There’s an unnecessarily expensive hotel and restaurant on the headland above Corbière Lighthouse. I’ve just paid £4.10 for a Beck’s Blue without a glass and I’m sitting outside on the terrace. Below and in front lie the western rocks and the causeway clear to the lighthouse. To my left is the radio tower, ugly beautiful, framed by the azure sea. To my right the sun is setting over the sea. It’s half eight in the evening, but we’re still the right side of the solstice. This is the last half an hour of warmth and light this week and I’ve gravitated again to Western edge of the island, looking out across the ocean. I’m raising my beer in a sort of celebration as it seems I’ve only gone and cracked it at long last. The letter came back and it said what I wanted it to say.

I had an i-ching sent to me and the major tone of it was 24 fu “Returning”. On the ferry my tarot was clear as well that this would be a successful trip. I’ve been chanting, praying, asking the universe. But I’ve been so conditioned to expect obstacles that I’m not fully able to process that they appear to have been cleared by Ganesha, by Our Lady Untier of Knots, by my hard work and persistence. At last.

I keep on accidentally crying and I’m not sure if it’s relief, shock or just another unplugging. On hearing the news I almost immediately went to my mother’s grave, and knelt there in conversation quite some time. It’s been a bright day today throughout in Jersey – the good ship is becalmed. I’ve mostly been wearing a t-shirt, it being pretty much the last clean garment I have now. Last night I had a depressed Spicy Curry Pot Noodle in my cheap hotel room. Tonight I had delighted entrecote steak at El Tico and now I’m sipping this expensive fake beer in the sunset. Because I can. Plus I booked two nights at the fort as a kind of strange celebration. Rather then luxury I’m going rough and wild. I’ve got my sleeping bag in my car. If Jersey Heritage accept my application I’ll have two nights completely cut off from civilisation and surrounded by the waves just before I track back by ferry over the sea to Poole in muted triumph.

There’s still tons to be done, but as a proof of concept – it worked. It didn’t come back with more obstacles. I got all the paperwork I needed to sell one of these share certificates without the registrar objecting. There’s a cheque in process. Phew.

And then I rang up Brian to tell him the good news and he’s only gone and come to Jersey. He’s out of quarantine tomorrow. If this isn’t everything aligning at once I have no idea what else I can call it. I’m here in this beautiful place. I have potentially solved the asset-rich-cash-poor thing that’s been chasing me for my whole adult life, and here in the place I was made I can sit and watch a beautiful sunset and know that one of my dearest friends is here and I’ll see them tomorrow.


Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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