEAR OF THE BOAT

This is not our boat... it's one of many cruise liners visiting St Peter Port

So, I hope you are sitting comfortably, as I have a tale to tell. And as it is now so unusually close to Christmas, you deserve to have a glass of something warming in one hand and a nibble or two or something else in t’other. Only that would mean that you could not hold your laptop properly, or have you got an iPad now? Really… how novel and chic. And do you like it? Wait a minute, where was I? Are yes, the boat. Actually maybe that was what ‘F<Bt’ referred on Jon’s iPhone list, not some strange mathematical formula or mistyped reference to Facebook.

Our boat (or to be precise our 50% of boat – as we share it with our good friends

Bare Necessities

Julian & Bebe & their family, and whilst suddens can’t really be split, boats can,) was actually originally purchased in the summer of 2009, but as we spent a few months of that year off the rock and travelling the globe, Jon not returning until late October, we did not really get out more than a couple of times last year. It’s a great little nippy 21ft Sea-Ray sports-powerboat with a small 2 berth cabin and a juicy 275 Mercruiser in the stern.

Certainly our boat has been a major feature of this year, starting from the very beginning since it was as early as on a bright sunny 2 January that Jon & Jules first ventured out in 2010 for a bracing afternoon trip around Herm, Jethou, Sark and Brecqhou, taking in

Fort Brecqhou - the latest Gothic Chateau to be built

Sir David & Sir Fred Barclay’s neo-gothic castle of a folly on the latter as we swept past at 35 knots.

That’s the wonder of the sea in this part of the world; it’s cold but it’s not freezing, you can still enjoy being out on it in the winter. Moreover the numerous little islands around us, and being so close to France, make it so much fun.

Ah! Which brings me to France… and fun! Having had the pleasure of the islands close by, numerous lunches and dinners on Herm, etc. (jealous yet?) Jon suggested that we might venture out later in the summer as far as France, the Normandy coast being only 25-40 miles away depending on which port you call into.  Strangely, Judith agreed. Strangely because whilst our boat is fast, it is also small; it is really the sort of craft you see used for water-skiing and other maritime sports. And so, with Judith having only asked once “Will it be safe?” (and so Jon never having to say in defense anything more complicated than “What could possibly go wrong?”) we invited Bare Necessities‘ other co-parents to join us for an extended lunch in Carteret one Thursday in August.

On the appointed day we found ourselves around 9am sitting on Bare in the Marina having prepped her and awaiting the arrival of Jules and Bebe. After a few minutes we heard from them that Bebe had decided not to come having heard on the shipping forecast that it could be “blowing force 4 locally Force 5”. Now I should say that Jules and Bebe are more experienced sailors than we, having owned a boat for several years before us. So I asked Jules candidly, did he think it was still OK to go? And of course being a male human being, he did, and he’d still like to join us if we did not mind; he wanted to stock up on his French wine supplies. Very wise. That was fine by us, and we comforted one another that a) the forecasts are often wrong, b) from the shelter of the Albert Marina it looked like a mild, sunny day, c) force 4 couldn’t really be that bad, after all it went up to force 11 or something didn’t it? and d) “locally force 5” meant that there might be ‘pockets’ where it felt a bit breezier perhaps.

Leaving St Peter Port

So we set off, heading out of St Peter Port in a South Easterly direction towards Carteret, passing ‘Lower Heads’ south of Herm (sounds painful, but bear with me) and then very soon coasting past the southern tip of Little Sark at a brisk 30 knots. It started to get a little choppy after that, and the sea became what is known technically as ‘confused’, and to the uninitiated as “Oo er, I’m feeling rather queasy!” For those of you who don’t know, the Channel Islands are situated in waters with some of the highest tidal variations in the world; for example it’s not unusual to have 11 metre tides here. On top of that, we are in the Bay of St Malo roughly where the warm North Atlantic Drift, or Gulf Stream meets the cold English Channel, so the tidal currents can also be very strong and strange. Thus we started to get quite wet. I should point out that apart from the small cabin in the bow the rest of the boat is not under cover, so if you are hitting the rollers you get wet at the helm unless you duck in time below the small windshield! And even then… well you get my gist. Moreover you don’t really want to retire to the cabin while she’s bouncing about on the briny as the headroom is er… minimal.

Nevertheless we ventured on and soon past the north-eastern tip of that rectangle to the south of Guernsey, otherwise known as Jersey.  So in under 90 minutes of leaving Guernsey we arrived in the Normandy port of Carteret, which whilst not the closest port we could have chosen, has the advantage of a very good marina and a pretty line of quayside restaurants all serving a mean moules-frites to hungry sea-farers. It was a bright, sunny day and so swallowing our so very nearly emitted emesis and making no comment on the journey to anyone, we moored up and ambled to the nearest refectory to enjoy our déjeuner. And très bon it was too.

