Sneaky Dark Chocolate Bar - mercredi, 11.04.07

mercredi 11.04.07 Sneaky Dark Chocolate Bar

Lie-ins are a blessing but I feel even more tired this morning than I was going to bed. I settle in the garden hammock for a while where I’m lulled back to into sweet slumber as I rock gently between shade and sunshine.

I feel like I’ve had my sun quota for the next decade but I need to get out and about so I give a shout out to the army dudes to see if they’re up for a day by the sea. Oliver and Lionel respond in the affirmative so when Nicola heads into town again after her seminar stint I join the lads by the Mayflower. There’s an article in today’s France-Antilles about Nic’s BTS group. I may finally get to clap eyes on her latest beau – Kevin.

You can smell the curdled vomit and dried blood from across the road so the lads and I decide not to linger around town for lunch and instead opt for liquids in Point du Bout. I tease Oliver about leaving a mess in our car. I actually think he took my jibes a bit too far as he leaves Lionel and I at the bar while he wanders around the Bourg.

It turns out that the lads are leaving early in May. Some of them will return to France; others will be sent on other foreign missions and assignments; and a new bunch of military muscles will be sent over to Martinique to replace them. This bunch have been commended by their superiors for being the most level-headed equipe in the past two years. I don’t think I would have liked to have met the worst bunch if these guys are being elevated to angel status!

Once Oli returns we get in another round. I resist teasing him for drinking Smirnoff. Lionel and I silently sip on whisky-coca and Leffe respectfully while we listen to Oli tell us about his cancelled trip to La Côte d’Ivoire. It’s not long before the tanked-up trio totter off to the ivory coast of Anse Mitan. There are hundreds of marines at one end of the beach. Some are roasting. Others are BBQing. Most are toasting and a handful are being revived by the lapping waves. We retreat to the far end of the beach for some shade and tranquillity. The mandatory dip in the big blue cools us down after an afternoon of sparkly sand, warm rays and the odd blasting from stray beach balls.

We’re well roasted and watered by the time the sun sets on another Wednesday at the beach. The evening is prolonged by a slap-up meal at the L’Embarcadère. Three of the staff hover around us like flies to a cow pat. Thankfully the place fills up before our amusement at being asked three times if we want ketchup or drinks turns to annoyance.

Oliver’s half-asleep on the boat back to the Big Joke. As of late he has either misplaced or forgotten his mobile, his beach towel, his clothes and that damn big baton of dark chocolate. I want to check my emails before heading home so Oli and I log-on in Cyber Délisse. It’s quite late but Oliver wants to stay on longer to get his media feast. I leave him and hail a taxi for the hills to join Demi Moore and her fluffy man-teaser antics.

Unbeknownst to me Nicola is across the road from the rank. She’s gargling with two other Nicolas in Le Terminal. Oliver must have spied her because I’m later informed that he joined the ménage-à-trois only to get a kick in the shins. That’s what you get for sneakily leaving dark chocolate all over the place.