Mardi 01.05.07 Back to Basics
I was certain that last night would be the last time I saw the guys. When I woke this morning I felt prepped; our goodbyes, however silent, had been exchanged and in the subconsciousness of the day it didn’t seem real. It’s not as if I didn’t care if I saw them again this afternoon, it just seemed simpler that way – unplanned and unpretentious. Anyway, I really don’t believe in goodbye’s – à la prochaine is more my style. I like to think I’ve a positive outlook on these things. Sometimes however words fail me. That’s how I feel writing this because I did see the guys again and now I feel that I’ve to realign my thoughts and feelings.
Oliver, Lionel, Alex, Cecile and I had our last supper in CopaCabana. I think we just went for food for the sake of having a last supper of sorts. Nobody finished their meal. Cecile ate a quarter of her pizza. I only managed half my duck. And the remainder of Lionel’s brochette is in my fridge as is Alex’s 40cm steak slab. Oliver didn’t eat anything – he was late as per usual. Cecile, Alex and Lionel stayed over. I don’t think Nicola was too pleased but they were gone almost as soon as they arrived. Their 4,00 wake-up call was not envied.
This morning I half-heartedly prepared some class aides while flitting between the fridge and a glossy magazine. I had got to the point where I was almost content in my mind that the past four months with the present 33°RIMA had run its course and although I’d miss them I could now bear to put a memorable picture up as my screensaver. It sounds so tragic and stilted reading back on what I’ve just read but that’s how it was up until the point where I get a phonecall to say that Cecile, Alex and Lionel are on their way over to Anse Mitan.
I was certain that last night would be the last time I saw the guys. When I woke this morning I felt prepped; our goodbyes, however silent, had been exchanged and in the subconsciousness of the day it didn’t seem real. It’s not as if I didn’t care if I saw them again this afternoon, it just seemed simpler that way – unplanned and unpretentious. Anyway, I really don’t believe in goodbye’s – à la prochaine is more my style. I like to think I’ve a positive outlook on these things. Sometimes however words fail me. That’s how I feel writing this because I did see the guys again and now I feel that I’ve to realign my thoughts and feelings.
Oliver, Lionel, Alex, Cecile and I had our last supper in CopaCabana. I think we just went for food for the sake of having a last supper of sorts. Nobody finished their meal. Cecile ate a quarter of her pizza. I only managed half my duck. And the remainder of Lionel’s brochette is in my fridge as is Alex’s 40cm steak slab. Oliver didn’t eat anything – he was late as per usual. Cecile, Alex and Lionel stayed over. I don’t think Nicola was too pleased but they were gone almost as soon as they arrived. Their 4,00 wake-up call was not envied.
This morning I half-heartedly prepared some class aides while flitting between the fridge and a glossy magazine. I had got to the point where I was almost content in my mind that the past four months with the present 33°RIMA had run its course and although I’d miss them I could now bear to put a memorable picture up as my screensaver. It sounds so tragic and stilted reading back on what I’ve just read but that’s how it was up until the point where I get a phonecall to say that Cecile, Alex and Lionel are on their way over to Anse Mitan.
When I woke this morning I did so to the sound of distant booming tunes. It’s La Fete du Travail so everyone’s off work and out on the shiny shale. There’s a troop of assistants soaking up the sun too. I get an eyeful of Marjorie, Maria and Jasmine before I settle down with my pals for a poulet Colombo induced siesta. When I wake dessert is waiting for me; a huge tub of cacahueute ice-cream. I’m at pains to finish it. It’s morish and mouth-numbing. I spy some more assistants soaking up the sun. I greet the Spanglophones and I plonk myself down on the sand beside Alex. We talk about our plans for the not-so-distant future. She’s got a six week limbo stint at home in Tyrone and then she’s off to Chile to teach English for a year. Fran and Bex are not out soaking up the holiday ambiance as they’re dissertationing. I spy them at CopaCobana later that evening. They’re dining with Gilbert. They do warn we that the portions are huge but I think my lack of appetite is more to blame.
Back at the beach Lionel recounts how he went aqua-planning on the auto route this morning. Trop de speed. His guardian angel was watching over him – his father.
Cecile is cheating in the tan race as she’s using fake bake oil. The lads warn her that she’ll feel raw tomorrow but she doesn’t care as she’s back to work and will be able to show off her glowing pins with her sexy army print shorts. True to her word she has brought along her mini-mili attire and I borrow it for a photo shoot; it tops off the day perfectly. The others have to pack their civilian bags so it’s back to the regiment while I repose and exchange photos before we regroup for our last supper.
Nicola is meeting Steven tonight and has already eaten so she doesn’t come along for grub but on our return home we spy her walking along the waterfront, following the full moon. I make hissy noises and even though she turns around she doesn’t notice who it is…Perhaps the lunar antics have turned us into savage wild werewolves!
No comments:
Post a Comment