This is the first island time that Mike and I have had on Tortola alone and I have been looking forward to it. Our intention this week is really to sort the boxes out, do a mountain of laundry, slob and socialise.
This goes according to plan on the Friday. Our only job is to go into town to pick up the new wifi router for the house – de man from Lime says the the existing one doesn’t work. We visit the new Riteway supermarket again and do a little bit of shopping then get stuck into the DVDs, with Mike making the usual Friday night curry.
However, Saturday does not go to plan. Bending over to pick an empty plastic bag up off the floor, there is an ominous cracking noise from my lower back and I struggle to straighten up. I spend the day in bed and the next two days reclining in a chair in front of the TV, getting up slowly to put another load in either the washing machine or dryer. It’s painful and I am walking like an old woman.
Each day gets a little better but progress is slow. I start phoning around to find someone who can crack my back into position again and the general opinion is that I need to see Glen Moore but when I phone him he is on holiday and won’t be back until the day we are supposed to be sailing to Grenada. The only other options are one man whom no one recommends and another one is who is so specialised that he is not affordable! When he learns the cost of just a consultation with the latter, Mike, very caringly, tells me to take more codeine as it’s cheaper. Gee, thanks darling!! (Obviously sick of running around after me at this point!!!)
We discover that we have a visitor. On going to shut the balcony doors there is a frog/toad clinging to the inside, right at the top. Even my flash photography doesn’t shift him and Mike has to poke him to make him jump off. He goes straight under the heavy cooler which Mike unfortunately has to then move out of the way to shut the door as it has been holding it open. I hope he isn’t squashed.
Photo: A horny little visitor
By Wednesday I am well enough to have Candace and Malcolm around for lunch and a liberal internal application of wine and an external application of laughter lessen the pain for a while.
Photo: Mike superglued to his recliner and PC
It starts to dawn on me during the week that Mike seems a bit too happy with my back the way it is (as long as I don’t groan on about it too much). I am not clamouring to go out and do stuff, stuff which inevitably costs money. Of course, having a car which has sat redundant on the drive for a few days has cost money but it cost money anyway.
On Thursday, Mike finishes sorting the boxes. Having gone through them all, he has managed to sort out one carrier bag of stuff he is willing to throw away. It’s obvious I am going to have to do some more on the quiet!
We drive into Road Town. It’s the first time that I’ve been out in the car since I put my back out and every rut has me clinging to the seat and shouting at Mike to go slowly. Couple that with the speed bumps on the main road, most of which are pretty dammed invisible and it’s not a very enjoyable experience.
On Friday I meet Candace for a goodbye lunch and we have a good old girly natter having another dose of the same with Sayula and Penny the next day. My back, although improving, is still bad although at least I have given up the codeine during the night.
I leave a message on Glen Moore’s voicemail telling him that I will be standing outside his office when he opens on Monday morning. I hope he can fit me in as I don’t fancy being thrown around the boat in this state.
On Saturday evening we get a phone call from Heather and Joe to say that they have arrived at the airport – they are joining us on a sail down to the Grenadines – a new experience for them as they haven’t done any ocean sailing so far. They land early which sends us flying out of the door to pick them up to deliver them to CRC for the night. We stop at The Pub to get them a ‘quick’ take-away. ‘Quick’, in this case, is 50 minutes! With only four tables taken, we cannot work out why they take so long to come out with the food. Mind you, it turns out to be fortuitous as Heather and I wander down the dock and find that the high tide has popped Jeannius so high up the dock that all of her fenders are suspended above it and she is rubbing up against the dock itself but we get her sorted for the night.
Having delivered them into the safe hands of Malcolm, we retire for our last land night for some months. Tomorrow we face the boxes again – that should be fun!
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