This Is Guernsey

What is an ormer? How do you pronounce the local names? And who was Guernsey Tom?

The ormer is a Guernsey delicacy.

THOSE who arrived in Guernsey by air will have landed in the Forest. They may have noticed that there is no such collection of trees in the area.

If you came by car ferry, you will have landed at the White Rock. It is, of course, a harbour, not a rock - and how many white ones do you see anyway?

There is no river to cross in the shopping centre known as the Bridge.

Trinity Square is triangular.

The Cycling Grounds is a football pitch generally known as The Track. This is in what is usually referred to as Track Lane - but is really called Victoria Avenue.

Such geographical oddities just evolve over the centuries and give a place part of its character.

Local people have, for many years, been known as donkeys (something to do with stubbornness) but, more recently, the term Guern has evolved.

The now-retired Southampton and England footballer is probably the best-known Guernsey person at the moment - and the fact that he stuck with one club throughout his career could be described as stubborn.

As a player, he was anything but that - in fact, the unfulfilled genius midfielder of the 1990s could illuminate a match with one flash of brilliance. But he wasn’t going to chase all over the pitch all afternoon, Beckham-style, and it was this that cost him a regular place in the England team.

Other notable locals? How about John Savident, Coronation Street’s Fred Elliott?

There was another footballer in the 1950s called Len Duquemin, who starred consistently for Tottenham Hotspur, while Richard ‘Flip’ Le Flem graced First Division grounds with his skills during an all-too-brief career in the 60s.

We had a women’s world squash champion during the 1980s in the shape of Martine Le Moignan, one of whose chief rivals was another Guernsey girl, Lisa Opie.

Andy Priaulx

In the world of motor sport, Andy Priaulx is a successful and popular driver at the moment. Whether he will make it to Formula 1 must be in doubt because of his advancing years, but stranger things have happened.

Note how all of these people have surnames that make you think twice. Such is life over here.

The world eventually got used to pronouncing Matt’s name - Le Tiss-ee-ay - but only after a spell of efforts such as Le Tizz-ee-er.The commentators must have been relieved that Martine was in a sport that wasn’t big in TV or radio, or they would have had to contend with saying Le Moynyan.

Len’s name is pronounced Dookmin, while, with Lisa, it is Ohpee. Le Flem looks as it sounds.

As for Andy, it is easier than it appears. Pree-oh. John is a Savidaw (over here, but put a dent on the end in the UK).

The confusing thing in all of this is that our names are not pronounced religiously in the true French way, nor in the English corruptions. You just have to listen to how people do it - and say it like that.

One of the criticisms most often heard from visitors over the years has been about the lack of signposts. While this has improved recently, there still remains the language on the signs, mainly in Guernsey-French or the mainstream variety, which can render the unfindable unpronounceable.

Again, local pronunciation only adds to the confusion, because we don’t generally give names the full French treatment. To have any cohesion, a language has to have a bank of words in the form of a dictionary. Guernsey managed that only in 1967, so Guernesiais had essentially been growing wild until that time.

As English sweeps the world through the power of television, films and music, our little corner succumbed many years ago.

While the erosion was already serious in the early part of the 20th century, the Occupation from 1940-45 is what really did the damage. With the majority of the population evacuated, children grew up learning English exclusively, rather than being given a grounding in their native language.

One practice that often provokes comment is the sale of vegetables at the roadside, boxes of produce left on walls with a strong element of trust in the customer to pay what the sign says. The system rarely seems to be abused and that surely could not be the case in many places in this day and age.

The ormer is, perhaps, the longest-standing symbol of Guernsey (to locals, at least), a native of our island long before the tomato and the navy-blue sweater, but currently something of a rarity.

It is part of the family which includes the abalone and crops up all over the world in places as diverse as Australia, California and Japan.

Always admired for its succulent flavour, in previous centuries the ormer and its cousins provided a regular part of the diet for many seaside communities.

It is part of our folklore, something that has to be explained to people who haven’t been here and who haven’t had the pleasure of sampling somebody’s mum’s ormer stew.

The word started life as oreille de mer - the ear of the sea - not because of any special powers of hearing, but because it is shaped like one. It thrives on certain types of seaweed and likes rugged, rocky places where it can cling onto the underside of rocks big enough not to be moved by waves. If there are cracks and crevices around, it will wedge itself in them.

The ormer’s chief means of protection is its ability to stick to a rock with amazing firmness, so that it has to be caught off guard to be easily removed. Otherwise it must be prised off with an ormering hook, tyre lever or some such implement.

Stories of the power of the ormer when it feels under threat include one from America, where a San Diego prairie wolf was found dead, trapped by the nose after an unwise attempt to reach the flesh under the shell.

Nobody really knows why stocks are so poor today, but harvesting them is strictly limited to particular spring tides and there are minimum size requirements.

When numbers plummeted in the 1960s and 70s, divers took most of the blame, with their ability to reach places that those in wellies and woollies could not.

Even with diving for ormers outlawed, though, and farming programmes introduced to try to nurture the creatures back to healthy population levels, it hasn’t happened.

Interestingly, there have been other periods in history, long before the invention of the aqualung, when stocks dwindled, too. A mystery.

Tomatoes, once exported in vast quantities, are still grown here on a smaller scale; the name ‘Guernsey Tom’ came about through advertising.

These vine-grown fruit-used-as-a-vegetable just happened to thrive in our conditions, as do flowers.

It is largely to do with light levels - something also remarked upon by painters.

Guernsey has attracted its fair share of characters over the years, from T. H. White, who wrote the original book that became the musical Camelot, to Elizabeth Beresford, creator of The Wombles.

Both picked Alderney.

Mervyn Peake, author of Titus Groan and Mr Pye, chose Sark.

Sir Compton Mackenzie, who wrote Whisky Galore among many other novels, was the tenant of Herm for a while.

And let us not forget Victor Hugo, who bought a house in Hauteville, St Peter Port. He wrote The Toilers of the Sea there and completed Les Miserables.

From 1855 to 1870, Hugo lived here in exile. The house is now owned by the City of Paris and preserved much as it was in Hugo’s time. It makes a terrific visit.

Oliver Reed lived in Guernsey during the 1980s and established just the kind of reputation you would expect in terms of boozing and hell-raising.

His presence led, in turn, to the appearance of others, such as legendary snooker player Alex ‘Hurricane’ Higgins, who could occasionally be spotted chain-smoking at the bar of a highly-unlikely little pub, looking for Ollie.

Fanny and Johnny Craddock spent a few years here. And you can add Cyril Fletcher. The Krankies. BBC Radio Four’s Sarah Montague.

Then there’s the rumour mill, which speaks of George Michael, Sean Connery and one of the Spice Girls.

This little community may be full of ordinary, hard-working people, but we’ve seen a few stars.

Part of the reason that they took to us is that the famous don’t get fawned over here.

If you’re a nice person, you’re welcome.