Jersey, 31st December 1944

On the occasion of the 79th anniversary of the Liberation of Jersey from Nazi occupation, I thought I’d return to a scene I wrote some years ago in my book Tess of Portelet Manor. It’s not the first time I’ve re-used this piece but it is kinda good I think. It is seven months since the D-Day landings but the Channel Islands remain under Nazi rule and conditions are worse than grim for both the islanders and the soldiers who remain and who are losing heart. But today the Red Cross ship SS Vega has docked in Jersey, delivering vital supplies.

“Good morning. May I join you on the wall?” Tess glanced to her left. It was a young German soldier in dark green uniform. She shrugged and looked away. The soldier swung his legs over the wall and sat down. “The people are happy about the supply ship, yes?” Tess shrugged, didn’t look his way and didn’t bother answering. The young soldier seemed to take no offence. He reached inside his tunic jacket and extracted a paper package. Opening it he took out a chunk of bread, maybe a sandwich, and took a bite. He joined Tess in gazing out across the harbour and bay. “May I offer you a sandwich?” The soldier held out the package towards her.
“No thank you.” Her manners defeated her diffidence.
“It is cheese.” Silence reigned. Tess was used to advances from the soldiers and to their crude remarks and she was quite used to treating them with contempt, but she had not tasted cheese in a year or more. He continued, “One day soon, all this will be over. No more fighting. We will live in peace once more. We will all be reunited with our loved ones. Germany will be punished for its aggression and, in time, we will return to this island in a spirit of friendship, not as occupiers. We will ask forgiveness and bring tokens of our regret for our actions. I will not meet you then, so today I offer you this sandwich now as my personal token of regret. Take it, please.”

She looked at him properly for the first time, her eyes brimming with tears. She saw a boy, no older than she, with blue eyes and short, blond hair under his cap. Just a boy, with a mother and father at home, maybe brothers and sisters. A girlfriend perhaps.

And she took the sandwich without a word.

Dodgy Record?

Seventy years ago today Sir Roger Bannister apparently became the first runner to break the mythical four-minute barrier for a mile. Here is the famous photograph as he breasted the finishing tape.

Three minutes 59.4 seconds was the official time. I’ve never heard that anyone queried whether or not that time was accurate. Look at the picture. It shows Bannister just as he breasts the tape. The nearest chap to the white post looks like he’s a timekeeper. Why is he looking at his watch rather than concentrating on the finishing tape? Could it be that he’s already stopped his watch and is now already looking at the time it shows? Maybe he had a side bet that the four minutes would be beaten.

I’ve no idea of the standards and protocols which were adhered to seventy years ago. Maybe they were similar to today but the chap in the photo can’t be following those protocols. Today, at any athletics meeting of a good standard, electronic timing is used. Invariably however, manual timekeepers are also present in case of mishap with the technology. A good, trained timekeeper is quite likely to come within 0.1sec of the electronic time in most cases – they can get pretty grumpy and annoyed if they don’t. Now, timekeepers are trained to start their stopwatches on seeing the smoke/flash from the starting pistol. Of course it takes time for that signal to reach the timekeeper, more time for the brain to register this and to send a signal down to the hand holding the watch, then a final delay as the button is pressed and the watch begins its timing.

This overall delay will typically be 0.2 – 0.3 seconds, which we call ‘reaction time’. To allow for this reaction time as the athlete finishes, the timekeeper must delay depressing the finish button by the same amount of time. The athlete can be well past the finish line by the time the watch stops and the time is registered. This takes a lot of practice.

Now tell me, does it look to you that the gentleman with the watch is interested in allowing for any reaction time? He’s not even looking at the athlete. If he’s stopped his watch at 3:59.4 the proper time will be pretty close to four minutes.

But wait, maybe he’s not the official timekeeper but a bloke who’s just wandered in. Who are all those people anyway? The bloke sitting down looks like he’s got a toothache, what’s he doing? I don’t know about 1954 but nowadays only officials will be allowed inside the track and there will be a bank of place judges in line with the finish. On the outside of the track will be the official timekeepers. Maybe the proper timekeepers are there, taking proper times. But for me I reckon the race ought to be re-run.

Assuming Sir Roger’s time stands, was it really the first four-minute mile anyway just because the cameras were there, it was Britain who ruled the world and the runners were a bunch of posh students from Oxford University? Wikipedia gives us other contenders:

James Parrott on 9th May 1770 ran a measured mile along Old Street, London finishing at Shoreditch Church inside four minutes.

A chap called Weller ran one mile along Banbury Road, Oxford in 3:58 on 10th October 1796.

