Just had to quickly share our dinner tonight. 

We were feeling a little tired so didn’t want to go far from our hotel,  so checked out the restaurant nearby. It was Portuguese. So in we go and a very nice man welcomed us. Turns out he’s  Portuguese and told us there are up to 15,000 Portuguese living on Jersey! 

The food was good and reminded me of our New Year in Portugal,  the year we spent Christmas with Pete and Rob in Lisbon then travelled around the country. We had New Year in a small place called Viseu. I had one of their kebab type thing which comes out on a big skewer on a big hanging frame. Tonight I ordered the same thing. See the photo 

 

 
Just as the waiter was bringing it out,  the door to the small restaurant opened and in walked a fully kitted up Policeman ( police station is just up the road ). He walks in and nearly bumped the waiter carrying this deadly looking skewer ( see skewer with chicken on it ! ) . Mr Policeman sidesteps,  then knocks over a chair. Everyone looked. He apologised and the waiter , who by this time was at our table with the skewer replied. “Anymore of that and I’ll call the Police”. Well everyone just broke up! The Policeman laughed then asked for the order he’d phoned in from the station. When it wasn’t ready he said he’d have to report him if it wasn’t ready soon and now he wanted extra chips. Policeman left and returned 15 mins later to a small round of applause. 

Another earlier start and a quick trot to Albert Wharf. We joined the queue for the tickets only to be serenaded by a choir. This time not the retired life boat seniors but a group of young guys ( turns out it was a 21st) dressed in Sark caps, shorts, some held up with braces , blazers,   holding bottles of beer ( 8am remember ) and water bottles  which appreared to hold not water but something much more swiggable ! Oh it was to be a fun journey. 

Arriving at the wharf in Sark you can pay 1£ to go in the tractor train to the top of the hill and the village. It’s a very steep climb so the tractor got my knees vote. Sark is unique and quite lovely with some of e very best views you could see. It’s also like stepping back in time. 

 
  
The place is special because it has no cars. A few tractors , horse and cart and bikes. It’s so lovely and quiet. No paving. All dirt lanes zig zag across the green fields with sweeping views and glimpses of ocean. Lots of little stone cottages and with a population of 600 a few shops, cafes, PO but nothing too touristy. 

We wandered along leafy lanes rounding corners to find sheep or a horse. We took a horse cart tour and loved the feeling of clip clopping down the quiet lanes. We met a couple on our cart who have lived in Jersey, an hour away, for their whole lives and had never been to Sark before. First time for everything. Sark is also unique because it is a dark island meaning they have no street or public lighting. Star gazing would be amazing. 

 

 
  
  
  
  
We happened upon a soccer match on the village green and it was like a scene out of Midsomer Murders. 

After lots of walking and our cart ride we made our way back towards to wharf for our 5pm return. We hadn’t seen anything of the birthday boys and the few girls they had managed to find but then we heard them. In the beer garden closest to the top of the village. Not sure if they get further in or not.  They were very second hand by then and we had to laugh when we heard one hapless lad Josh had done something worth reporting to the Police. They were at the pants pulling down stage when we saw them. They did make the ferry though and were really not bad at all on the way back. 

We spotted much healthier lads  at  Sark harbour  – crews who had rowed over from Jersey 22 km away. They came rowing in as we were about to board. Much clapping and I’m sure a few drinks were coming their way.  Steve was starting to feel a bit apprehensive at the thought that by next Wednesday he could be in the water swimming an almost equal distance ! 

 

 
  
So back on the boat and now out for dinner. It’s exhausting being on holidays.