Just as I am a sprinter with alcohol, I am something of a sprinter when it come to sun. I am always terrified I will not be brown enough, and spend my vacations working out just how many hours of sun-tanning I have left.
We were very lucky with the weather in the Bahamas, and I was surprisingly careful, not going anywhere without a minimum of factor 15, and more often factor 30. I only managed one IPL treatment to remove sunspots, which didn’t really do anything as you’re supposed to have a few, but the pain was so bad I can’t imagine it will be an experience I’m likely to repeat, so I did my best to keep the sun off my face. The result was, I turned a lovely golden brown. A paleish sort of golden brown. Paler than I would like.
But because I’m a big believer of, when in doubt, fake, I woke up this morning deciding that my tan had faded, so sprayed a little Neutrogena sunless tanner on. I think I went a bit overboard. I am now a dark shade of orange. However, as long as I’m not in bright sunlight, I think I look pretty damn good, particularly in a white T-shirt
For Christmas Beloved gave me the most stunning pair of earrings, that have been passed down through generations of his family, first from his Great-Grandmother to his Grandmother, then to his Mother, and now to me. They are glorious, and more so because of the meaning and history they hold. They have the old-fashioned screws, and I need to have them turned into posts.
I was about to take them into the jeweler behind Main Street, but then remembered I’d read a story about the landlord trying to get rid of the jeweler by kicking a hole in their wall in a fit of…something. It clearly worked, because the jeweler is no longer there.
I have heard they are elsewhere in town, and am now on the hunt for them. I also have a few very old gold pieces that I want to remodel. I got the idea from my mother. When I was trawling around the Internet looking at vintage jewelry recently, I came across a collection of vintage 70’s Tiffany zodiac pendants, now collector’s items and selling for a fortune. I got very excited, because my mother has one, and they are clearly all the rage, so I thought I might get a look-in.
‘Oh that old thing?’ she said. ‘I had it melted down.’
Bugger. But that’s where I got the idea from. I am gathering all bits of stray gold to have remodelled into a thin gold chain, and possibly a ring, if I’ve got enough.
But in gathering old gold together, I am surprised at how many things I cannot find. I don’t think they’ve been stolen, I just think I’ve moved so many times, things have a habit of being misplaced. Even large furniture. I grew up with an antique blanket box at the bottom of my bed. I remember it in my flat on Abbey Road, and then in my first house. I think it came to America with me, but I realise I haven’t seen it for years.
There’s also an emerald ring that appears to have gone AWOL.
If you happen to live locally and know of a decent jeweler, do let me know, just in case I can’t find the hole in the wall people…
I didn’t make any formal New year’s resolutions, but I’ve been thinking about exercise recently. I know, I know, thinking about it doesn’t really count, but it’s a start, no?
Last New year we came back from the cruise and hit the gym with enthusiasm. I had the Scary Trainer, and started running and working out furiously, and then it all tapered off to nothing, so this year I am planning on stepping it up again, this time with Bikram yoga. My Canadian editor once talked to me about Bikram - she had transformed herself in a surprisingly short amount of time, and I have come across various people who claim to have seen the same changes from Bikram. Bikram is the hot yoga, that is supposed to recreate the heat of India to ensure maximum flexibility (and discomfort presumably, but I won’t think about that).
I did rather enjoy running on a treadmill, when I was doing it. Yesterday, flying home on Jet Blue, I got suckered by three Infomercials: a bra something that holds straps together, a Slap and Chop thing, and a Nordic Track incline treadmill. I want all of them. Particularly the treadmill, which is, of course, the most expensive of the lot. I am pathetic when it comes to Infomercials. I sit, mesmerised, and pick up the phone like a robot. Good job I was on a plane or I’d be strapping, slapping, chopping and running by the end of the week.
Actually, if my previous experience with Informercials is anything to go by, I would be doing none of the above. All the items would instead be gathering dust in the spare room. When I sent my last batch of items I no longer use to Goodwill, it included the full set of Billy Blanks’ Tae Bo. Unopened. Need I say more?
I am starting to feel a bit creaky, though, and think Bikram could be the answer. Plus the Chestnut goes, and it’s always better to do these things with a friend.
In the meantime, I’ll just pop over to the Nordic Track website for a look…
Getting off the boat at Guana Cay to have lunch at Nippers. On the way back we passed three teenage girls, one of them holding a Conch shell she’d just found, that, judging from the stench that followed her, clearly had some dead conch still inside - everywhere she went she was surrounded by a swarm of flies, but she refused to part with it. She looked like Pigpen in Peanuts. I hope it was worth it.
The road to Nippers
Father and daughter. The brother standing with the Maiselicious just outside the Golfers’ house.
Maiselicious in all her blue-eyed glory
View from our bedroom window.
Martha and I on New Year’sEve. I had brought a suitcase of sparkly Kaftany resort clothes, and didn’t get to wear anything other than this one top to see in the New Year. Next year I’m bringing two pairs of shorts and four T-shirts. Great earrings though, if I do say so myself.
My three most favorite grown-ups in the world: Beloved, the Brother, and the Fishy.
I know it’s boring, but look at that sand!
Coco beach.
Sunset boat cruise.
Beloved, always at his happiest when on a boat.
The family Green.
Our desert island. Fishy and I were sunbathing, and all of a sudden we looked up to see Beloved, miles away, very high. That little stick figure you see is Beloved, dancing.
Careful with those private parts…
Couldn’t resist this because the colors of these lobster tails are so spectacular.
We are flying home tomorrow morning and tonight, for the final supper, we had dinner with the Golfers at their house.
‘How are you feeling?’ Beloved asked my father, with a knowing grin on his face, as my father cracked up laughing.
It turns out my father and my brother had both sampled a famous island aphrodisiac today. Conch penis. I kid you not. I have no idea if it is working or not, and nor do I have any intention of finding out. Well, okay, I may ask my brother at some point in the future when I’m not entirely grossed out.
And if you’re expecting a recipe for Conch penis casserole, you can think again. Me, I’d rather have an early night.
We have had a wonderful time. Today we went snorkeling, and fell asleep on a deserted beach on a desert island somewhere. The brother and the dive instructor found a load of Conch, hence the, ahem, well, you know…and rounded a corner of the reef to come face to face with an open-mouthed barracuda. They all survived it though, and we came home sun-cooked and happy.
We also spent a glorious day the other day with friends, in a wonderful house on Windward Beach. We were supposed to be going for a quick lunch, but the Rolling Stones were playing on the i-pod, the rum was being liberally poured, and lunch stretched into dinner, and eight magnificent hours.
We are finally in vacation mode. It took me 5 days to get there. Next time we will plan a longer trip. Apart from the local food, I think I may be falling slightly in love with it here. But Lord knows, I still cannot wait to sleep in my own bed…
