13 May 2012

Gloom

I walk past empty homes that were meant to be filled with life and laughter as we emigrees from western confusion, injustice and hypocrisy built our new society together here in the sun - under these coconut palms, beside these coral white beaches. Instead, it's going to be just me again with these damned whispering servants. You see Katherine deChevalle is homesick and she plans to leave. She's only been here five minutes. I thought something was up when I asked her to come down to see "Damsels in Distress" the other night. Her response was, "Sorry, I'm washing my hair."

I wandered into Helen and Tony's traditional villa only to find one of the gardeners making out with one of the kitchen girls - in Helen's big bamboo bed! I thrashed the gardener with a sweeping brush and the two of them ran off down the beach path, swearing in Burmese. Libby's lovely cottage has been damaged by the tropical storm we had on Thursday night and Rhymes With Plague's Balinese-designed home has become a lavatory for seabirds as they flit between the ocean and the waste treatment plant.

My heart is as heavy as my leaden feet. Katherine was someone I could talk to - urbane, sophisticated with rich life experience. Now it's going to be just me with these duplicitous Asian coolies. I don't even trust Thuza any more since I found her thumbing through my wallet. And there seem to be more of them since I first arrived - as if they're somehow reclaiming this little piece of heaven, multiplying in the dead of night.

And my dreams are filled with Yorkshire, my family back home, my Shirley, Ian and Frances and the lads from the local, Hull City and "The House of Spice", chilly walks in The Peak District. Perhaps it's jut a phase I'm going through. Tonight I shall drink myself blotto in the social club watching the "EastEnders" omnibus while munching on pork scratchings. I'm sure I'll snap out of it.

12 comments:

  1. Wish we could be there too, YP but with Keith's bleeding problems, the doctors have advised that it would not be a good idea at present. :(

    ReplyDelete
  2. I think the writing's on the wall YP.

    ReplyDelete
  3. JENNY As you can tell, I have my own bleeding problems now. The bleeding servants and bleeding Katherine's planned return to bleeding New Zealand. Boo hoo!
    HELEN Yes. The writing is on the wall at Pudding Towers. I've sprayed "Keep Out!"

    ReplyDelete
  4. Pull yourself together man! Whatever happened to that Yorkshire guts and determination? We didn't win an empire by getting homesick you know!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Sigh. I feel terrible abandoning you Yorkie. I'm sculpting a flock of sheep out of crushed coral sand and white-tinted rubber latex to keep you company when I leave.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I would feel right at home there; my current home is a lavatory for non-sea birds. I am convinced that every mockingbird, crow, and Canada goose in the vicinity uses my curbside mailbox for target practice.

    ReplyDelete
  7. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  8. SHOOTING PARROTS You're right. I do need to pull myself together. I'm falling apart.
    KATHERINE Rather than a sheep could you make me a copy of Katherine Jenkins?
    RHYMES WITH... The bomber birds were no doubt specially trained by Malia and Sasha Obama as they love their father.

    ReplyDelete
  9. No, dear. That wouldn't be good for you at all. No, with your literary success, I'm sure you'd much rather I do a bust of Katherine Mansfield, the famous New Zealand writer. She will inspire you to create you next book.

    Don't thank me. Your happy face on receiving it will be thanks enough. It will be my pleasure.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Of course you will miss home now and again YP...but there is a time for being on Blogland and a time for being back in your home...although Shooting Parrots is right, you need to toughen up a bit....as for the name of paradise I think Blogland is not very attractive...any other ideas? more enticing ideas?

    ReplyDelete
  11. The Beach meets Lord of the Flies.

    I think you're going to end up Captain Cooked.

    Just the seabirds pecking away at your decaying corpse that's been bashed in by coconuts.

    ReplyDelete
  12. I'm glad I'm here you miserable sod...... you're harshing my buzz!!

    ReplyDelete

Mr Pudding welcomes all genuine comments - even those with which he disagrees. However, puerile or abusive comments from anonymous contributors will continue to be given the short shrift they deserve. Any spam comments that get through Google/Blogger defences will also be quickly deleted.

Most Visits