Canary capers. Wednesday and Thursday…..

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The book is totally gripping, completely unputdownable, about a Wall Street hot shot faking his own death after the breakdown of his marriage. It put me in mind of the Cohen brothers and if I knew them, I would tell them to make a movie out of its extremely dark humour.

I woke up that Wednesday morning at 5am with sore shoulders which were rubbing on the sheet.  I`d had the most lovely dream, I was with Alan Bassett (an old boyfriend from donkeys` years ago) and we were living in a large house which my daughter Becky was painting white throughout. Her ex partner Robert and I were friends again and he was there too.  We were all playing with the grandchildren, Rob`s hair was long and oiled and plaited into rectangular cornrows and hanging down his neck in tight braids.

I got up feeling really happy and went out on to the balcony and fed the birds. Tony got up, had a fag, drank tea, took 2 Nurofen and went back to bed.  I am staggered by the amount he can sleep.  He had slept  throughout most of the previous day.  I kept hoping he would get up and say, “Hurrah! I feel better!”  but it wasn`t happening. I knew he was poorly and unfortunately it was beginning to affect my mood.

I decided to book a day trip for the following day when I hoped he would be feeling better.  The leaflet I was reading informed me that the day was called “A Trip to Cezar Manrique,” who is an artist, now deceased and much loved for the impact his work has had on the island. I had a tidy up, took a bath and made myself breakfast.  For breakfast I made toast, boiled eggs, cheese, mussels, olives, onions, salty tomatoes and garlic-y mayonnaise. It was delicious, Tony got up and shared some with me and then went back to bed.

At around midday Tony finally got up, up and we strolled across the road to book the trip, on Friday as it happened, which was our last day on the island. There were a number of days out to consider. We had holidayed at another island, Fuerte Ventura in 1998 so we recalled doing “Fire Mountain” and a trip to honour another local artist (we thought) whose name escaped me.  Nothing much changes in the Canaries, the islands are quite small and so they are limited in the number of activities they can offer,  In the end we booked a day trip which cost fifty euros, taking in a museum, some caves, what looked like a terrifically scary drive up into the mountains and a tapas-y kind of a lunch.

We strolled to the harbour and on the way stopped at a cafe to check my emails, there was nothing of any importance.  I was feeling peckish so we found a restaurant by the harbour and sat outside.  I ordered a steak Diane with a side salad and it was absolutely delicious. Neither of us felt like doing anything very much so we strolled back up the hill to take a taxi back to the apartment where I finished my book.  A good read!

Thursday.

Hurrah!  Two more days to go!  Tony was still hacking away and making some really weird noises, I thought it was like sharing an apartment with Linda Blair.  It must have been really quite exhausting for him poor man, (I know it was for me!)  I was glad to be going home, I was missing Les and I was missing my own bed. To cheer myself up I made a list of things to do today:

1) Take copious quantities of empty wine bottles to bottle bank.

2) Check bank account

3) Check flight home time (hurrah!)

4) Get a present for Dan and Les

5) Start packing  (I drew a little smiley face in my journal.)

I insisted to Tony that we do something today so down at the harbour we paid ten euros each to take a water bus along the coast to the next marina, Porto Calero which is a very wealthy part of Lanzarote.

It turned out to be the best tenner we had ever spent.  As our waterbus chugged out to sea it became evident we were not alone.  About a hundred dolphin swam all around the boat, leaping in and out of the water chasing a shoal of sardines.  To everyone`s utter astonishment we also quickly realised there was not one, but four sperm whale not far from the boat, three adults and a baby.  It is impossible to describe in words how fantastic and moving this experience was.  Many of us on the boat, including me started to cry tears of pure joy, it was just one of the best and most thrilling times of my life.  They swam around us and blew great snorts of water spray at us, it was wonderful and they remained by us for about fifteen minutes.

Once the whales had moved away we chugged into the harbour.  Me and Tone walked around the harbour for a while.  It was filled with incredibly luxurious yachts and boats worth gazillions of pounds.  We ate a lunch at a splendid restaurant called Wave.  I chose tagliatelle with king prawn and zuccine, drizzled with an olive oil and lime dressing, it was superb.  While we waited for a waterbus to take us back we chatted about our afternoon to some very envious people who had paid a huge amount of money for a four day whale watching trip and never got to see even one.  We had been so lucky!

We were bushed when we got back to the apartment.  Tony`s cough was horrendous, I was so worried about it.  He woke me at three thirty a.m. then thankfully, fell asleep again, I wrote this part of my journal while I was awake!  I knew we had the trip booked but I thought I would probably give it a miss as I was so knackered and i knew he would be…….

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