Stuck on an island...

…a small one this time, as opposed to a big one!

Someone at DICE had the bright idea of cramming one whole module into one tiny little week. Yes, that’s right – FIVE WEEKS’ worth of classes, done at breakneck speed, hotch-potch, over five mere days. Just who was responsible for this brilliant stroke of genius, you ask? I don’t know, but I really would love the chance to throttle them.

And so it was that on Sunday evening, 30 October 2005, the entire class found ourselves at Gatwick Airport, waiting for a flight to take us to Jersey for our Conservation of Species module.

Why Jersey? Well DICE has a special arrangement with Jersey Zoo, which is home to the Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust. DWCT has worked on a number of exciting projects around the world, such as the Black Lion Tamarins in Brazil, which were featured in an Animal Planet documentary. The zoo itself is famous worldwide for its captive breeding and reintroduction programs.

I have to admit, prior to this trip I wouldn’t have been able to find Jersey on a map. Imagine my surprise when I found out it was an island. Even after discovering that, though, I still couldn’t find it on a map. It was only the plane, as I endured a headbendingly uncomfortable flight and Sami talked non-stop next to me, that I opened the inflight magazine and discovered that Jersey is one of the Channel Islands, off the coast of France. How nice. As a result, although it’s part of the UK and its people do speak English, there’s a lot of French influence on Jersey, not just culturally but in its flora and fauna as well. A lot of the places and streets have French names. And, even more confusingly, Jersey has its own government with its own special Jersey money, too.

That’s helpful to know. It’s also helpful to find out where a place is, before you actually get there. It gives you some measure of comfort to suddenly discover where you’re actually going to.

Unfortunately, by the time we touched down on the island, night had fallen, and as the bus ferried us from the airport through narrow winding country lanes, all around us was pitch-dark and there was nothing to be seen. After what seemed like an eternity of driving through inky blackness we trundled into the zoo parking lot and were deposited at the edge of a seemingly endless expanse of grass. We hoisted up our luggage and trudged through the wet grass to a cluster of buildings which must have been a farm at some point in time.

Les Noyers, our residence is called – this is the training centre, our home for the next five days. It’s run by a no-nonsense German housekeeper called Hannah, who will also cook all our lunches and dinners for us (yaay!). It’s a nice house, cosy and homely, with stairs all over the place leading up to rooms and lofts and mysterious doors that won’t open. Each room has a special name of its own. I find myself sharing a bunk bed with Louise, in an annexe with an attached toilet. Daria is lucky enough to get ‘Huia’, the single room right next to us. Somewhat puzzlingly, the room Louise and I have is called ‘Solitaire’.


Oh lovely – I hate to say it, but this room at the training centre is sooo much nicer than my own room back at Tyler!! Warm and toasty, with one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in. And what a gorgeous view of the garden! We’re right next to the zoo compound, close enough that they say the lemurs wake you up in the morning.

Best to be abed early, then. Breakfast is at 8.00.