dimanche 18.03.07 Smothering Sunday
All’s quiet on the home front today. There are a few beach requests being sent our way but bed is the better option.
It’s Mother’s Day at home today and I contact my mum to wish her and everyone else well on this fine day. The weather here and at home may be at completely different poles but the binding force today is Scrabble. My mum and my sister Roberta are both vying for triple-word scores while it snows and howls in Co. Cavan while Arlette and her cronies are shaking things up upstairs as they rant and rattle the character counters in the heady afternoon heat.
Some people are throwing a party next door. Jubilant music, joyful banter and juicy scents waft from the neighbours to my ears and nostrils; mi-carême is another excuse for Martiniquans to prolong the Carnaval vibes.
Once evening comes I shake of the enveloping idleness and prepare my classes for the week.
Mark the Marine from last night calls to see if we’re interested in going to the bar but we’re just content to just stay in. Likewise Fred, our neighbour, contacts us to ask what we’re up to. He was working all today and yesterday and so he missed out on the real Paddy’s celebrations.
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