Are you being served? - Lundi, 29.01.07

Lundi 29.01.07 Are you being served?

I would have been quite disappointed on Friday had I attended Sports Day. It was not the wonderful event anyone had planned; it started late and there was the usual chaos of containing and entertaining 350 kids. When I asked my colleagues today what went wrong they said it was unplanned. In essence the event wasn’t well planned but something unplanned also happened. My Friday was marred by the news of our friend Gethin’s injury and his imminent return to Wales. The day at Dillon also brought bad news for the staff and 350 pupils of Chateauboeuf; Madame Bois, who had just undergone two hours of surgery on Thursday, woke on Friday to find that her sister had died. The whole school was in mourning and the following morning the country was too when a Martiniquan radio personality, Albert, also died.

Needless to say but there’s a sombre mood hanging in the air today. My lesson plan for this week involves animals yet again. This time around however it’s mostly copy book work. Each kid chooses an animal and we start a class dialogue session:

Have you got a dog?
R Yes, I have.
R Yes, I have a dog

Q No, I haven’t. I have a snake.
Q No, I haven’t got a dog. I have a snake

The questions are answered according to what animal cut-out the pupil choose. So as not to waste class time actually guessing what animal the other has I put up three options: an elephant, a cow, a hamster.

I then ask the kids about their own pets. I feel that some of them only respond in the negative to avoid reeling off long lists of livestock. A few however, answer in the affirmative and by elongating the truth we soon find out that Janis (who’s only pets were formally ants) now has a falcon and a whale; Luc’s two cats and three fish have turned into tigers and piranhas; and Caroline has upgraded from a horse and a hamster to a unicorn and a mongoose!

Have you got any pets?
R Yes, I have a dog and two hamsters.

Have you got a pet?
Q No, I haven’t.
Q No, I haven’t got any pets.

I then elaborate on some of the many uses of this question – Have you got….? I once again explain the difference between an and a, and I develop on the usage of the words any and some.

Have you got a banana?
Q No, I haven’t (got a banana).

Have you got an apple?
R Yes, I have (an apple).

Have you got any sweets?
Q No, I haven’t got any sweets.
R Yes, I have some sweets.


Madame Thaly is out so half her class are with Madame Acina. I divide the animals into three categories as I did with the other classes; Pets, Farm Animals, Wild Animals, and we play multiple games before winding down by copying the names of a few choice creatures in our copybooks. The Jungle Jukebox is once again in action and I sing Who’s the King of the Jungle while the children grin and giggle before finally joining me in my crooning.

I’m in town with plenty of time to kill before I meet Nic and David for lunch. How long has it been since I sent a letter to Crédit Mutuel requesting a credit card? Only a fortnight actually but I’m surprised they’re not laying out my options or force-feeding me platinum plasticness. But am I really surprised? No. I drop into HQ again. The same fuzzy-haired, fuzzy-brained lady greets me and listens to my queries. She tells me to put it in writing. But I did already! I have a copy to hand. I sign it and give it over with a faint smile and faint faith in Martinique’s financial services and its employees.

You can however, always rely on the local lad consortiums to check out your assets in a jiffy. Where are you going lovely lady? Are you going to the beach? Be careful in the sun today, princess. Thank goodness for the sunshine and the sunny disposition of these shady sharks; they both brighten up any day.

Three daily specials are ordered in La Croisière. Chicken with mixed vegetables sounds sufficient for an early lunch. Their definition of vegetables however, is quiet loose; a paltry melange of celery chunks, carrot pieces and shredded lettuce lurk among the crispy chicken legs. They failed to tell us that there was pasta on the side – not that we don’t want it, but Nic can’t eat it. Her dish is sent back and it returns with a mountain of rice and a forest of broccoli. It soon disappears with a flan coco closing in behind it.

Alex, the waiter, chats about his weekend and asks about our antics after our sighting a fortnight ago. We tell him how we could have taken the bus home that morning to Tivoli. We also tell him that we’re on the lookout for new accommodation across the bay and he offers to ask a regular, who deals in property, to help us out. The stripy-topped hostess later comes over and asks if we can help her translate the menu. Pani Pwoblem. They’ve always been very hospitable and friendly and I’m sure a few drops of run will be added to our glasses of coke in future.

It’s soon TaxiCo time and we bundle into the Ducos mini-bus with about ten other pilgrims. The driver agrees to drop us off at Rue du Tunnel. Twenty minutes later, and €2 less, we’re left at the foot of Jesus at Lazaret. We spy some goats by the roadside and I start to wonder if Edith has indeed made a recent house call.

