pumpkinstrokemarrow

Restaurants rather better than in Epsom, and rather a lot of them for what is quite a small place. Apart from the large amount of sea food we got through, two notable events. First, we were in a restaurant on the wrong side of the St Helier tracks, that is to say to the west of the large hillock on the western edge of town centre, run by a Portuguese and even containing some Portuguese customers, in addition to the home and away Brits. Amongst other things we had a sea food stew based on dried cod. Very good it was too, discovering along the way that dried cod, even when stewed, is a lot more chewy and bony than the fresh sort and not particularly salty. The proprietor explained that in the olden days, where he came from, there would be racks of cod hanging out to dry outside the houses. The real thing. Sadly no more, the dried cod all coming from kilns in factories. We were much taken to find that he knew all about the Estrella in Vauxhall as he stayed in the nearby Comfort Inn when visiting relatives in the vicinity. He was even keener on what sounded like a similar establishment in Stockwell. Must investigate.

Second, it being a wet day, we had spent the morning creeping around St Helier, taking in, in particular, the fish market and the (in large part) vegetable market. Both large iron, indoor affairs of the sort found on the periphery of England and abroad. The vegetable market boasted very large globe artichokes, good looking spring greens (despite it being October) and a walk in weights and measures office. The main function of this last, we were told by the lady behind the jump, was to provide a public personal weighing service, the sort of scales used by doctors and nurses being provided for the purpose. Not the sort of service our own Epsom Council sees fit to offer. The fish market boasted several large fish stalls, carrying far more fish than it looked likely that they would sell that day, so not as fresh as the fish that the man from Hastings sells (Terry). Plus several dinky fish restaurants in outdoor cafe format. Plus a working mens' cafe called 'Choky's cafe' or some such. Customers a mixture of us, hooded youth of both sexes and a rather dodgy looking lady whom I took to be a drug wreck. Served by a lady who looked poor and overworked (having three children to mind as well as the cafe), but who was uniformly kind and pleasant to all comers. I had a very fine bacon and egg bap. Set me up for the rest of the day.

As it happens there was another working mens' cafe by the car park we were in. Looked to be staffed and used mainly by Portuguese. We would have joined in but there were no free tables at the relevant moment so Choky's cafe got the business instead. And next door to that was a large Salvation Army establishment providing a variety of services.

Jersey being a well churched place generally, with lots of churches in addition to the 12 ancient churches for the 12 ancient parishes. Including some really big methodist temples - churches that is with mock classical facades - pillars and all that sort of thing - some right out of the way in the country. There must have been lots of methodist money on the island at some point.

A tradition which we learned went back some 6000 years as there was a very fine stone age church under a hill erected on the highest point on the island. A passage church which must have been about twenty five yards long, lined with pink granite slabs to side and top and ending in a chamber big enough to stand up in. Granite cap stones of this chamber weighing in at 25 tons or something. Orientated so that the rising sun struck down the length of the thing to the altar stone in the inner chamber at dawn of the spring solstice. From the few remains it had been deduced that the thing was a church rather than a sepulchre, despite antedating druids by some millennia. Biggest and best preserved such thing for many miles around. Rather newer church erected on top of the mound just to show who was boss. In between the two traditions there was a rather murderous george and the dragon story. See http://www.jerseyheritage.org/audio-tours/the-spiritual-landscape for the full story.

Plus a bunker memorial to those who died building fortifications during the war; the bunker having housed those who had manned the wooden watchtower which had been erected next to the church on top of the mound. I had been a bit irritated before arrival by the amount of war talk there seemed to be around Jersey, but once there, realised that the fortification are very extensive and very visible. Gun emplacements all over the place. An expensive place - not least in forced labour lives - many Polish or Russian - to fortify.

Plus a nicely presented museum, one section on island geology and one on island archeology.

Plus our own personal trusty to show us around; a much pleasanter experience than being harangued by the National Trust variety in England.

All in all well worth the £20 or so it took to get the two of us in there.