Moules à Carteret

The Carteret marina is based in an estuary and so we had some time to kill after lunch before the water level was high enough for us to set off back home. This was fine as we had planned to get supplies (wine and cheese… and fuel it turned out, as typiquement the marina refuelling depot was shut for a mere 6 hours – that’s taking lunch to a ridiculous extreme, but hey! this is France). Eventually having headed back carrying 40L of petrol and a similar amount of wine, we found a group of Jersey guys had moored up alongside us.

“You’re not heading back to Guernsey this evening are you?” asked their skipper. “We’ve been having second thoughts about heading back to Jersey” (which is only about 16 miles due west of Carteret compared to about 40 nor-west to Guernsey). Judith was unfortunately taking a keen interest in their opinion. “It was a bit choppy on the way over,” I retorted “But I’m sure we’ll be fine.” They were not giving in: “Not sure about that” said the one, “It’s blowing force 5 NE and storm clouds out there. And the currents will be against you too.” At this point Judith gave me one of her looks. “Ha! Well good job we’re in a power boat then!” I remarked nervously. “You done the journey before then?” asked the skipper. “Is that the time?” I enquired, of no one in particular, and very soon we were gently motoring out of the marina. That was around 6:45pm.

At around 10pm we made it into St Peter Port. If ever anyone was glad to barely make out in the dark the familiar rocks to avoid in the Little Russel it was us. We had taken over twice the time to get back. At one point, banging up and down on every wall of water that seemed to be being thrown at us, I looked and saw the southern tip of Sark. “Phew!” I thought ‘We’re nearly home.” I asked Julian to take the helm and I fixed the lights up as darkness was falling. An hour later, after some incredible crashing and banging about, I looked again and Sark seemed exactly in the same place. On the portside only 10 miles away or so the northern shoreline of Jersey seemed to be extending itself forever, and I wondered at one point if we’d be better to drop anchor in one of those Crapaud bays for the night.

In all this time Judith exhibited what can be only described as radio silence… with an occasional little whimper, as we were flung involuntarily into the air again and came smacking down on some piece of unfriendly sea which at times resembled liquid concrete. From time to time I asked Judith “Are you OK?” but each time I knew it was a stupid question before the words left my lips. “Just get me home” she whispered on one occasion as she looked up with soulful eyes. We were evidently not doing more than 8 knots and yet we felt like we were going (nowhere) a lot faster.  We used the whole tank of petrol on the way back compared to a third getting over to Carteret!

Enough shipping yarns! Suffice to say, Judith needed a couple of weeks of physio to recover from such jolting, but at least, as I often tell her now, she has a boating tale to tell. Judith’s only comment was “I don’t do exciting.” (This, as you can imagine, has been much quoted now!)

Now the girls have been up to their usual mischief this year. Lucy stupidly went and graduated in the summer,

Lucy eats her hat on graduation day

which was a real shame as she was doing so well at attending her one lecture per week, most weeks. We had really hoped she might continue as a student for at least another decade as there is nothing Jon likes more than paying dirty, disorganised, and socially inept clowns (art college lecturers to the uninitiated) enough money to make them seem important enough to be always off campus at the drop of a hat, travelling the globe on so-called lecture tours, drinking sprees masquerading as research and the like. Not that Jon feels strongly about these things or is opinionated or anything.

Any how, Lucy’s last year included her Final Year Show of course for which she produced an interesting ‘audio art’ piece, which seemed to please her tutors, even if her father failed to see the connection with ‘Fine Art (Painting)’ which was the title of her degree course. Maybe I should have submitted a cowpat for my Music Composition class in my final year? Sorry. Got me on a bit of a band wagon there. Look, she passed, with honours, let’s leave it at that and be grateful. Next to Lucy’s audio piece was a fascinating display by a student who had decided to buy white emulsion from B&Q and to simply paint the walls floor and ceiling white. Simply and badly it seemed. She called it “White” I think, and we were reliably informed that it took 9 months in conceptualisation. Personally I would not trust her to paint my ceiling it was so unevenly finished. Enough! Enough!

So Lucy got her BA (Hons) and returned home like all good students to work part-time in a café for the minimum wage. Actually only for a month or so – this was her regular holiday job – and she’s now landed a great permanent job at Martel-Maides, a top Guernsey Estate Agency & Fine Art Auctioneers. But her café job offered some amusing moments. Lucy told us one day that a French group had ventured in and one man had come to the counter and ordered “Swiss cones”. It was busy and there was no-one else around to ask really, but Lucy was pretty certain when she informed the man “I’m really sorry but we don’t have any.” But he was shocked “But ow eez zat? Ouat do you say?” “We don’t serve swiss cones here” Lucy confidently assured him. “But ouat are zose zen?” he said, pointing at the three scones he was asking for.

