Big Sark Welcomes the Kiwis

It’s a rare wet day on Sark today and it’s my day off, so I’m sitting in my favourite cafe, Shenanigans with my favourite barista, Scarlet (who by her own admission, is a witch) watching the bees in the beehive (yes, quirky cafe) and listening to the roosters outside having a crow off. If I look outside, passed the misty rain, I can see Guernsey in the west and France in the east.

By shear default I am living my dream. The old saying, ‘be careful what you wish for’ comes to mind, but in this case, at last, it’s in a good way. Astrid and I are living in a 16th century stone 3 story home with horse and carriages passing our gate regularly. Think Miss Bennet and Mr Darcy. We have been deemed responsible enough to lock up the La Seignerie gardens in the evenings, which, of course, for us, involves a glass of wine or a picnic dinner in the gardens before the fountains are turned off. I am able to wander around the herb garden at my will, to gather herbs for the cafe and Astrid and I buy our vege from the little stall. It’s all so quaint and actually, just what I was hoping for when I started this journey. And as I say, by default it is happening. Be careful what you wish for, folks.

Pearla and Pearla in the kitchen

We have found ourselves in the kitchen at Hathaways Cafe, which is part of the gardens. I’d like to think of myself as head chef, but actually, I’m a struggling cook multi, multi tasking. I mean, it takes years of training to become a competent chef, so why do I expect to be able to produce magic in the kitchen after a few weeks.

After a particularly harrowing day in the kitchen, where the blame for all things came back to us, all Astrid and I could summon the energy to do was to watch BBC1. By a strange quirk of fate, Chef Gordon Ramsey was attacking a poor chef, Pearla, who was not coping with his new ways in the kitchen. She was in tears and both Astrid and I were feeling extremely sorry for her. To make light of sometimes stressful kitchen situations, we now call ourselves Pearla and Pearla. Pearla, I think your scones (pronounced scoans) are burning. Thanks Pearla, can you help with 3 chips, 4 scoans, 2 lasagne, 3 ploughmans, 2 choc milkshakes and 5 crab sandwiches for table 8? No, sorry Pearla, the dishes are piling up.

Migrant Exploitation, Workplace Harrassment and Cruelty to Lobsters – (Lobstergate)

The reality of being seasonal workers has finally hit us. It’s taken a while. So there’s no ‘how do we get the best out of our staff’, or ‘we are working together in a democratic environment, so we value your thoughts’. It’s more, ‘you are in the kitchen, so it’s up to you, but this is what I want and we are going to try it’. We are OK with lasagne or frying chips (that vat of oil is so scary!) but we both absolutely refused to kill, cook and cut lobsters (not allowed to call them crayfish). From the beginning it’s been a definite no. Naturally, being seasonal workers we weren’t listened to and enter the lobster. Front of house lady had to kill and chop them. I made the salad. When Front of house lady had a day off, we took them off the menu, and generous Pearla actually gave one away to our hard working gardener, Chris. We are in big trouble as they went passed their use by date and all had to be given away, thus reducing profits. The island is abuzz with lobstergate and the Kiwis are becoming famous for not sticking to ‘you are a seasonal worker so you do as you are told because you are expendable and only here for a few more weeks’. Please readers, don’t message me with the ‘but you eat meat’ thing. I know I’m a hypocrit. Pearla and I have decided that if we open our own cafe we’ll go vegie. Pearla is in the kitchen on her own today with not a lobster in sight. I think the Pearlas have won this round of Lobstergate, but tomorrow is another day.

Big Sark Life

Sark is divided into two areas, joined by a narrow neck called La Coupe. La Sablonnerie is on Little Sark and the rest of the island is called Big Sark, so it’s fitting that our experience here is also divided into Little Sark Life and Big Sark Life.

Big Sark Life is so different from the slavery existence of Little Sark Life. We now have time to get to know the locals and I now find myself stopping to chat to people who have become our friends. Cycling around involves waving to people who are now familiar. We also have time to do things. Memorable occassions are; a stunning Tchaikovsky piano recital in the palace drawing room, an after Sheep Racing Day function (memorable because the band was drunk so their rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody was laughable), picnics in the gardens, swimming in beautiful rock pools, visits to the local pub for G&Ts, meeting people who are staying in the B&B part of our house, doing my bit for the Britain in Bloom competition – Sark is a finalist and I did some weeding in our rose garden before the judges came. And most recently, being invited to dinner to Jo the Head Gardener’s. I think the whole village knew she was having the kiwis for dinner and made a special point to provide us with Sark lamb.

The traditional Sark greeting is, Hello, are you alright?, often condensed down to Alright? I’m thinking that it needed to be condensed for those biking by or passing in the tractor. It’s a mouthful when passing quickly. So, we ARE alright. Our Big Sark Life is grand. We are busy in the kitchen, often busier than we would like to be, but we are also stacking up some great hospitality skills. We can see the end of the season in sight and are starting to plan our next moves. Holiday time!

The rain has stopped and the skies have cleared, so it’s back on my bike to head to the village to stock up on supplies and maybe wander over to Little Sark to say hi to my La Sablonnerie pals. I hope I don’t get stuck behind a slow horse and carriage. It’s a mission negotiating around and Pearla and I haven’t quite worked out the protocol for bikes passing carriages.