Bang bang made the captains virtual dream presence materialise at my cabin. Put some clothes on i hissed aghast at his now day time nudity. His ding dong swayed like a floor clock pendulum together, with his body, and the boat not too far away from the head of one one of the innocently slumbering passengers.. Everything was swaying. My head felt like a bottle of wool, and as i for the second time gave up the struggle and withered into my bedsheet body turban, an explosion sputtered trough the air and made me jump back up again and out of the cabin window.
What in god's.. Ah of course. We are in the place the time stopped. A gun from the wars against napoleon here is still used to tell the time to the fishermen. Well there was no point of trying to sleep, i mounted into my costume and pushed out of the window.
Splash is a insufficient word for the sound /feeling you feel jumping in to the sea right out of bed. Isn't it the most thrilling sensation not having to wash ones face nor to shower but just plopping right in to the sea. The captain confirmed my thoughts. we where flying in pure melted turquoise colour together with seagulls and fish.
Bang. The deranged clock method shot antoher pound of gun powder. Bang. And with the sounds several other heads popped out of the boat. What the hell is that? The newcomers moaned insulted at the wakening. And oh where are we? I was pleased my braincells had re activated in the cool of the water and it was merely enjoying watching the crew going trough the self doubt, i had tasted moments ago. This is not where we where anchored last night. What is this place? just than the brass band struck up a new communist number. Jump in it will all be better i swear. In manner of fat penguins they slid in to the watter than as excited as if they had caught a fish in their beak they emerged out of the water squaking the name of the town they finally placed.
Komiza. Komiza!
Once we had all climbed aboard we where struck in unison at the sight of the cock pit. Candle wax had melted everywhere. There where cups and bottles of gin and chivas and plates and tomatoes and underwear hanging indecently from winches. What had happened.There was a dinner. And jazz. Night swimming.Some sort of teenage game was played.
In silent and shameful unison everyone decided to make no remarks what so ever about he previous night. In tune to the bras band we marched one at a time into the boat to re baptise ourselves and dunk the body into clean clothes which smell of washing powder and goodnes. Than stepped into the dingy. Whizzed to the good old safe and predictable normality of the shore. Bought food which no one was able to eat, and sat down for coffe no one was able to drink amongst local families who had just emerged from church.
This is the bar in which your bother proposed to the waitress the night of the regatta. Remember ,he introduced her to your mother and father . The captain smiled smugly.
What happens on the islands stays on ths islands is the general rule and what ever happens is invalid outside the island.
But it was quite obvious that more than time was warped in this town.I mean it is the only place in the whole country where the favourite local sport is cricket.
The town had for decades been out of reach to anyone not borne on the island because its many cave riddled hills where used as secret communist army bases, keeping this town isolated from fashions and developments thus preserving it intact with houses built in the very sea with gardens which consisted of water and garden plants consisting of sea weed.
The sun rose up and high and hoter than desired,having exhausted all good holliday humour previous evening, there was no more speakin to do. The captain announced that the boat will stay anchored where it is for the rest of the day after which the crew like antisocial lizzards each found a seperate bit of shade to hide in ...
to be continued
No comments:
Post a Comment