Grace passed her driving test earlier this year, amazingly in the snow; this means we can all drive now, except for Emily (but at least even Emily can vote as of this year – as the voting age is 16 now in Guernsey). She can of course also legally procreate, but not purchase alcohol or tobacco, which some would argue are essential before and after medicaments. Her parents meanwhile are not sure whether to rejoice or weep. Also Emily is now “the only one without a boy-friend” as she likes to point out (although Jon regularly reminds her that he does not have a boyfriend either). But the fact remains that Grace has now found Ollie, or vice versa (not sure).

Grace, Ollie, Judith & Lucy... supper in Herm naturally!

Ollie Smith, it turns out, is a good mate of Luke Vidamour (Lucy’s man) as they go back to school days. All four of them were part of ChristChurch London until the middle of this year. Now only Grace remains in London, as a second year Maths undergrad, we having poached back most of our Guernsey students who had been on long-term loan to them! Grace also landed on her feet with a plum job in a local finance house for the holidays. It pays well, she loves it, they like her, they are very generous, her Dad is very relieved, etc.

Emily now towers above everyone except her Dad. Of course her hair adds about 12 inches to her height, and she often gets mistaken as our oldest daughter. She also has a Saturday job, working in the same café in the grounds of Saumarez Manor where Lucy used to work. Emily particularly likes doing the washing up there. All day sometimes. She’s really good at it at home too. Now in her GCSE year, Ems favourite subjects are Cooking (or whatever they call this now? Home Economics? Catering? Food Science? Edible Materials?) Photography, and, you guessed it, Art.

No hair, Big hair...

So all you dirty clowns out there swanning around the globe, lecturing on Whiteness and swigging back Margaritas like there’s no tomorrow, there’s probably another £9k p.a. wending its way towards you from yours truly in the next couple of years. No don’t thank me. You deserve it. You really do. Enough already!

Having returned to nursing part-time Judith continues to work a couple of mornings and one afternoon per week, either in community or clinic services and really enjoys both. It suits us as it’s so flexible and means she can say ‘no’ one week without too much difficulty (or guilt!) Also, the uniforms come in handy…

We visited France again (via car ferry to St Malo) late Summer and enjoyed spending some time with our dear friends the Hayters and then took a slow road south to spend a week with our other dear friends Grahame & Helen Atkins at the maison provençale of still more dear friends Ray & Sue Lowe, in Gignac, kindly loaned to us. En route north afterwards we paid our regular dues in St Palais-sur-mer before returning home.

This year has also included sorties into Romania, where we made some great new friends at churches in Brasov and Iasi. We also accepted a kind invitation from our great friends Gareth and Raye Forsey and visited New York and Connecticut, and spent some time with their growing multicultural church in South Norwalk, like the Romanian churches, this represents a company of people with whom we feel increasingly in mission-partnership.

This year has seen some changes in church staff and the exciting development of a new generation of leaders, Jon calls his ‘Young Lions’ who are beginning to take responsibility and shape the future direction of Church on the Rock. It’s been good again to see many newcomers join us from all over the globe – Africa, America, Australia, Europe… and an exciting new initiative in partnership with a couple of other churches has been the establishment of an on-island Kingdom Theological Training Base, in liaison with NWTP and the Westminster Theological Centre. This is opening up for the first time dynamic, live mission-equipping theological training (at graduate and post-grad level) to a whole group of people who would never have access except going off island at great expense. This is the fulfillment of a dream for Jon as 16 students are currently doing the first year.

New York in December

As the year closes, Will, Jon’s Dad is becoming increasingly weak and frail and we wonder how much longer he will be with us. He is totally at peace with God and in his 98^th year is as ready to ‘graduate’ as Millie (Jon’s Mum) was three years ago now. He still lives with us and we need to be around quite a lot at the moment as his mobility is very limited. Which is also partly why this GG did not get done earlier. We hope you have enjoyed this reformation, this first iGazette and we await with anticipation the praise, tributes, honours and accolades, which will no doubt emanate from all four corners of the earth very soon now this is published into the ether. There’s no hurry, but thank you in advance.

Oh, the Aga and the Volvos are doing just fine, thanks for asking.

Until next year, or, if you continue to read this blog – and I advise starting at the beginning to get the full mind-numbing effect, till next time…

Wishing you a very Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year!

With love,

JJLGE

(you know where to find us)

P.S. If you sent us a boring newsletter in which the top highlight was your child’s Grade 4 clarinet exam result we forgive you. But we probably won’t have read it anyway, so please forgive us.