Gethin’s front door is open. We call in. He replies a few seconds later and we shuffle into the high-ceilinged, open-plan space and follow his voice down the corridor to find him placed awkwardly in front of a computer screen. His foot is swathed in bandages and his crutches lie on the floor in the sign of a cross. Hellos and sweaty hugs are exchanged before moving into Gethin’s room so he can stretch out. Nic and I give him his gifts. He’s chuffed.

His responsable and the staff in his school have been very concerned and have shown great kindness towards him lately. Elizabeth, his responsable, dropped by before lunch and while we’re there another teacher calls in too. She comes bearing cards and gifts and promises.

Water is put on the boil. David and Gethin watch the rugby and talk football while Nic and I head launch into baby talk as we head outside to play with the baby of the family; Foxy, a Labrador puppy.

Gethin’s gaff may be cool and airy but the kitchen is a pig-sty. There’s a long counter along one wall and it is laden with dirty dishes, take-away trays, mouldy fruit, dirty rags and lots of other unhygienic oddities. We find, and clean, three cups. David sips his black tea from a glass with a tissue wrapped around it to stop the Burn Factor. The grubbiness of the place is so that Nicola throws of the Tetley teabags into what she presumes is the bin but in fact turns out to be a cool box with open packets of baby food and biscuits. The real bin is overflowing beside the rusty fridge. There’s a stale smell from the fridge. We don’t trust the open carton of milk. We open another just to be safe; after all, not everyone is flying home First Class with Air France to Orly and transferring straight to London only to be taxied home. It pays to have health assurance – especially with a policy which covers a 400km taxi journey from London to Anglesey!

The only thing stopping Gethin getting home is medical clearance. He can’t fly with a cast due to the risk of thrombosis but he needs to get his foot set by Thursday. He must therefore get the all-clear-to-fly from the Air France doctor before Wednesday so he can go home and get plastered. If not he’ll be sitting pretty in plâtre, in Ducos, for the next six weeks. By the time we leave that evening nothing has been set in stone. His Dad has been on the blower telling him about the planned flight arrangements. That Welsh nattering boggles the brain but Gethin, the generous Galle that he is, clears things up for us and gives each of us a bookmark with the longest Welsh town name and its translation:

Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
Church|mary|hollow|white|hazel|near|the|rapid|whirlpool|church|saint’s name|cave|red


It’s time to go. We say goodbye and exchange sweaty hugs once more. We make our way to the TaxiCo shelter and wait... Two TaxiCos pass us by; one is full and the other supposedly only goes to Lamentin. We’re deciding whether to walk, skip or jump back to Fort-de-France when a silver jeep pulls up. Gerard is our knight in shining steel. We tell him about our house call and he tells us he’s just on his way back from Lamentin hospital after visiting his friend with a broken ankle!

Gerard’s a restaurateur. He gives us cards for Au creux des vagues in Trinité. We tell him of our travels around Trinité over Christmas and he gives us advice on future excursions. A weeklong boat trip around the Grenadines is recommended as is a day (specifically Monday) spent in Ducos during Carnival as the best bands are out there then. We’re dropped in town and we wave Gerard off. We’ve been left right at the bus-stop. A No.22 and a No.13 creep up the street but we decide to take time out from road rage and head for a few bevvies in a boulevard bar. More travel talk is on the cards. David tells us about his weekend jaunt to Tartane with Sam, Elizabeth and Carson. And Sunday saw him at Ti Sable in Anse d’Arlets with Rodolfo and Phil. More futuristic trips are also brought up; Australia is flung in there, Texas holds our attention for a while and there’s a drizzling of Canada to top it all off.

The No.22 arrives and we leave wee Daveed to take shelter. The narky driver on our bus almost refuses to sell me a ticket but I’ve money to hand and there’s no way he’s make me walk down to the BIG RED BUS in the dark. My good husband, John, is on our bus. Nicola recently pointed out that his lips are weird and I can’t help thinking about Jackie Stallone every time I see him.

I call up to Arlette and Richard to pay our rent. They’re sitting together on the couch watching TV. Such a cute old couple. I tell them about our friend and impress them with some more Créole when I tell them that he’s a bit down cast and needed cheering up. Plis fos! Tchienbé réd!

Le Grand Bleu is our entertainment for tonight. Almost three hours of dolphins, diving and dodgy Italian accents. I enjoy the stunning, staggering cliffs and expanses of sparkling sea while Nicola fantasies about the Chris look-a-like! It’s a while until we’re diving under the sheets but it’s even longer until I reach the depths of unconsciousness…