Well – it’s neglected because I’m writing the book. Yes, the actual book. So blogging is taking a bit of a back seat.  Still there will be lots to post and for now a picture. The fishermen in Governor’s Harbour land their catch just before sunset.  You mosey along, choose a fish, haggle over the price and then they get out a machete, scale, gut and fillet it for you.  I once purchased a whole shark for $20 (Bahamians don’t care for shark).  Nassau Grouper is excellent as is my favourite: Hog Fish (like sea bass).  Enjoy x

Buying fish for supper - Eleuthera style

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I’m sorting through a box of diaries today as I’ve been remiss about posting lately.  Still, as I read my diaries I have the song “Who Let The Dogs Out?” by the Ba Ha Men in my head.  So here’s a share: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=He82NBjJqf8

My beloved potcake Tarpum

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Nassau: 2001

At least there is always the beach

So what else has been happening?  Well,  we have just witnessed the most interesting election in this small country’s history.  A fiercely fought election campaign resulted in a landslide victory for the opposition, the PLP (Progressive Liberal party – don’t be misled by the name, it is a left wing, ‘party of the people’ which had ruled for 25 straight years until two terms ago when mounting corruption made the people turn against it).  Rather like New Labour it has used its time out of power to renew itself and done a cracking job at winning around the young and popular vote.  Consequently the old Government was really caught napping and went from thirty odd seats to seven.  Perhaps the London PR agency the PLP employed (don’t know who yet) also had something to do with it?

I went to one of the rallies, which has to be on a theatrical par with any large-scale event I’ve ever been to.  Imagine a hot evening and about 10,000 loud and brightly attired Bahamians, in high spirits, drinking gin out of coconut shells and eating anything that could be battered and fried whilst dancing to very loud rap music.  Booming music blasted out for a gaudy stage and every so often a wave of rash promises would come from some candidate or other who would then sling a load of mud at the opposition (libel seems a rarely used legal device).

It was a blast.

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Now it is cool at 7.15pm.

I’ve been for my beach walk with the dogs. I’m slurping a huge ripe mango as I walk down the beach (I am now covered in mango stains on my top and shorts).  I can’t believe it is so utterly fantastic here. I feel too lucky and can’t start to tell people how amazing it is.

I felt quite the recluse when I went into town earlier, I can’t decide if I’m just rediscovering my true self or that really I am a recluse at heart. Weird thoughts as I ran a top London PR company and had an 8 bedroom house, nanny,driver etc.  And now, after slipping down the ‘no status’ slippery pole in Nassau (i.e. I went to dinner parties where no one asked me what I do/did/think/thought and the men talked and the women share choc cake recipes -  help me! Betty Crocker?) I start to put my ‘former life’ more and more into some contex.   (more…)

bahama. beach, celebrities, Island Living, London, PR Hide

Thanks a million to Perry Joseph for reading and loving my blog and also for sending two of his beautiful photos taken in Eleuthera – Lighthouse Beach and Double Bay.  I will try to get more for future blogs as they are stunning.

Double Bay Eleuthera, Bahamas

Bannerman Lighthouse in South Eleuthera

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Just flashed my boobs at poor Anthony. I was cooking watercress and garlic chive soup topless as my wound has been giving me some jip today.  He came to the house with five more cut coconuts (reminds me that they are nothing like the black hairy things you get in the UK. They are the colour of light pine wood and erratically cut where the machete hacked them).  He is a true true Hyshun, standing under 5’7’’, black, is called Anthony as Ian can’t pronounce his real name (sounds like Bethany), lives in a small wood shed, listens to Creole radio, walks about with a murderously sharp machete, works hard and in the hot sun. Probably wears polyester too. I gave him some Chef Boyardee tinned ravioli – seemed a nice gesture.

I now have a bushel of mangoes (not Hayden unfortunately – didn’t have any) from Mr. Pinder in Spanish Wells.  Turns out a bushel is basically a big cardboard box full.  He introduced himself as Huston and I thought he said, “used to” just after speaking about how there ‘used to’ be Dobermans at the farm.  So he kept saying what I thought was “used to” and I kept saying, “yes, there used to be Dobermans here”.  I finally twigged that he was introducing himself. Duh! I can see I’m going to have to get used to the Spanish Well’s folks.

Pinder is a true true conchy-joe name.  Houston drives a pick up and wears a baseball cap, shorts, t-shirt and boat shoes, has a boat and a rifle. Can’t believe that two guys tried to rob the bank in Spanish Wells. It is an island of fishermen and hunters - all with boats and guns who caught them before they hit dry land.  Also cracks me up that it is ‘dry’ with no liquor stores but a huge one just where the ferry ($5 and 5 mins) hits main land Eluethera.

Back to my conversation: no wonder I had trouble with the lingo, Spanish Wellians have a long vowel sound and switch their ‘h’s’ and ‘as’s’ as in ‘Hanimals ‘ate to heat honions’.  He even said ‘H’am got to go’.  Got the bushel (in box saying Silver Pride Tangerines) down from $30 to 25 so feeling pleased about that as these guys drive a hard bargain, even for ‘farmers’ like me.

