Yo from the sunny Caribbean!
I am living in a little wooden house, high up on the hill on the other side of the island. Most days, so far, I have walked into town and am usually offered a ride along the way. People ask what I do up there alone. Well I can tell you that I am certainly not alone. There are lizards and bats, cicadas and birds. It is silent of the London noises at night but the air is filled with a cacophony of nature's music. I am woken sometimes, suddenly, by a torrent of rain or a gust of wind rippling down the front of the hill.
I am being broken in gently by the friendly full moon, I am slightly in fear of the blackened nights to come. The other night there was an eclipse and the space shuttle passed over, a night time display from my deck amongst the trees.
I have met retired Americans who live here and many sailors passing through. The locals seem to be staking me out. It, apparently, takes two sightings before they feel able to approach. Everyone who has spoken to me has seen me before.
Yesterday the tourists were shunned from the beach, sidelined in huddles watching on as the Sunday party commenced. Brightly coloured speedboats arrived from St. Vincent bringing hoards of revellors onto this shore. There were sound systems and Bbq's, football and volleyball. Girls and boys strutting their stuff and coyly approaching each other.
I supped at my Callacoo soup, drank a beer and took in the gleeful scene. This, I think, is a place I am going to enjoy calling home!
For now, this feels too much like an office, inside is a rarity over here. I need to get out and dip in the ocean before I head up the hill and sup rum in my garden.