Big Hawk Chief, a Pawnee tribesman, ran a mile in 3:58 in Wyoming in late 1876 or early 1877.

Glenn Cunningham was reckoned to have run a four-minute mile in training in the USA in the 1920s.

But I know from experience (being a club statistician) that old, dubious records can only ever be overturned if sufficient evidence comes to light. For example, the Jersey Island senior long jump record dates from 1949 when it was set by Harry Askew who taught for a year or two here at Victoria College and who had represented England in the 1948 Olympics. There are periodic calls for the record to be expunged, lack of a wind-speed reading being cited. But for now, Harry’s record stands firm as will Sir Roger’s.

The Stardust, Justice at Last

A momentous day.

Several of my posts have been on the subject of the Stardust Tragedy of 1981 – you can find these in the Search bar to the left. The last of these posts signalled the beginning of what will be the final, long-delayed inquest. It is worth repeating here what one of the relatives of the killings (yes we can say that now) had to say – “Marie has been lost in the smoke and devastation of the Stardust for too long. The decades-long fight for answers has taken far too much from us already. So today we are taking her back and remembering her life. We are reclaiming her from the darkness and despair and bringing her back into the sunlight where she belongs.”

Today the jury returned a verdict. The choices were, in respect of each of the 48:

  • Accidental death
  • Misadventure
  • Unlawful killing
  • Open verdict
  • Narrative verdict

The verdict was, by a majority in each case, Unlawful Killing. At last, after 43 years during which time the Irish State prolonged matters as far as they could, the tenacity of the survivors and their families have the best justice available to them.

The 48 children who never came home

Birthdays

How is it that the passing years
Which previously passed so gently
Now gather pace like cavaliers
And drop their dates intently

It seems that they’ve caught up with me
These years of seventy-one
The race is nearly over, see
One day soon it will be run

One birthday that I can replay
Fifty years today in fact
It might be almost yesterday
My memory is intact

My twenty-first a famous day
We went out on the town
My office colleagues led the way
A few beers to get down

The Crown, The Windsor, The Old Royal
Through Birmingham we swayed
A curry seemed a good idea
Especially as I paid

We drank some more and then some left
Their buses to get home
Until at last I was bereft
They’d left me on my own

It was General Election night
You can check it and it’s true
I gave the counters quite a fright
“Who’s winning, Red or Blue?”

And at that stage I just threw up
The beer and curry too
I hope that someone cleaned it up
And the roadway did renew

So that was fifty years ago
Don’t ask how I survived
I don’t remember any more
But at seventy-one I’ve arrived

And so we go our merry way
We don’t know just how long
How many years we’ve got to stay
To our doom we race headlong

February

A depressing month, a nothing month
Too empty to define
Dark and drizzly, no one smiles
A tramp enduring endless miles
His only thoughts malign

No fresh beginnings, nothing new
Just more of all the same
The chilly air, the vacant stare
The constant feeling I don’t care
Nowhere to lay the blame

Where are the brighter days he cried
The ones the solstice promised
The empty cart, the heavy heart
The not knowing where to start
This month is just the cruellest

January promised much, its talk of resolution
The old year out, the new one in
Yet that was all a lie
A trick to have us all comply
It didn’t mean a thing

Yet March will come though slowly yet
But Feb’s end still brings a tear
My age is great
But the 28th
Ticks off yet another year

*PS – It’s all right, don’t call an ambulance 🙂

The Saving of Mont Orgueil

Sir Walter, knock it down the Queen did say
Dear Mont Orgueil is old and obsolete
Our enemy is near, do not delay
And see that my new castle is complete

Your Majesty if I might humbly pray
Four hundred years is not so old in truth
If we allow this grand old place to stay
Then with your fine new castle we’ll have both

The Queen she stroked her chin and then declared
Brave Raleigh then I’ll stand with your request
While France persists I think it can be spared
Two well defended castles would be best

And so today Mont Orgueil still stands tall
And many people come to see its charm
But though they fancy they have seen it all
The ghosts of old are there but won’t alarm

They will not hear the witches loudly scream
The men who fought and died aren’t far away
A sudden movement might be just a dream
The lock unlocked is just a ghost at play

Instead enjoy the view of Grouville Bay
The coast of Normandy is clear to see
And when they’re tired of all the steps
It’s always nice to buy a cup of tea

The castle’s stood eight hundred years and more
And will remain after we’ve gone for sure

The Christmas Cake

A little after the event, here is a little poem you might like. It’s written by TP O’Mahoney of Ballyvolane, Cork, Ireland and appeared in the Holly Bough, the Christmas edition of the Echo newspaper.

