Following our first night debacle at The Inn Boutique, we decided upon taking the safe option and checked out, spending the additional cash that guaranteed, if nothing else, a catch up on the sleep deprivation we had suffered on Friday evening/Saturday morning.

The general manager at The Boutique arrived to see us on Saturday morning and attempted to talk us into to staying on, but we stuck to our guns, despite her kindly sending us a huge bottle of Champagne to drink with our breakfast. This resulted in us both getting a bit tipsy in front of the other bemused guests who must have assumed we had deep seated alcohol issues.

The beautiful view from The Grand Jersey Hotel

We walked to the Grand Jersey to sober up and despite the additional cost we were still impressed at how palatial it was. The staff welcomed us warmly on arrival and the only minor issue I had was a pink trouser wearing guest aged about sixty-five who appeared to be taking a holiday from the House of Lords to rabidly stare at Justine’s cleavage. This was not an attempt at a disguised glance that all us pathetic men are guilty of from time to time, this was an eternity of perverted salivation that was really nagging at my central nervous system.

It was an awkward situation, as judging by the colour of his head, this pervert was clearly a heart attack waiting to happen. However, being tired and slightly tipsy from the Champagne, I was desperate to challenge him and in doing so, cause a scene I would undoubtedly regret. Fortunately, Justine stopped me in my tracks, gave him a sarcastic look and turned her back on him. That was a really class moment, a battle won without words, with the defeat of someone who thought because of his pompous stature, he was entitled to lecherous behaviour.

So, with yet another incident thankfully avoided, we wandered in to town (St Helier) and I was rather disappointed to discover that it is, in all honesty, not that different from any other British town centre, slightly nicer than Reading, Basingstoke or Southampton perhaps, but not as nice as Oxford, Guildford or Salisbury. Featuring the obligatory chain of High Street shops with the odd independent one here and there, it is not particularly inspiring but not unpleasant either.

We stopped for a drink in a pub which, as well as satisfying my thirst, also allowed me to keep up my 100 per cent record of stumbling across an alcoholic Glaswegian every time I go on holiday or a weekend break. These individuals always inform me that they came to the destination thirty years ago on a holiday and never went back. Fuelled with Tennants Extra they are always overtly friendly to me in the most terrifying manner; I just know that with one loose comment, they can turn on a sixpence.

Fortunately, on this occasion it was only about 2.00 pm so he was fully six hours away from his first fist fight of the day and we were left alone to enjoy our drinks and meander back to the hotel for a freshen up before heading off for a meal at Danny’s, a restaurant recommended to us, that was just down the road from St Helier in the beautiful port of St Aubins.

The Beautiful port at St Aubins

There are several restaurants on the front at St Aubins and whilst  I am sure they are all very good,  you can take it from me that  Danny’s was excellent and I will happily recommend it without fear of ridicule.  At £65.00 for the two of us with a decent bottle of wine to wash it down with, it represented great value for money from an excellent menu. It was a bustling and friendly atmosphere with a genuine holiday feel to it and a great way to end the day.

So after a hearty and much needed sleep in our plush room, on Sunday morning, we took a trip back in to town to find some earrings Justine had decided she had wanted the previous day without, somewhat curiously, actually buying them there and then. This error of shopping tactics came with cruel punishment as (I might as well warn you now chaps) the shops, or most of them, don’t open on Sundays. St Helier town centre is like it was here thirty odd years ago.

This left us to wander down into Liberty Wharf, a clinical retail centre that reminded me of those soulless places like Gun Wharf Quay in Portsmouth or the Bicester and Swindon retail outlets from Hell. I really hate these places, I am not sure why, I just do okay. However, credit where it is due, I have heard they are very good places if you are looking for a pair of  green Levis featuring a 48″ waist and a 24″ leg.

As well as not having anything I want, these places always seem to bereft of any happiness, accentuated by The Lighthouse Family miserably piping out of the sound system; it is as if though when the developer builds these soulless developments, he gives away a soulless CD to the landlord to assist with the general ambiance of the surroundings.

“Cause we could be lifted, lifted, lifted…..” 

Retail outlets deserve that song.

Anyway, after a coffee and a stroll around the nicer part of the front that overlooks the beautiful beach and Elizabeth Castle it was time to head home and reflect on what was a really diverse weekend that on the whole I and indeed we, enjoyed.

So as a summary;

The Boutique Hotel – Avoid Room 115

The Grand Jersey – Lovely and it should be at £180 a night (and that was an offer)

Danny’s restaurant – Excellent

Shopping – Average (the alleged tax free benefits are non-existent)

Beaches – Lovely

The New St Helier Harbour Area – Ugly (Think Basingstoke Leisure Park)

Flybe Airways – Fantastic value

Would we get married there in a year or two? I think so, but we were both agreed we would have to go back at some point to make sure.

However, not to room 115 at the Boutique Inn!