We booked a taxi for 5:30 am and the driver turned up on time and got us to the station by 5:40. First doubtful plan was successfully completed, but it meant we missed the great breakfast at the B & B. We caught a slow train to Southampton and bought a sausage sandwich for breakfast. Then we boarded an even slower train (no first class on either of these trains but plenty of space). It got us to Poole on schedule at 9:23 and the cutoff time for the ferry was 9:20, so we hoped having got through stage two of our plan for this morning we might fudge stage three. We asked the guard where the taxis were and he said "next to the other platform", meaning we had to run down the ramp, under the lines and up the ramp to the far end of the taxi queue. The driver took over and assured us we would make it. He got us to the terminal at 9:35 where all the staff were ready to close off and they rushed us through, telling us we were only just in time. It reminded us of our rush to board the Moscow train in St Petersburg where the scowling lady guard closed the door after us and the train took off as we sat down. This time we completed stage three by a whisker.
On board we found that our seats were the closest possible ones to the bar and a mob of young men in Hawaiian shirts and leis determined to have a party. They were loud and continuously drinking but not badly behaved.
We were allowed to go to the viewing platform and enjoy the sun and the coastline as we passed the white cliffs of Poole.
The ferry was new in November and called Liberation, which was probably related to the 70th anniversary of the end of German occupation of the Channel Islands. It docked at 1:35pm and we faced the final challenge of the day to find the Grisnoir guest house, which was one mile uphill. We followed our noses up the hill, getting quite warm for once, and found the Abbey Hotel, which we knew was very close to Grisnoir. The manager told us that Grisnoir was not available, but it was actually under the same ownership, so we were being upgraded to an ensuite room in the Hotel. We had to wait till 3pm for the room to be ready, but we felt really pleased that everything worked out well on the day that had us most worried by our plan.
After unpacking we set off back down the hill for dinner and followed signs to the Guernsey Museum which was proud to have hosted a concert by the ubiquitous four.
The museum was small, but covered all aspects of the island's history very well, from the stone age when the land became separated from the continent to the recent modern painters who lived there. Possibly the favourite son here was Victor Hugo, who exiled himself from France because of his republican ideas. Les Miserables Volume IV that Malcolm is reading this week has several chapters explaining his political views. Rodin persuaded him to allow a bust to be sculpted, but Victor would not pose. He was 80 years old. Not sure whether this is the original, but it was very hard to the touch.
We found a shop that boasted the best Cornish Pasties in the world, and because they were about to close they sold us two for two pounds. They were very good indeed.
This hotel even has a laundry, so we have access to a washer and drier for the first time since the Queen Mary 2.
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