I saw her in the crowded shop,
old beyond her years, careworn,
badly dressed, she fingered the square of cake;
Gingerly
.
It wasn’t even a whole cake;
just a square,
Cut carefully, it would make
four modest slices.
Just four.
“How much?” the woman anxiously asked.
The amount I have long since forgotten.
But it wasn’t much;
not much at all.
I’ve squandered ten times
as much in a tour of

three or four pubs – easily.
I saw the look on the woman’s
pinched, tired, once-lovely face.
Somewhere in the city her children waited.
Somewhere.
Sadly, she shook her head
;
the price was too much.
Too much!
And me downing it
ten times over in pints.
Regularly.
Shoulders slumped, she walked away.
I wanted to follow.
I wanted to buy that one square of cake
and give it to her.

But I didn’t have the nerve or the gumption.
Or perhaps it was decency
that I lacked.
Now, every Christmas, in every
shop I go into
I see that woman’s face.
And like the face of a lost
loved one, it haunts me.
And I curse my timidity,
and I curse the way
the world is divided.
Very, very unevenly.
A bit like Christmas cake.

Running Round Up 2023

Well my running year ended in a whimper as I picked up a bug on the 23rd December and was unable to run the well-attended Boxing Day 10k. I was then work-tied for the Bouley Bay Hill Climb and, this morning, a final run out with the Skivers and Slackers group was cancelled after a Red weather warning, so we went straight to the coffee for a change.

But 2023 has been fun. Moving into the M70 group at the end of February meant that I could challenge for prizes in a few of the races, a rare treat for an average runner. In reality there are very few of us in Jersey still competing at age 70, the best being Bob Hurst who is now well into his eighth decade and who has represented England in the M75 age group. Fortunately Bob doesn’t do many of the local races!

Health and weight
I continue to be very fortunate health wise – no injuries or illness until I picked up that bug a few days back. My vegan lifestyle has undoubtedly helped a lot in this regard, even though I might cheat a little at times. The way I train helps me avoid injuries and this is vital as the years fly by. Weight-wise I do have to be careful but I’ve managed OK in that department.

Mileage
For me this is a vital area – keep up the miles and performance will follow. I finished the year on 2,237kms (1,390 miles) compared with 2,310 in 2022 and 2,283 in 2021.

Training
I try to get out of the door 4 – 6 times a week and I have a weekly target of 50km in my head, though I don’t often hit that. Most of this training is done at an easy pace – it’s my firm view that speedwork at my age won’t produce significant gains and I run the risk of a show-stopping injury from which I might not recover. A few track sessions of long intervals maybe, but otherwise I get my speed done in a race context.

This year I have however made a big effort to include hills, which are less impactful on the lower limbs. I’ve been logging most of Jersey’s big hills and knocking them off one by one. I’ve long believed that one should welcome hills in as training friends, not avoid them. A positive attitude to our hilly friends works wonders.

The Races
17 Jan – Spartan 5k 24.26. As always, anything in the 24s is good.

28 Feb – Spartan 5k 24.05.

11 March – Spartan 8k 40.29.

21 March – Spartan 5k 24.10.

25 March – Hospice Half-Marathon 1:53.00. My first ‘podium’, 2nd M70, beaten only by Bob Hurst. Very happy with this.

1 April – Spartan Spring 10k 50.12 – happy with time though aiming for sub-50. What a lousy turnout though, 35 runners only.

11 April – Spartan 5k 24.25.

14 May – Durrell Challenge 13k 1:14, slightly slower than last year, 133rd out of 276. Always one of the highlight races of the year with some killer hills.

10 June – Jersey Half-Marathon 1:58.21. What a struggle right from the start so happy to go sub-2. 173rd out of 379 and my first M70 win.

22 June – Sunset Trophy 29.14. Distance of 5.2k irrelevant really for this lung-buster up the sand dunes. Attaining the level high ground alive seems a win in itself with the flat/downhill finish to follow.

24 June – Headway 10k 51.27 on a very warm morning. First M70.

4 July – Spartan 5k 23.57, my fastest of the year.

20 July – Spartan 8k 41.11.

19 August – Jayson Lee 10k 50.37. Over a minute slower than last year but still good to be competing in what seems to be the penultimate running of this great community event. 87th out of 251.

3 September – Spartan Half-Marathon 1:58.33, 145th out of 231. A right battle in the second half as the temperature soared. Just run out of the M70 prize by Bernie Arthur.

12 September – Spartan 5k 24.25.

15 Sept – Night of the 5000 PBs, a series of graded 5,000 metre races held on the track, 24.02. A new event and the first venture onto the track for many. I ran in the first and slowest of the heats, went out faster than I’d planned and had to hang on for grim death as I was chased down. Great fun though and happy with that time.

