You will perhaps not be surprised to learn, given the existence of a new direct flight linking Oxford and Jersey, that I did not delay long in securing an invitation to travel on it. Since the service is limited to once a week at present, and my spare time is scarce, I was able to travel only one way. I flew out from Gatwick last Thursday morning and returned to Kidlington on Saturday afternoon.

The Jersey-Kidlington trip, let me say at once, was a breeze. It took slightly under the hour and, apart from a spot of turbulence when we descended through cloud, the ride was smooth and comfortable on the Bombadier Q300 Turboprop plane. Rosemarie waited until the aftermath of the first plunge to note, discomfitingly, that the seat numbering passed from 12 to 14 with no row 13. Is this the same on all planes?

Supplied with ideas on what to do on the island by a representative of Jersey Tourism, I was amazed to find just how much was possible in so short a time. This was my first trip to Jersey, and I formed a very favourable impression of its scenery, its people and its facilities. There is no denying, however, that there is a strange feeling there of living in the past. I learned from an archive film shown at the Jersey Museum that when mass tourism began, following the opening of the airport in 1937, a major part of its appeal was the feeling it gave of being back in Edwardian times. Odd that the same 30-year time lag still exists.

An example of this can be seen in the pubs, where the absence of hand-pumped beer reminded me of the UK in the days before the Campaign for Real Ale. But the recent arrival of Liberation Ale, with its island-based brewery, is starting to change that. The company will be showing its wares at Camra’s Great British Beer Festival at Earls Court next week.

The 1930s tourism boom was cut short, of course, by the outbreak of war, and the Nazi occupation of Jersey and the other Channel Islands. This period of intense hardship is movingly recalled at the Jersey War Tunnels. This subterranean hospital, which was never used as such, was cut from solid rock by forced labour. It now houses a historical display, which no visitor should miss. Most affecting is the eerily lit section of incomplete tunnel, water dripping from its roof, which shows the appalling conditions in which the back-breaking work was done.

Another ‘must-see’ is the Durrell Conservation Trust, named for its founder Gerald Durrell, which this year celebrates its 50th anniversary.

I greatly enjoyed watching the antics of gibbons George and Hazel, partners for more than 20 years. They take a great interest of the antics of the orangutans, a notice observed, but I could see that George, staring implacably at us, was also fascinated by the entertainment supplied from the human enclosure. It was also fun to watch the gorillas tucking into salad, bananas and tasty matter plucked from their noses.

“Sex is relatively unimportant in the life of gorillas,” said another notice. “Unless you’re happy to do it to yourself,” I thought, as Guy the Gorilla at Regent’s Park always did.

Speaking of sex, that iconic symbol of it, Marilyn Monroe is celebrated in a special exhibition until the end of the year at the Jersey Museum. Dresses she wore in her films and other memorabilia have been supplied by local collector David Gainsborough Roberts.

This is a fascinating tribute to a great star.