I took a photo of the Southampton Airport sign, but it was spoiled by boastful island pretending to be a holiday destination instead of an insular bubble full of egomaniacs.
We walked into the airport as we have every year on this day, To wait for the arrival. The lone and destroyed Jersey abuse victim. No one can arrive alone and having been destroyed and imprisoned and left homeless and destitute. No-one should have to do that. So hands reach out from the future to the past.
What we are doing is knitting the massive psychological wound. A wound that will never be properly mended but can, with time, become bearable. Although the onslaughts against HG by the Church and States of Jersey means that there may not be time, However, commemoration, memorial, outlet for grief, are all good reasons for the anniversary journey tradition to continue.
We have planes, shall we take one?
Lets go and see Uncles Phil and Ian and friends and have stern words with them about their very norty behaviour. I approve of norty as long as it is norty but nice, but they are real norty step material. Not Nice At All.
We slow down and glide, and I look
my island, clear and sharp against the blue sky
this is my home, this is all I have known
this is my island, and I have come home