8 October – Autumn 10k 51.38 on the St Catherine course. Disappointing time really.

24 October – Spartan 5k 24.32.

18 November – Running for Frubbs Headway 10-miler, 1:28 and first M70. A really tough battle in a near-gale but happy to pick up my prize.

3 December – Durrell Dash (11.4k) 62.30, 83rd out of 167, a few seconds quicker than last year.

So, what next? Nothing for it but to re-set the clock to zero and head into 2024. I’m still thoroughly enjoying my running and I believe this all adds to general wellbeing of both body and mind. I love the training, but particularly the races – there is a lovely running community in Jersey. And there’s no doubt that the running scene in the Island is healthy in numbers. It’s well-acknowledged that the standard at the higher end has fallen a long way from where it was 30-40 years ago, but the numbers participating are healthy and growing. And I’m happy to still be a part of it.

Strange stories from Jersey

So today is the Winter Solstice, the day that the sun stands still. As such it is thought one of the more magical dates in our calendar. I thought I’d share three brief accounts of ‘high strangeness’ occurring here in Jersey which I’ve been told recently. Two are second hand sources, one is first hand. I’ll start with the latter.

  • Some time ago my informant was driving along a country road, in broad daylight, with someone in the passenger seat. A grey wolf-like creature – definitely not a dog – loped across and above the road in front of them, disappearing into a field. Both driver and passenger saw this.
  • A five-year-old boy was taken by his parents to Mont Orgueil, a medieval castle on Jersey’s east coast, a major tourist attraction. The parents were quite sure the boy had never been there previously. As the group approached the castle the boy became animated, saying that he had been here before. He appeared to be familiar with the castle, knowing where to go, what was around the next corner etc.
  • A tradesman (who I’d love to meet) was due to do a piece of work at the Old Court House pub at St Aubin. The origins of the pub go back several centuries. Walking into the oldest part of the building he stopped: the scene that met him was one from Victorian times with several people in the bar area dressed accordingly. He locked eyes with one man, each clearly seeing the other. This went on for a number of seconds, a classic time slip.

I’m hoping in time to gather together a collection of such experiences from our little island. It seems to me that there is a lot going on but, as with such stories, people are generally reluctant to share. Start chatting to people though and they can be encouraged, maybe on an anonymous basis.

A load of rubbish or worth investigation?

Books I’ve Read in 2023

Listing the books I’ve read in 2023. Excludes those few that I’ve bailed out of, unfinished – life’s too short. These days I review most of my read books on Goodreads though I’ll occasionally just leave a star rating. Anybody have a match with the list below?

TitleAuthorStar rating (out of five)
Small Things Like TheseClare Keegan3
Dead Scared (Lacey Flint #2)Sharon Bolton5
Are We Having Fun YetLucy Mangan4
Alone on the RidgewayHolly Worton4
The TreesPercival Everett4
Dirt TownHayley Scrivenor4
Tipping Point (Project Renova #1)Terry Tyler4
Lucky JimKingsley Amis2
Shoe DogPhil Knight4
Like This, For Ever (Lacey Flint #3)Sharon Bolton5
The BowlplayerT O’Mahony3
A Dark and Twisted Tide (Lacey Flint #4)Sharon Bolton5
The Spire ChronicleAnonymous4
Faceless KillersHenning Mankell3
Shrines of GaietyKate Atkinson5
Not Dead Yet – The MemoirPhil Collins5
Dead Woman WalkingSharon Bolton5
Blood Runs ColdJM Dalgleish4
SalvageRichard Kearney4
Secrets in Blood (Wild Fens #1)Jack Cartwright4
The Lost Bookshop Evie Woods5
One for Sorrow (Wild Fens #2)Jack Cartwright4
In Cold Blood (Wild Fens #3)Jack Cartwright4
An Idler’s ManualTom Hodgkinson3
The Land of the Green ManCarolyne Larrington4
Suffer in Silence (Wild Fens #4)Jack Cartwright4
Dying to Tell (Wild Fens #5)Jack Cartwright4
This Is HappinessNiall Williams5
Lifesaving for BeginnersCiara Geraghty4
Fake HistoryJo Hedwig Teeuwisse4
Sport in Modern Irish LifePaul Rouse4
The Puppet Maker (Alana Mack #1)Jenny O’Brien4
Stolen SisterLinda Huber4
Into the UncannyDanny Robins4

34 books. Hardly prolific, but my reading is generally limited to an hour or so in the late evening. I have emphasised in bold the two books I most highly recommend, plus anything at all by the very clever, very noir Sharon Bolton.