STATUE OVER THERE?

Some time ago I lived in the Channel Islands. Now for those of you who are geographically challenged, the Channel Islands are an archipelago of British Crown Dependencies which lie off the coast of Normandy, in the English Channel. I used to live on the Island of Jersey. Yes, you New Jersey folks, guess where your place got its name from.

A beautiful little island it is too, stunning beaches, and for somewhere so close to the UK it has a pretty good climate too (Jersey Tourist Board, please forward the cheque to my usual address).

The peculiarity of this island is in its police force. There is the States Police, who are island wide and are full time police officers, and then there is the Honorary Police, who are employed by the parish, and are all volunteers. At this point I should explain that the island is divided into twelve parishes, each with its own representative in the States Parliament, and responsible for its own police force. Now, I was never sure that if it was a good idea to have the political representative of the parish in charge of the police force too, but it seemed to work in the main.

Anyway, I digress. I thought it would be a good idea to put something back into the community and become a Constable’s Officer for the Parish of St Brelade.

After swearing in at the Royal Court (all done in Jersey French, so I have no idea what I agreed to), I was issued with a warrant card, and there I was a bona fide police officer.

There were many things that happened in my time as a Constable’s Officer, some amusing, some not so, but one of the amusing things I remember was the embarrassment of a young lady in St Brelade’s Bay.

We were on a routine patrol in the late evening, after dark, when we approached the war memorial in St Brelade’s Bay. I was driving the police car and something caught my eye straight away. One of the concrete bollards in front of the memorial had become a statue. As we approached, it became obvious that a young lady was on top of the bollard, standing on one leg, and striking a pose remarkably similar to that of Eros in Piccadilly Circus, London. She wasstudiously ignoring the car as we pulled up alongside her. After several seconds she slowly turned her gaze towards us and nearly fell off the bollard when she realised it was a police car. Even in the dark it was obvious she had turned a shade of red almost equal to that of the nearby post box. She hastily explained she thought it was her friend’s car which by now had pulled up behind us. We couldn’t answer for laughing as she hastily ran to join her friend and hide her embarrassment.