The Magic of Childhood.

IZ and I stayed up late into the night (school the next day and and all) to discuss our plans for the upcoming trip. I told him that we were going to take every conceivable means of tranportation bar helicopters and space crafts. Trains-"I don't like trains mummy 'cause sometimes dem does run off de track" Planes- "I know dat already" Buses- (bored) Boats- "What kind?" Ferry Boats to and from Centre Island with your Godmummy. "Dey have real fairies? Like Peter Pan?"

Of course IZ and the fairy dust lifts us up from the water, over the waves and back to the shore.

"I goin 'pon dat fairy boat!"

Georgie Porgie

Georgie Porgie pudding and pie kissed the girls...

Did they cry because they were disgusted (grade one Danny Ovaldick comes to mind) or did they cry because they were jealous of the plural?

Getting older, I think they either cried because it was just so sad that Georgie felt he had to run as soon as he started getting close, leaving the girls to suffer it out with the unromantic boys.
Poor Georgie unable to be vulenrable.

Or else Geogie really did never like the girls and they cried because they were only being used to enable George to get out of his hole.

Then again, maybe they were crying in ecstacy.

If only we could ask George.

Bertha and the Big House

My imagination always leads me to think the worst. That's why I can't smoke the chronic- what if the house burns down, what if the roof blows off. I can do embarassing but I have trouble with illegal. Each and every infringement I've ever done from Kindergarten up has been branded on my conscience. I'd make a good catholic.
Yesterday I made arrangements with a friend for regular smokes and money deliveries and drew up a preliminary contract with Bertha for protection on the inside. That is if plan A- escaping up North and plan B- barganing with whatever I have at the office of the attourney general fails to succede.

Needless to say, all of this was unnecessary when I learned that the Law only wanted 7 numbers not 7 years.

Fear of Big Brother Illiteracy

My appologies to all who have ever wanted to comment and could not because they are not bloggers. I have only now become aware that I have blocked you out. In an effort to hide from Big Brother I have only just started carrying a self-phone and credit card and my computer skills are not concerned with the internet. I hope I have corrected the problem. Test me and see.

The Shopping Cart - the latest rave

My brother Mike, as some of you may be aware, has an uncanny knack for inventing new dances that become popular. The putting on your pants dance- a case in point.
While he was here he revealed his newest dance secret sensation which I passed on to a bar full of mean girls. So innovative is the shopping cart dance that Mike was instantly one hot bitch and the girls were all pushing imaginary trolly, taking things off the shelf to check the expiry date before putting them in the cart or back where they came from all while doing a kinda neck bob thing. Anyhow, while making my way through Emerald City avoiding the propa pork the radio kicks in with 'Another one bites the dust' and I start doing the trolly tramp. When I turn around I got a posse of old dudes watching me and applauding my performance.
Thanks to the cool moves I'm finally a dancing diva-
I took a bow.

Ready Or Not - Here We Come

It is official. The tickets have been bought. IZ and I will be leaving this rock on July 26th for a two week stint of Bajan meets Canuck. Anybody who has time off July 26th thru August 9th and wants to meet up will have to engage in some kind of tourist activity if they want to fit into this hectic visit every conceivable amusement area in the time frame given adventure. Or shopping.
Seriously, I would love to see wunna so get in touch.

Those F*@$ing Trees!

Me and me brudda went to de local rum shop to drink a few beers and talk shop with the local proprietor. Subject was the obvious- Development in Bathsheba.

Apparently I just can't shake the Canadian out of me because try as I might to feel otherwise- I like trees and actually prefer them to concrete.

The owner of the rumshop, Carlos, is a Bajan and try he as he won't to feel otherwise- trees are a nuisance and ya can't park your cars on 'em (even if ya catch bus.)

Deese rashole trees get plant but nobohdy ain't wan trim dem. Bathsheba da out of electricity fuh two whole weeks when a branch fell on a power line.
When was that Carlos?
Man 'bout twenty years ago yeah.
Yuh wan' trees look 'pon de cliff dey got nuff deh so. What more trees yuh want?
Check it- de uder day Fosta de burning and fuh two days nobohdy ain try tuh put out de trees. Das how much people 'bout hay care 'bout trees. You see anybohdy even call de fire brigade?
I called them.
Ahlright den. Yuh like trees... Yuh wan' a next beer?