Last nightâ€™s sleep was the best I’ve had since I’ve been here. Almost back to normal — three pillows instead of two. With a light covering I was able to turn, by myself, from one side to the other, which was a great relief. I slept for three hours and then unfortunately had to disturb Michael for a few minutes in order to sit up to clear some phlegm. Then back to bed and did not wake until 06.25 AMÂ – miraculous for me.
Apropos, yesterdayâ€™s entry and my comment re the renowned Trumpers rejection of my suggestion of a free haircut after 50 years patronage, I should have gone on to say, that since that time, some eight years or so ago, when my retort was â€˜ that being said I will never darken your door againâ€™, my hair has been â€˜cutâ€™ by â€˜my lovelyâ€™ at no expense to me whatsoever, thus showing a very substantial savings in costs over the intervening years. Even in 2002 Trumpers charged Â£29 for what they euphemistically described as â€˜a trimâ€™ and by the time I had purchased the odd bottle of Lime Aftershave, or whatever, discreetly paid the â€˜de riguerâ€™ modest tip, into the outstretched hand of myÂ â€˜manâ€™ as he held open the front door of that august establishment in preparation for my departure, one rarely escaped with enough from Â£100 to pay for a simple lunch.
Mind you there is a price to pay for this economy.
â€˜My lovelyâ€™ comes under the category of what I would describe as a â€˜hedge trimmingâ€™ barber. They cut off new growth and old indiscriminately, to reshape the bush; a snip here and a snip there. Trimming, thinning and layering has no place in their vocabulary even when they have the correct tools. Michael comes into the same category as â€˜my lovelyâ€™ and very kindly â€™hedge trimmedâ€™ my hair today.Â As to the implements each of these distinguished barbers use, I have always suspected that â€˜my lovelyâ€™ employs the same shears as she does for the donkey, but, she assures me, she does not use the same comb and brush! Michael, on the other hand, at least, borrowed some â€˜stationery scissorsâ€™ from the front office.
A slightly longer â€˜bakeâ€™ on the platform this morning before returning to our room to update this blog.
This evening, after a visit to the tailor for Michael to pick up trousers and shirts that he had ordered, we met up with the Barlowâ€™s and took them to the Onn Onn, Corner Restaurant, for some of the wonderful scallops that we had been boasting about. We ordered, only to have the girl return with the message â€˜that scallops are offâ€™. Apparently, the scallop man, who normally delivered daily, had had an accident – but then our waitress laughed â€œperhaps it was his wife who had the accidentâ€ she explained. Just what sort of accident we never quite discovered – an accident nevertheless which meant that there were no fresh scallops on the menu that day, other than one tired old portion from yesterday. Â Then for some extraordinary reason, no doubt kindly meant and no matter how much I protested the others insisted that they were for me. Bear in mind this was the third night running that we found ourselves in this restaurant and the third night running that I was to eat scallops. I would dearly have loved to have ordered something else. However, what the others ate suited themÂ nicely and all were duly impressed.
Back to the hotel, with the Barlows in tow. We invited them for a drink and they arrived shortly after, bringing their own supply of whisky. We sat in the warmth of the evening on the veranda overlooking the lagoon, talking inconsequential nonsense but, nevertheless, a pleasant interlude. Relaxing in this manner was something we have sought since we arrived but have been thwarted most evenings by The Monsoon rains.