This Is Guernsey

AS WITH most good things, you only really notice it when it’s gone. Not many islanders can even remember a time when Herm has not been under the caring stewardship of some member of the Wood family, either father or daughter.

During the 59 years since Major Peter Wood took over the lease, Herm has certainly changed, but only at an acceptably slow pace.

Of course, the hotel has gone from uninhabitable to delightful and a camping and self-catering mini-industry has been set up to complement the Mermaid Tavern and Ship Inn.

But, on the whole, a visitor walking the coastal route from the pub to Shell Beach would scarcely notice a difference through the decades. The glorious view is uninterrupted, the path rudimentary, the common land unmanicured. It’s hard work with a pushchair, but that only adds to the charm.

On land, Shell Beach itself is still an expanse of glorious, unspoilt dune. It is only when you look out to sea and find Sark and France lost behind a forest of superyachts that you remember that life in the rest of the world has moved on.

The £15m. sale of Herm’s lease presents Treasury and Resources with a unique challenge. Finding a tenant who has not only the cash but the genuine desire to continue the good work of the Woods and Heyworths will not be easy.

Articles in the national press only serve to illustrate the problem. Herm is portrayed as a tax haven, a chance to lord it over your own personal island, a mini-fiefdom away from the crowds of London.

In that light, visitors are to be grudgingly tolerated, not cherished.

So when Roman Abramovich parks his latest cruise liner in the Little Russel and takes a fancy to the little island to the east, islanders have to hold their breath and pray that money can’t buy everything.

What is needed, and what the lease must demand, is a laissez-faire tenant determined to polish the shining jewel of the Channel Islands for everyone, not one determined to break large chunks of it off as his or her personal playground.