A weekend in Jersey may not sound like the most high-octane of activities, but for my 80-year-old grandmother it was an unimaginable adventure.
Nana Judy used to be a frequent visitor to the island, but Grandad’s diminished mobility in his later years meant it hadn’t been a practical holiday destination for a couple of decades. After Grandad passed away at the end of last year, I thought it would be nice to take Nana back to Jersey for a mini-break.
I woke Nana up at 05:00, a time of day she hadn’t seen for many moons. Dad kindly chauffeured us to Southend airport, where we swiftly passed through the tin-shed terminal and boarded the plane. Less than an hour later, we were touching down on a patchwork green island, bordered by craggy cliffs laced with pearls of ocean spray.
We had decided to go the whole hog, so checked in to the imperial St. Brelade’s Bay Hotel, before taking our first steps on the golden sand. The crescent of the bay uncurled across the horizon. Our footprints were threaded only with those of early-morning dogwalkers and masochistic swimmers. We wandered along the beach before heading back up to the road and catching a bus to St. Helier.
“Oh, how it’s altered!” Exclaimed Nana Judy, in shock and mild horror. The road had evolved from a winding track tunnelling through arches of trees, past lazy villages lined with tired cottages, to a streaming dual-carriageway pocked by industrial car parks.
We descended into St. Helier from the flashy bus terminal (which had also altered), and weaved through the streets of the shopping quarter. After a quick breakfast we perused the old market, sniffing the flowers and rummaging through dusty antiques. Nana then had a rebellious thought. “Shall we get some bicycles?”
Nana isn’t allowed to cycle, due to her advanced age and frail constitution, so we hired some bikes and went on our way. After a wobbly start and some less than elegant dismounts, we managed to make it to St. Aubin in one piece. We had a bit of lunch, indulged in a spot of people-watching, and then discovered our next antique hoard. Nana collects paperweights, and found a beautiful rose-shaped orb, clear glass swirled with red.
“How much?”
“£22.”
“What’s the cheapest you’ll go?”
“I’m just the Saturday boy – £20.”
“I’ll give you a tenner.”
Nana walked out of the shop with a gleeful grin. “Those episodes of ‘Bargain Hunt’ paid off!”
We cycled back to St. Helier and caught the bus back to St. Brelade’s, where we got ready for dinner. We ate on the seafront, swaddled in blankets, and watched the pastel sky fade into dusky darkness.
The next morning I did something I’m not proud of. I woke up at 6:30 and went for a run. The foamy waves rushed and tumbled over the soft ridges of golden sand. The amber orb of the sun rose steadily over the jagged cliffs. I ran along the treacherous coastal path, got a bit lost, and took a circuitous route back to the hotel which added 4 extra kilometres to my intentions.
After an elongated breakfast, we made our way to the beach, where we hired sun-loungers and dozed, ignoring the brisk wind that was whipping across the bay. “I never thought I’d be doing this,” Nana muttered, smiling wistfully.
We had a pot of tea and an ice-cream (hot and cold combination of dreams), before returning to the hotel for a swim in the pool, nestled in tropical gardens. We then enjoyed a sumptuous afternoon tea with a whole cow’s worth of cream, before settling into a squishy leather sofa in the bar for the evening.
The following day we put our explorer hats on and joined a coach tour of the island. Tony the tour guide took us around the entire circumference, from St. Helier, up to Gronan, St. Catherine’s, St. Mary’s Grève de Lecq, Grosnez, and St. Oen’s before depositing us back at St. Brelade’s. We saw the modulation of the landscape, from the rocky headlands of the north, to luscious green fields grazed by buxom Jersey cows. Tony pointed out innumerable mansions, giving details of their inhabitants and the prices they’d been willing to pay. He also told us tantalising tales of the island’s past, from King Charles II to the German Occupation, giving the clear impression that there was more to discover. We visited places Nana had never been before, and added a few more trips to her bucket list.
In the afternoon we had a pamper session. We treated ourselves to a massage as a final extravagance. Nana sauntered out of the treatment room with a smile; “She found all me aches and pains!” We then packed our bags in preparation for our sorry departure.
Jersey has been a complete surprise. The gorgeous landscapes, tropical climate and welcoming people have made me question why this small paradise just isn’t on the radar. The best part has been sharing this experience with Nana. “We’ve done more than I’ve ever done on a holiday!” The look of joy on her face as she took her first pedals, tucked into a scone or shrieked as the spray of the waves hit the barrier was magical. I saw through the wise lines and silver hairs of her age to the spirit of youth burning within her, full of mischief and adventure. We’ll remember these laughs for a long time to come.
nativeoyster 