samedi 28.04.07 Huit à Huit
It’s time to stock up. Our new apartment looks pretty bare at the moment but it’s the fridge which needs a makeover. It’s handy to have the Huit à Huit mini-supermarket just down the road in Point du Bout and it’s even handier to have friends to help you out with the load; Stephen spies me from afar.
I’ve been indulging in the air-con lately and my sinuses are now paying the price. I’d normally let it just roll over but nobody wants to struggle through the weekend with blocked orifices so I stock up on syrup and sucky sweets.
Nicola’s off to work today. I’ve put off my private lessons because with all the moving of cartons and other baggage it’d be too much to take on; the weekend has got off to a flying-kick start and it can only get better.
I’ve a heap of boxes and bags to sort through so my time is spent indoors sifting through bits and bobs and organising classes until the evening swings around and it’s time for more nocturnal action.
The guys at the popote have also been stocking up. They must have foreseen the petrol strike and the subsequent queuing fiascos because they’ve enough prime steak and accompaniments to keep the troops well fed until their departure, or until the pathetic fuel feud subsides. The steak is ace as are the baked spuds and delicious crème fraiche delicacies prepared with love by Coulisbalai and TinTin – they are however either unceremoniously guzzled by the hungry hounds and dropped by some raging rum addicts. The plastic cutlery is useless so most of us resort to eating with our hands but that only adds to the mealtime pleasure.
It must be noted that everyone’s somewhat subdued tonight. It’s the lads’ last weekend here. They’ve all bonded well and after living in one another’s Rangers for the past four months it’ll be tough to part. Even the tough nuts are subject to moments of emotional release as Alex and Seb shed a tear in the Mayflower later this evening. A few more drinks, a lot of dancing and some solid French tunes soon restore everyone’s resolve. Seb takes to the stage as per usual for his bum-wriggling boogying. J.V roams about with the camera while sticking out his arse in his trademark manner. Oli waltzes about with his mouthy pout. Lionel bounces off the ceiling with his hyper hastiness. Ludo sashays around the dance floor, Alex struts his stuff, the Big Black muscles around the place and Dorian sits in the corner like a mope.
It’s not long until people start to slip-up. This continues in Lil Buddha. Of course it all starts with wicked whisky and cracking tunes but once Ludo konks out on a couch in Lil Buddha the guys are around him in an instant with their fesses on parade. That song In the Navy could definitely be applied to the army tonight…
Two other army dudes join in on the party - not the cheeky demonstrations. We later find out that one of them was harassed by a Rasta when he left the club. He gave him his money and whatever else he had on him before legging it. The same thing happened to Gwendal only last week though I reckon it has a lot more to do with being in the wrong place at the wrong time…
It’s 6 o’clock when we exchange strobe lights for sunlight and 18 minutes later we’re back at Anse Mitan – that’s a record time but I think it was 28 myself though I can’t be sure as I was off-duty and off with the fairies…
No comments:
Post a Comment