Thursday, 1 November 2012

George Cross Island

I arrived here on Tuesday for a few days, " r & r." The last time any of my family was here was some seventy years ago when a cousin of my mother was here with the RAF. Hopefully I will have a quieter time than he did.

It didn't augur too well last night when I was returning to the hotel after having consumed munchies at a small restaurant built out over St George's Bay. The local teenagers augmented by some tourist contemporaries and all clearly fuelled by at the very least copious quantities of falling down juice ,were intent upon celebrating Halloween with loud haranguing. Their presence dictated that I would not take a stroll around the streets. Instead I took evasive action and reverted to my hotel room and the recuperative pleasures of sleep.

The island is much more built up than I had anticipated. For the most part one village or town merges into the next without any intervening country. It is going to be difficult to manage a fast paced run. The footpaths don't necessarily continue from one village centre to the next and the quantity of traffic on the rather narrow coast roads militates against taking to them. Even where there are footpaths the promenaders do rather get in the way. If they were fellow runners on the track I would just, "ease," them out of my way, but I don't expect that what now passes for the blue rinse brigade, ( they are now all blonder than their daughters!) would appreciate the bruise enducing niceties of track etiquette. I may have to resign myself to the running machines in the hotel gym.


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