Before writing anything else I should point out that this was one of the main holiday weekends of the year here in celebration of Independence Day, so if you’re expecting to hear daring tales of brilliant seamanship or more intricate insights into the reconstruction of Odyssey then I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed.
Basically the entire weekend was one big party, finishing sometime this morning (Tuesday). About 6am, to be precise, or 06:07 EST if you’re feeling particularly pedantic or are called Christopher.
I’ll spare you the lurid details, but suffice to say that impressive quantities of alcohol were consumed, much wobbling was done (including some falling down), and there are a satisfying number of blanks in my memory which is probably no bad thing.
If you’ve ever been to America or even just seen it on TV then you’ll know how fond they are of waving their beloved Stars And Stripes. It’s seen on every government building, all official vehicles (including buses, trains, boats and parking enforcement carts), and is flown outside many private homes, often lit up at night by shimmering banks of spotlights. It also features heavily on cars, and many of the pickup trucks which are so popular here have a huge one emblazoned across their back windscreen.
I’ve never fully understood why they love it so much, and did wonder at one point if it’s because their knowledge of geography is so hazy that they need frequent reminders of which country they’re actually in, but I now doubt that this is the case.
Anyway, this weekend I was amazed by the sheer number of ways which the ever-inventive folk here have discovered to get their flag into every imaginable situation. Yesterday I was invited to a little social gathering at my new apartment complex and was delighted to find myself eating the star-spangled fairy cakes of the title of this post. Not only that, but the plates and napkins were also sporting the familiar red, white and blue.
Actually I had been a little wary of this weekend as of course it’s all in celebration of the Yanks chucking the Brits out back in 1776 or whenever it was so was wondering whether to anticipate a little hostility. In fact I’ve found quite the reverse and they have been, as someone pointed out, most magnanimous in their victory.
After all of 3 hours sleep this morning I then had to pack up and leave my lovely home at the Beach Villas. I’ve had a wonderful three months there but all good things come to an end, and the place has been sold to new owners who intend to refurbish it before re-opening for business. They kindly let me stay on an extra few days but work began in earnest last week with much noise and mess, and it’s not the same without Spanky (the previous manager), so I decided to move on.
I’m now happily ensconsed in my new home, which is a delightful apartment two blocks from the beach and would have a splendid view of the ocean if it weren’t for all the things in the way. Still, I know it’s there and that’s what counts.
My new flat is a lot bigger than the old one and I even have a separate bathroom for visitors which is rather nice, and since I also have a dining room I feel I should do some entertaining before I leave but to be honest it’s unlikely as I can hardly be bothered to cook for myself, let alone anyone else. I also have a great view down onto the pool and sunbathing area immediately below my apartment, and since it’s all clothing-optional I suspect I may find myself spending rather a lot of time lurking indoors and twitching the nets.
That’s the trouble with Florida, there are so many distractions that I still don’t have a departure date. I did actually pop down to the boat today and managed to get the oven and hob working, so at least now I can boil a kettle. This will stand me in good stead should I rescue any shipwrecked sailors for as we Brits know only too well, no personal tragedy is so great that the pain cannot be soothed with a really hot fresh cup of tea and perhaps a Digestive biscuit or two. If the disaster warrants it we might even break open that packet of Chocolate Hobnobs we were saving for a special occasion, but I wouldn’t bank on it.