Castle Cornet stood proud in the afternoon Channel Island sun. The centuries old

And worn facade that had withstood civil hostilities in the household

The Emperor, the writing of Hugo as he gazed down enquiringly from his exile and to

Those whose heinous crimes and morally tattered flag that still live in the minds of Guernsey folk.

The walls shook and trembled at our first meeting where I asked you the time

As you walked, wandered past me, youthful hips wiggled and laughed.

A sly scenic smile upon your lips that were three months older than mine

And I listened, fully spellbound by Norfolk’s speech and with the sound

Of the Albatross rhythm and drumming heart giving credence to your words.

I thanked you, started to walk on but turned back hurridly, the albatross in full flight,

The crescendo of the ending to come.

Had you ever been inside Castle Cornet I asked? An unnatural shyness fell on my words

And devoured them greedily, flustered I pointed along the concrete pathway

To the beauty I visited every year as the noon day gun heralded my approach.

Norfolk words signalled that you hadn’t

And whilst you wouldn’t be the first I would be entranced by and not deserving

To hold conversation with,

You were at that point the most exotic as you reminded me

Of A Break In the sun.

The storming of Castle Cornet was easily completed as they knew me there.

Slipping in was easy,

Getting out was so much harder as I never liked to leave the history on offer.

The Little Chapel holds magnificent beauty,

It doesn’t hold the fascination of a sixteen year old boy

As the protection and ghosts of Cornet.

The afternoon spent as I showed you round exhibits and rooms,

Secret places that only I and millions of visitors to those ramparts knew.

Fascinated by you I gained courage but too soon

The day was over, sealed with a kiss on the ramparts to the stones that guarded

The Channel’s jewel, we parted and I made my way back home with that albatross in my ears.

 

Ian D. Hall  2013.

Dedicated to Elaine Carter.