Posties in Guernsey are hard. They wear shorts and ride bicycles even in the winter. I couldn't help feeling that the photographer let them down with their
calender this year though and I'm not sure why the one I nearly ran over this morning chose bicycle number 13.
The pub round the corner from my new house has had a make over. It's good. There are comfy sofas and wooden floors; somehow it seems bigger. I was very grateful that they are still serving exactly the same menu at exactly the same prices. It would have been easy for them to turn it into a trendy gastro-pub. Don't get me wrong; I like trendy gastro-pubs but Guernsey has plenty of those and sometimes what you really want is a homemade burger and curly fries or a good old fashioned roast. Good on them for looking after the regulars, that's what I say.
The first time I came home late from the pub and saw the bins being emptied I thought I was hallucinating. However, Guernsey bin men really do work through the night. I suppose it must be because the lanes are so narrow and busy here, they'd back up the whole island on bin day. Still it must pay well.