I managed to get some sleep even though I kept dreaming about Unni trying to kill me in my hut. When I woke up I did my exercises, (which was painful. I am so unfit). I then went outside to sit on the balcony and write, when I saw Cina bounding towards me. She'd just had a massage by the same two girls. She had a massive dirty smile on her face and confessed that she too had enjoyed it a bit too much and needed a man instantly as she feared she might be a lesbian. It really made me giggle and made me feel like less of a raving pervert.
I ditched the writing in favour of going to the beach with Cina (I am so easily distracted). On the way I bought loads of food and water for the dogs. The beach has about 10 resident stray dogs. I have a favourite. I’ve named him Puppy. He comes to sit with me everyday. I am more than a little bit in love with Puppy. He is the cheekiest of all the dogs and one of the smallest. In the beach dog hierarchy, Puppy is very low down in the pecking order. He regularly gets duffed up by the other dogs. He’s a massive bender and completely submissive. That being said, the other day he did give it the right large when he saw a massive Great Dane at the top of the cliff, but I'm assuming that he’d already calculated that there was no chance of the dog/pony ever being able to reach him.
The beach is amazing but not just for the obvious sand, sea and sun. It’s perfect for people watching. Varkala is rammed full of hippies so you regularly see people standing on their heads and other weird and wonderful sights. There is a bloke who goes everyday. He looks the spitting imagine of Gollam (just slightly taller). He wears dresses and more ankle bracelets than would be necessary on the set of a Bollywood movie. There's nothing that's going to pretty this poor man up. He sunbathes in skimpy pants, with his legs wide open. Its best to let your breakfast go down for a couple of hours before heading to the beach in fear of throwing it straight back up again at this sight Gollam, spread eagle
There's a big chubby Indian woman who sells fruit on the beach. She is spectacularly rude and intimidating. She wanders around the beach welding a machete which, she savagely cuts the fruit with. She is massively offended and painfully rude to people who don’t want to buy her fruit. I oddly really like her. She is so bad that it makes me giggle. Being asleep is no deterrent either. She thinks nothing of waking people up to ask them if they want fruit. She was standing over a woman for about 5 minutes shouting at her. Madam, Madam, MADAM and when the poor woman finally opened her eyes she put on her most angelic face and softly says Fruit? Terrifying.
I ditched the writing in favour of going to the beach with Cina (I am so easily distracted). On the way I bought loads of food and water for the dogs. The beach has about 10 resident stray dogs. I have a favourite. I’ve named him Puppy. He comes to sit with me everyday. I am more than a little bit in love with Puppy. He is the cheekiest of all the dogs and one of the smallest. In the beach dog hierarchy, Puppy is very low down in the pecking order. He regularly gets duffed up by the other dogs. He’s a massive bender and completely submissive. That being said, the other day he did give it the right large when he saw a massive Great Dane at the top of the cliff, but I'm assuming that he’d already calculated that there was no chance of the dog/pony ever being able to reach him.
The beach is amazing but not just for the obvious sand, sea and sun. It’s perfect for people watching. Varkala is rammed full of hippies so you regularly see people standing on their heads and other weird and wonderful sights. There is a bloke who goes everyday. He looks the spitting imagine of Gollam (just slightly taller). He wears dresses and more ankle bracelets than would be necessary on the set of a Bollywood movie. There's nothing that's going to pretty this poor man up. He sunbathes in skimpy pants, with his legs wide open. Its best to let your breakfast go down for a couple of hours before heading to the beach in fear of throwing it straight back up again at this sight Gollam, spread eagle
There's a big chubby Indian woman who sells fruit on the beach. She is spectacularly rude and intimidating. She wanders around the beach welding a machete which, she savagely cuts the fruit with. She is massively offended and painfully rude to people who don’t want to buy her fruit. I oddly really like her. She is so bad that it makes me giggle. Being asleep is no deterrent either. She thinks nothing of waking people up to ask them if they want fruit. She was standing over a woman for about 5 minutes shouting at her. Madam, Madam, MADAM and when the poor woman finally opened her eyes she put on her most angelic face and softly says Fruit? Terrifying.
I'm now proper brown and feel great but I'm a little bit concerned that I’ll end up looking like David Dickinson by the time I get back. Or at least an extra on TOWIE. There's an element of guilt attached to living the high life when I was meant to be helping under privileged kids but I think I'm prepared to give up my dreams of winning the Nobel Peace Prize and just relax and have a nice time. Surely I've earned it?
No comments:
Post a Comment