At night on the farm, I had wondered why there were glue traps under the bed. I thought mice. No: tarantulas – a nice fat one was in there this morning stuck like glue (Lol). I think I’ll take double sleeping pills tonight.

Just been to Burrow’s convenience store. Nothing resembling a fresh veggie in sight (a few withered garlic and some dodgy onions, apples and that was it).  Of course I should have remembered the advice from True True Bahamian that: ‘when you feed a Bahamian, try not to make anything that grew on a tree of shrub the main event.  Many still refer scornfully to lettuce and tomatoes as ‘grass’.

Very helpful in the shop, three people helped me. Met Mrs. Burrows, very large and welcoming in huge American style shorts sitting at the till (according to ‘Tru ‘Tru Bahamian book she is an Eleutheran Red, of the Caucasian persuasion,with close relatives who go from coffee than cream (this is how the Bahamians themselves categorise each other. Feels non PC to me)).  She also says  ‘oars’  instead of ‘ours’ although she moved from Nassau to Eleuthera 20 years ago.

I spent $80 and she said she could tell I’d just moved in as I was spending so much (it was just for me!).  Also went to the bank. No chance of being low key here with the jeep. Every eye is turned towards it – it’s so noisy for a start. Joined the queue and every person exchanged a nodding “hello’ with me and then an old guy offered me a coffee which I just took as so surprised.  15

Photo of outside oven still used in Spanish Wells

minutes later (each person has to have a LONG chat with the cashier about family etc.) I could see why.  Still they also have TV (unlike us as we have no cable or reception) so managed to catch up on some Dr.Phil (another family intervention although I’ll never know the ending).

Think I’ll try a mango – it is really hot. I was lulled by the rainy and windy weather the last few days. This is what July feels like then.  It is so humid.

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Tuesday July 27 ‘04

Slept until nine but woke in the night to heavy rain and high winds, which made the rattly doors bang.  Good old mum rang; I was drinking from my favourite Skegness cup and telling her how I really want a donkey (we have 10 acres and a three mile long pink sand beach and ever since I went to Skegness as a kid and rode Donkeys I’ve wanted one.  This was made stronger when I worked for the ‘Greek Animal Rescue’ society whilst at Lynne Franks and I heard about the poor donkeys that are thrown off of cliffs once the tourists leave.  Cheaper than feeding them evidently.  Horrid).

Just watching Tarpi wandering around the bush and chewing something. I forget that this toffee coloured small-domesticated animal that’s so keen to please is really a bush dog with a collar.

I watch as a beautiful black and white humming bird flittering in the bush in front of her. They love the Noni that is amazing as it smells so bad (Stink Apple). Tarpi is eating some kind of bush and Orange (the cat) is watching intently. I can see a couple of passion fruit by the front porch, sweetly left for me by the almost invisible Offany so think I’ll have them as a snack soon.

Today I am going to actually unpack so that I can feel at home.  I may even venture out to the shops later – whackaday.  Must remember to wear shoes. There was a huge centipede in the kitchen earlier – it was by the ring on the stove so I turned it on and bbqued it. Cruel but they have a terrible bite evidently and the Bahamian are terrified of them.

Oh yes, I think I flashed Offany with my boobs this morning. As I’ve dressed the wound I try to go topless for a while and I think he was working nearby.  Hey ho.

I’ve been busy as one of the darling brood of animals peed in the boy’s room and by the time I discovered it, it has seeped underneath six bin bags.  I just pulled them all out and dumped them in the square tiled bath, lizards and all, and done my best with Clorox and a bit of kitchen roll (must go to the shop today). Rusty has managed to tie his chain round a bush outside and has now dug himself down in the sand. Orange, despite being fed, is off stalking and I’m contemplating unpacking.  How very different this life is.

The view of old palms from my wooden office on the hill: painting by Rosalyn Palmer

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Journal.  Monday July 26 04.  Eleuthera. Bahamas.

So the city slicker transformation continues.  Had a wander around and found a sapadilly tree, pomegranate tree, vines with nearly ripened grapes, rosemary, basil, mint, spring onions and watercress (the dogs love lying in the watercress bed, I suppose it is very cool – I was shouting at them to get off and when they did eventually obey there were two dog shaped impressions in the watercress – oops).

Found the bins and Ian has put me some 5 gallon containers ready for Noni.  I feel a bit crappy and overwhelmed at times.  I don’t even know how to change the wick in the storm lantern.

Just gathered my herbs and veg with Marshi the cat/dog dog/cat in tow. He came the whole way with my dogs Tarpi and Rusty, running and playing with them.

God this is heaven.  Thanks.  I do need to remind myself that it is paradise on earth and I am getting better.

This morning I learnt a valuable lesson that flip-flops are not good enough on the farm. Stood on an ant’s nest whilst inspecting the pomegranates – v. painful.  What with that and my wound (which is actually a lot better albeit painful) I could get down again but won’t.  Mum rang and that cheered me up.

