Island Living

Well it´s been a while...so hold on for the complete update...it may take a few weeks with all that's gone on, so let's start with now and I'll back track until we get all the interesting stuff sorted:

Sitting on a balcony overlooking a fabulous inlet thats located on the Adriatic, sun is settling over a perfect marine blue harbour, only the traditional small fishing boats fit (they look fabulous, but don't get too close - phew, stench city, so lets leave them down there in the picture perfect scene....tried checking out the fishermen too, lets just say 'they wear the same cologne as their trusty vessels' and their ain't nothing remotely romantic about scent of octapus); the lights of the village are justing starting to shine 'mood lighting' (Revlon should come out with a portable light defuser, rather than bull shitting us with anti-wrinkle creams that even polyfiller would have a hard time filling). So you see I've managed to secure a new home for the Summer where the locals don't accept outsiders except for the 3 months during holiday season, when they proceed to make an annual living from the proceeds of these few weeks, this being their only consolation for giving up paradise to overweight, 3 sizes too small swim suit wearing, pastie, waddling foreigners. My request for a 4 month rental was cause for a communal meeting, almost got vetoed, but new best friend 'S Series' guy (keep reading) came to the rescue.

Oh yeah, lets get back to fabbo new home, did I tell you it has a pool - looking forward to the pool boys visit, just hope it's not a part time job and he fills his days with fishing - ok, ok, the house: has rooms for all incoming guests, mod cons, did I mention pool...well as usual it wasn't easy to come by this little treasure, however, with the stubborness of a mule (one with pedigree of course) it was possible to manouver into this property before the over-cashed Russians got a wiff, is there really that much money in radio activity?

There I was sitting at the hairdressers, where as usual all manner of grievances and mischief was being devulged while the shearing, colouring and blow waving process was taking place, when to my amazement hairdresser 'Anita' pipes up that she has a boyfriend (feeling rather piffed, that it's Saturday and yours truly is in a 5 star hotel without any prospects while the stylist has not only a date but a boyfriend...and why on earth would I want to know this? - alright, patience I said to myself, after all she's holding the success of over/under bleached mane and the fact she was listening was truly a new experience as I hadn't realized these professionals actually had hearing devices called ears, really didn't even believe my marriage counsellor was listening, after all the divorce was a success). Well, this said boyfriend is a real estate agent and maybe able to help out - forge on I say..sooo, the very next day we go house hunting, personally she can keep the boyfriend and his idea of what Duchess is prepared to live in, but alas half way through the day at another not perfect location I was introduced to the developer of said site - hello, Hello, HELLO - just saw the S series Mercedes and no wedding band. Well I had to knock back his property as being inadequate (never was very tactful when it came to such situations and perhaps saying ''I just don't feel it'' wasn't quite the done thing), but this did not deter S series guy, who thinks he has something which could be right for me and would I like to see it, well sunshine let's do dinner first...come on it's been weeks since Prague and then there was gran and a visit from dad and too much champers (read on it will all make sense).

Series S guy has got me pegged and thus here I am ensconsed in a fabbo pad...oh the really good part is he's loaned me a car (future story of how my newly acquired 3 day old car was written off....German insurance company not happy but Audi dealer looking for a bonus month) - this car loan started with a black Porsche Cayenne that had to be sent back, because the island's a little too small, the roads tighter than Pamela Andersons bra, not to mention the constant ringing of the technology ''too close'' alarms on the car which started to sound like an ice-cream van on steriods.....sooo, now I'm commuting in a BeeMer (5 series), yeah, I know, it aint much smaller, but I got rid of the local teenagers thinking they could score from me.