Day 3 of the Channel Islands Tickathon, and the key marginal target of Alderney.
Dangerously close to France, which I remind you has ZERO GBG entries, unless Duncan has found some on his trip.
2,019 souls (aka ‘two thousand alcoholics, clinging to a rock‘), mostly living on the main road that winds through St Anne to Braye Beach.
Note REM Carpets (in the centre), the business bought by Stipe, Mills and Buck after the disastrous response to their 15th album “Collapse Into Now“.
You could walk the whole island in three hours, I did that in 2014, but 30 minutes from the airport will bring you to the cobbled centre and parish church by breakfast time.
I reckon the Blonde Hedgehog served one of the best five breakfasts I’ve ever eaten, certainly the best black pudding, and remember I’ve had the remains of the Chung Hwa in the morning.
It was awfully “Twickenham”, mind, the beardy Rayban dad making great show of picking up my scruffy jacket that had slipped off the back off the chair, and then making a lunch reservation while eating his poached eggs (in a muslin bag). One of the ladies was called Helen. Helen !
You could walk ALL the streets of St Anne in an hour. If I finish the GBG I may walk all the streets of Wythenshawe to compare the two.
Yes, a few famous Sirs have retired here, but there’s still a village feel to the place.
Sonic (2) has just arrived at the picture house, attracting high value sponsorship.
Down at the bay Alderney’s equivalent to Piccadilly Station is only four hours from whirring into life.
And then we’re at the row of gorgeous buildings, including our target pub, down to the beach.
What Pub says the Divers opens at 10:00, but no-one believes What Pub opening times, and with a peep through the window revealing a gloomy interior we resign ourselves for a length wait on sand that is still emerging from our socks a fortnight later.
Mrs RM sleeps, while I keep guard in case of attacks from the killer rabbit.
But eventually, I doze off too.