So my big choice of today is over whether or not to watch a movie (we don’t have TV – no reception/no cable and no TV for that matter as our last one blew up in Nassau (shoddy reconditioned thing from Robin Hood – very apt)). I thought about watching Ordinary People but my little world is so wonderful I am loathe to let another world into it.

I’ve just made passion fruit ice cubes from the fruit I collected today. Have fed the dogs after our beach walk and showered and washed myself and cleaned the wound.  I can see why animals just go to sleep at sundown and wake up with the dawn – it makes so much sense.   Am listening to Pavarotti and drinking a Becks Alcohol free beer. Nassau seems a far far memory. There was something  wrong with the energy at the house we were living in there – just thinking about the place makes me feel tired.

As I was walking on the beach today I was thanking God for bringing me here. I suppose I feel I walked my journey and it pains me to see many people who are unable to show any care or go beyond themselves.  Evolving to a higher soul will probably include overlooking these flaws.

View of the farm from my bedroom

My own private pink sand beach.

The breeze is blowing through and it is actually cool.  I may be forced into the drastic action of closing the shutters (or putting my top on as I’m letting my wound breath and there is no-one here).  Sometimes when my hand brushes across it I think I love my scar  – I must be spending too much time alone!  I do feel sorry for people who never experience solitude or the peace I have felt recently.  It is a haven here, my only selfish thoughts are how noisy it will be soon.

Well, just had a scare with Marshie cat disappearing for three hours (never normally misses feeding time, last seen at the gazebo by the beach). Even Orange was meowing pitifully for his mate and very excited when he came home. Orange meantime had one eye closed so I wrestled with him to put some eye drops in. I now have cat scratches on my arms, a huge scratch up my leg from Tarpi’s sharp claws when she jumped up when I came back from my sleep and several corkers of insect bites. Bert’s Bees insect repellent isn’t working very well!

As it’s nearly 10pm  I think I’m going to turn in.  Just noticed that my beautifully dusted tabletop is full of sand and cat hairs.  Bloody animals!  Better lock up the toilet rolls tonight from Tarpie the shredder.

There is not enough hot water for a bath but managed a quick cooling shower (it is so humid). There was a little lizard in the bath. Earlier I nearly put my shoe on as a lizard darted out of it.   I have a small lock on my outside bedroom door (we have no locks on the house!).  So am sleeping with a claxon under the bed (and a big glue trap after I caught a tarantula under the bed on the first night).  My animal protectors Tarpi, Marshie, Rusty and Orange will have to suffice.  Anthony the Haitian gardener is not too far away.  Infact I can hear his radio playing scratchy Creole songs on the wind… Nite all.

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Journal update June 2 2005

Well the Internet is certainly a fascinating thing. Whilst buying DVDs on Amazon I checked out Carmen (recommendation from Daisy last night for a flamenco DVD) and under it I found lots of Carmen Electra’s striptease plus ‘nude women’s wresting’ and ‘the mating habits of the earthbound human’ which gets a five star rating so obviously someone likes it.

Daisy and her new love are coming round. I’m off for my first sailboat trip with him from Smugglers cove to Governor’s Harbour tomorrow – I am the greenhorn crew and have to admit I’m pretty excited.

We had supper last night at their home.  Daisy told us of her three marriages: one for the children; one to learn to play golf and one for keeps.  She had a prenup agreement with no. 2 who was 25 years her senior. It included that she would agree to play golf, which she did, and discovered she had a passion and skill for it.  Sadly his children didn’t like her and after a few horrid dinners when ‘gold digger’ was hissed before pudding it all went sour.

Her fiirst husband took her child so that was very messy.

M. was married previously for 30 years and was a teacher in Yorkshire then, bam!  He came one day and his wife had served him with divorce papers.  He lost everything: the marriage; the house;  his kids. He has not seen his children for six/seven years and came here because his brother has a huge house in Tarpum Bay and took him in and let him live there.

He met Daisy through an Internet dating co.

Daisy claims she was offered a free trial and that she filled in her details whilst on a girls night in back home in Canada.

M. was looking for a tall thin cello player. Daisy convinced him he was just looking for himself and she was the one for him (she is not tall, nor thin, nor plays the cello).  M. is passionate about Bach.  He can tell you every detail about him including how Bach re-tuned the piano to be able to play any composition in any key.

As the evening drew in M.  sang me a folk song/sea shanty whilst Daisy made popadums and curry.  Their little clapper board sea side house was a magnet for mosquitoes and we sprayed the screens with OFF as the mosquitoes homed in and M played melodically into the night.  He was reminising as he played and told me of a 6 ft boa that bit him a few months earlier whilst they were sleeping at the side of the house when building it (oh yes, they built it themselves).  It made his finger bleed and swell up.  I swigged back some more rum, sprayed a little more OFF and laughed.

Life in Eleuthera

Life in Eleuthera

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One day's beach bounty

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