Samedi 02.12.06 Ding,dong merrily on high
Such fowl ducks-love-it weather we’re having. We risk getting swept away but we have to venture out this morning. We plough up the hill but I can’t help looking around at the mighty streams, gurgling gutters and ravenous rivers en route to the bus-stop. It’s just as well I look up otherwise we may have slipped on a dead rat – a drowned one at that. We’ve taken the early bus as a precaution; buses don’t stick to any sort of timetable on the weekend and the weather is sure to take a few more off the route today.
In Fort-de-France we take shelter in a café with our jus du goyave and pain au chocolat. The men in the place are staring at us but I suppose the rain outside really isn’t much to look at. Nicola goes off to teach her chatter-box chicks some choice phrases while I get the bus to Dillon to meet Madame Bonne. I ring her when I get to L’Imperial des Iles and no sooner have I turned around to gaze into the patisserie than I hear a toot-toot and spot her across the road. She doesn’t live far at all, yet her home is far from the grandeur I expected. It’s not that it’s rundown or unkempt it’s just not as classy as I had presumed. Their home at Montgérald seems to preoccupy the whole floor as her husband is working in the other apartment across the hall and the doors are both left open. He works on the fishery board. I’m told he went to Ireland last year on a junket. I’m told all about the family’s travels; how Madame Bonne, Jacqueline, was in London and how she brought her daughters to Barbados last Christmas. Her younger daughter, Kelly-Ann, wasted no time speaking English to the locals but Euryle (pronounced like Muriel without the M) was not at all keen on the idea. She’s thirteen, shy and wears braces – not that that should affect her English skills, but perhaps it does make her more conscious of herself. She’s my student today. I’ll have both of them next time but today’s task is to break the ice with Euryle.
She’s quiet but she knows her stuff and I reckon her resistance is due somewhat to her Mother’s persistence and her younger sister’s shine.
Imagine, I get paid to help her with her homework; it’s an exercise on London landmarks, and as I’ve never been it’s an education for me too. For the other half hour we work on dialogue sheets which have been pre-prepared by her mother; they’re on professions. It’s somewhat ironic that that’s what I’m doing in Chateauboeuf at the moment. There are three dialogues; one for a trainee teacher, another for a dentist and the last one is a non-specified director which turns out to be a film director. I can’t help but notice that the most positive qualities are attributed to the dentist who has to look at foul mouths and mouldy molars. The film director works long, erratic hours but there’s no mention of creativity or working with celebrities. I coax out that information after getting her to ask me about journalism. In the end she doesn’t know what she wants to be and I look at her in mock surprise but reassure her it isn’t always crystal palace clear.
Kelly-Ann is in school this morning and Madame Bonne is on her way into town to collect her so I get a lift in. She kindly brings me all the way to Route de la Vierge so I can check out sports clubs in the Maison de Sport. Unfortunately it’s just gone midday and the desk is closed but I pick up some pamphlets and head to the IUFM to call in on David.
Blessed is he among women… and football. He has been listening to the Scottish Premiership all morning and he offloads all his football fantasises on me. He supports Kilmarnock. At the time of writing they’re only three points off second place after winning 4-1 today. Celtic, of course, are on top.
David’s a bit thinner on top today. His new haircut makes him look like a grunt. He’s living an army life of sort all right; there’s no washing machine here so everyone has to wash their clothes by hand – he could have just hung them out the window last night and they’d be well agitated by now with all the rain and wind.
While I’m availing of the internet services David heads to Hyper U for provisions. I get fed up and when I finally get fed-up I head back into town to pick up some of my own grocery goodies. I’m not long in the queue when this guy turns around and asks if my six-pack of milk is for my baby. I tell him it’s for cereal. He doesn’t seem to know what cereal is and I don’t bother explain as he’s getting on my wick – what with his son and wife in tow. I ask the kid if this man always acts like this; the kid bashfully affirms my thoughts - such a sad case getting kicks from winding up women. I’ll give him kicks alright… I don’t bother talking to them again and I pass the time reading the headlines; Cyril. Le plus fort. Damn. I missed another stellar Star Academy show; though with last night’s weather the TV was probably on the blink anyway. The guy behind me is speaking away to someone on his BlueTooth earpiece and I actually thought it was me he was greeting – he eventually does strike up a conversation. His name’s Raphael. He plays the bongos on Rue Victor Schoelcher every Saturday morning and invites me to pop by next week. I have to ask what he does every other day. I should have just read his t-shirt; A camel can work for 10 days without drinking. I can drink for 10 days without working. His t-shirt should go in the laundry with his work.
I’m a few minutes late for the half four bus but so is the driver. He spies me with my heavy load and indicates with hands and lights that he’s pulling up further along the cemetery wall. Sound out. He’s the pervy young guy but he’s on the phone and a glowing grin simultaneously shows my gratitude and keeps him sweet. I thank him again as I alight and this time he has more to say…
The dirty, drowned devil’s dog is still on the road. It’s a pity the rain didn’t wash it away. It’s starting to swell; now bloated on drain rain. Its beady eyes are bulging; so are Arlette’s. She’s putting up her decorations; there’s a tinselled tree in the porch, as host of glistening garlands and she’s now hanging up the lights. The whole neighbourhood is in the festive mood tonight. There seems to be more cars down the road tonight than there were bouquets at Princess Diana’s funeral. La Créole is lit-up and people are filing into the underground garage which is opened up. Will comes around and we decide to get out of the hills and head for our regular Saturday night haunt in Schoelcher. Alwin hasn’t contacted me and Chloe pulls out at the last minute but it’s their loss. Will shows us the area where he works, and lives. He points out a flickering Rudolph in the distance; Pearl and Will Junior are no doubt sound asleep. You snooze you lose. Will and Pearl went for a snooze in February and ended up with someone else sharing their bed in November.
We feel like savouring a new scene - La Cabane. It’s right on the beach; sand under our feet, water lapping unto the shore and the stars in the night sky twinkling down on us. We stay there for a few drinks and unwind to the sounds of the sea and the sax. ‘Pink Panther’ Will nips off for a while to meet Jimmy and Edith. By the time he has returned we’re in form for a more up-tempo night and head to La Feuille de Tôle for cheaper drinks, mustard-smothered chips and the craic with Thierry the dustbin man who is also Will’s brother-in-law, and supposedly a cousin of Thierry Henry’s. Nothing better than Belgian fried chips to take the edge off the munchies – better than ‘gone off Coco Pops’ any day!
Thierry invites us to a Chanté Noël at Université Schoelcher (Ravine Nou Zar) in a few weeks time. It could be a good night, and we don’t need much persuading at the mention of schrubb and rum. Nicola’s got into the habit of drinking gin at La Feuille. Will goes for the Guinness and I take a few Caribs. There are more decorations here this week but we end up staying so late that we see them being taken down. Bye-bye Santa. Adios tinsel. Do widzenia fairy lights. There’s light on the horizon as we crawl into bed. I’m happy. A bit tipsy perhaps but, as the kids in school sing, “…what a lovely way to start the day…”
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