Forced out of bed by a persistent blazing sun after having forgotten to close drapes....didn't really notice them at 3am when I made it home, just damn glad I didn't use the side door where the pool is - well with the full moon illuminating the water and my penchant for all things shiny there would have gone another perfectly good crochet bikini - the sort that's intolerant to moisture and yes I know bikini wearing is a little obscene at this tender hour...well before day break is always regarded as inappropriate home arriving time and thus the bikini maybe a little crass so next time I'lI wait for the rising sun and pretend to be a wake-boarding freak...well we all know how hind-sight works, however, I arrived straight from the beach and my new friends are all men and they didn't seem to mind my lack of attire. Its Monday or Wednesday or some such recurring event and no-one on the island takes these days seriously, tried explaining the Friday or Saturday phenomenum of party night in other parts of the world, and was basically met with blank non-comprehending stares and questions of why the other 5 nights were deemed unworthy of caraf refilling ceremonies - couldn't quite come up with a decent explanation so we all agreed I should convert now to the islands concept of entertainment 7 nights a week, wooahoo.
As I found myself with pleasant company, as mentioned all male, all post puberty and none seem to have had any bodily parts (namely hips) replaced with titanium, coupled with my ability to maintain vino quota and a general lack of interest in their nuptual commitments - got me voted into the all boys team. So this Saturday I'm spending in the company of six guys at a function held at a restaurant owned by Don who's 6 foot tall (well they're all within this vicinity, infact I think the whole country is inhabited by amazonians, thus anyone below 5 foot 6 inches is encouraged to join the circus), fashionably bald, lean, tanned, dropped by at 2am after excusing himself from the marital bed by professing to assist his mates with much needed tobacco, a plausible excuse with the prevalence of this habit in these waters and can you imagine how tall they'd grown without growth stunting nicotine .... why the haste, well, truth be told he actually heard there was a new club member wearing a bikini.
Then there's Marko, yes 6 foot plus, former yachting champ (self explanatory physical attributes), who currently is wearing a plaster cast due to torn archilles , this disability wasn't a problem the other night, apart from manouvering down the spiral staircase, hey not my doing to put the bedroom on the 3rd floor, and he did manage to make it upstairs unassisted.
Matte, who is border line circus material (due to height limitations), but he redeems himself with knowledge in all local obscure things: eg. hidden restaurants that are accessible only by boat and not a Russian tourist in sight; all things bizaar or impossible to obtain are Matte's forte, being the local tourist information agent the freebies are also most welcome.
Number four in the Duchess's new troupe is Kane, the court jester with better clothes and physique, the epitomy of mediterranean handsomeness - tall, of course; dark with just a hint of grey; shoulders that take a full arm span (yes, I actually did this behind his back - wanted to make sure I wasn't imagining things and I'm sure this isn't the last "behind his back" stunt).
The quietest of the team is Mick, fairer than the others, not quite blonde, not circus material; speaks quietly so I have to lean in real close to hear him (I'm thinking dark horse...hmmmm).
Finally there's Peter, shadow creating height; I couldn't jump high enough to see width of shoulder span but I'm guessing size 15 shoes and hands that would dwarf a basketball...well we hope we're not going to be disappointed don't we.
Then there's some of you who may be wondering where's S series guy - gone to make some commercial decisions, I'm sure if it's important I'll get to read about it in tomorrows tabloid or a future court report.
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