The last few days have been spent on this little island in the English Channel that is gorgeous despite unfriendly weather. It has a notorious reputation of being a tax haven and a convenient hide-away for the very rich. This is evident from the many yacht-tans and bottles of Crug that surround us at various restaurants. Despite being so tiny, it has a rich history.

The first people appeared on Jersey 250,000 years ago. They were nomadic hunters who used caves as base whilst hunting mammoth. The area was used on and off until the first ice age. In 6000 BC Jersey became an island after being separated from the Normandy peninsula by rising sea levels. There is substantial evidence of neolithic settlers in the form of dolmens, menhirs and chambered graves. Over the centuries, the Vikings, French, English and Germans staked a claim on the island at different times.

During the summer of 2012 two men, using metal detectors, discovered an ancient treasure in a field in Jersey. This treasure of compacted coins had lain hidden for up to 2,000 years. The Jersey Heritage display these coins in an exhibition complete with live conservation of the coin hoard. It is fascinating.

Driving around, following directions from the female voice of the sat-nav with absolutely obnoxious pronounciations of the french road names made me think of Saagar and how funny he would have found them. Standing by the sea, listening to it’s rhythmic sound and watching the sun shine through the clouds made me feel really close to him. I wish I could hold him. I wish I could listen to his laughter one more time. I wish he would call me sometime. I would love to hear him say ‘Mamma’. I wish he could see the full moon tonight. And the moonlight reflecting off the surface of the sea. And this island of stone walls and lovely balconies. It is beautiful. But nothing is as beautiful as him. Nothing is beautiful without him.