The next decade....what's in store?
Musings of a yamfooted traveller still trying to shake off those last 20 pounds as she treks across the Caribbean
Between yesterday, I've put on 3 pounds....utter rot.
That's why the experts say don't go by scales. Go by how your clothes feel.
Well I had put on the swim suit yesterday and my breath didnt stop like the last time I wore it in Grenada!
2 more pounds by the time I leave here Monday.
Guess what I did today? I went out in shorts! That's a huge thing for me. And they weren't shorts that reach to the knee either. They were shorter. And I didnt feel self conscious, cause I was out at a beach house of a famous Barbadian cricket commentator where many other people were in shorts.
Things looking up. Confidence is growing.
And oh, I stepped on the scale at my friend's house where I am staying and it says I've lost 12 pounds since January, but I dont believe it cause I dont feel it.
But this cricket is good for weight loss, cause it takes your mind off food. Remember, I eat when I am bored.
So by next Monday when I leave here, I must have lost 2 more according to this scale. We shall see.
I ok.
Ah deh in Bim, but ah ent eat no flying fish yet.
Jamaica lost the match I came here to see, so let's hope the West Indies can do the opposite.
Tomorrow is 'bear' lime. That means pure liming. Beach party in the day, and games evening with WI and England players in the evening.
Mi ah leave out dis here fair isle Tuesday for Little England. By now, you don't have to ask.
Yes, cricket.
First, Carib Beer Finals, then 3rd Test. I'm a sucker for punishment, I know.
Limited internet access for a while, so if you ent hear me, cor blimey you know why.
And follow the game on TV, you might just see me in a party stand (with some of the West Indies players!!)
My mission - to go to the Island Records Office at the Registrar General's Department and look up Deeds indeces for a particular person from the 1840's onwards.
From I entered the gate at Twickenham Park, the security said "Hi Miss Mc". (From the hotel days)
Only one of the guards inside was not pleasant but everybody else was so polite and helpful.
Paid the money to do the search (J$100 per hour), got my books, and my oh my....what a sight.
THE most perfect handwriting, all curly and well formed....until it got to the 1900's where standards seemed to have fallen off a bit, or maybe they gave a schooler a summer job!
The particular person I was looking up sure bought a lot of land.
I had a few minutes to spare, so asked for the Birth, Burial and Marriage records for St Thomas, to try and find my relatives on maternal grandmother's side. Very interesting indeed.
The RGD actually offers a package where they will search your family history for you, for a fee of course. So if you really want to know where you come from, and who your relatives were, you can go on their website.
Now most disturbing, was that they noted who was an illegitimate child, and worse, they noted your complexion. The range was black, brown, and sambo!
And in the Deeds Indeces, when they noted a particular land transaction, they had "coolie" in brackets beside people's names.
The reality of our history hit me like a ton of bricks. Fascinating. Now I know how I got a distinction in history, without studying too much. It's an inborn thing.
I will be back.
Well only two. Pops is out of town, so I got his wheels. Nice to not have to check with anybody for their schedule. Ah, independence.
After that test match, I need the strongest dose you can give!
Lawks, a pall of gloom came over me. Is bad and not so bad when you watch it on tele, but when you see it in person, it hard.
But, I continue to watch. Mi chupid or fool or wha?
This is the reason that I plan to go to more than one. No more tests though, just 4 of the ODIs (ahm, doc, that means One Day Internationals - insert smily face here).
Mad Bull, good thing you didnt waste your time and money to come on Sunday. You woulda did bex nuh true?
Fine, fine century from one Devon Smith, subject of my interview last year September. Wonderful, magnificent.
Read what the spectators at the ground had to say when I talked with them for this article. And if you didn't get to read the interview write up, then click here and enjoy. Very humble young man from that lovely island they call Grenada.
Then when you're done, go here and look at some pichas! Enjoy.
....is cause cricket playing from Thursday (tomorrow) to Monday (assuming it lasts 5 days).
Nothing comes between me and my cricket, no blog, no blog, no blog, nothing!
I know why I loved living in Grenada. It reminded me so much of rural Jamaica.
While driving to and from Lucea this weekend for the funeral, I kept thinking, and saying, that I would love to live in the country. So peaceful, so still, so uncomplicated.
I guess that's how you could also describe death. So peaceful, so still, so uncomplicated - for those who have gone on. For those who are left, they deal with the what ifs, what should have been, what could have been....
But death also opens up many good things like reconnecting with long lost relatives.
Thankfully, the burial was not one in which the coffin is dropped from up top and the concrete thrown in. Instead, the coffin slid sideways horizontally into the vault, so all that was left for the masons to do was to put some blocks at the side and plaster it.
The burial ground was up a hill in Richmond and was very cool. At one point, a strong gust of wind came by and a relative figured that was Wilhelmina Esme Graver saying her last goodbye.
Sleep on, sleep on in peace and tranquility.
Now we have to be back in this sea of concrete, this den of crime and playground for the wicked. Ugh.
Today we travel down to the West to do the funeral service and burial for Grandma on Saturday. Last Wednesday, we had a memorial service in Kingston which went well. Lovely singing by Carole Reid.
I have to honestly say that I am not looking forward to the burial part, as I hate to see the men slap the concrete mix on top of the coffin. I shall have to carry many tissues with me.
C'est la vie, c'est la mort.