Cycling
Green leafy lanes trundle by and I feel the caress of warmth on my face.
Tingling smell of fresh sea air tickles my nostrils.
Glorious cacophony of colour at a hedgeveg stall bombards my senses and I stop to pick fresh plump tomatoes.
The crisp pound note rustles as it enters the money box.
I reach the coast.
An austere German wood shuttered concrete bunker glares at me, in contrast to the smile of a round Martello tower.
High tide waves sprinkle spray and I taste the salty drops.
Glorious summer
Island life on Guernsey
Freedom, happiness
