We went to Basil’s Bar on Sunday’s Jazz Night. We had burgers and wondered if Mick Jagger would grace the stage. He has many times before at Basil’s – Mustique’s only relaxed, Caribbean-style bar on the island. Mick (who has two properties on island) is known to turn up out of nowhere and just start a set.
No wonder. That is one wicked stage at Basil’s. Instruments on the wall behind ready to plucked up and used. Lots of room to dance among the tables and chairs. Alas, Mick never came… but the burgers were great. The company was even better.
We are starting to look good – or at least we look like we’re in the Caribbean! It caught me by surprise, looking at ourselves in the ladies’. Ok, maybe the Matalan dress was pushing it. I do love that dress though and its £7 price tag! I just can’t help my miserly enthusiasm – it’s like a disease I love having.. What did strike me is how suddenly berry brown we are – more than most of the European clientele in their chi-chi sundresses. Ahem.
I promise we’re not trying to be. Most of the time, we hide from the sun – she just follows yachties around. We have factor 100+ cream for our faces, shade panels, side panels on Quest. The sun gets through anyway.
Lu had her Trini T-shirt and her new head-wrap on. I bought the wrap for her in Grenada after she told me she liked Lola’s at Eden Sushi. She’s discovered the excellent way head wraps hides salty hair. I think too she’s enjoying feeling the Caribbean wrapped through her locks.
You know when you see your kid with new eyes – as if seeing them for the first time? I keep getting that with Lu – signs she’s maturing of course. Tonight, she reminded me of Wonder Woman’s alter-ego, Diana Prince – you know; when-she-has-her-glasses-on. Mixed with boat kid.
Meanwhile, Delph brought her iPad to read. She sat there as if she couldn’t care less about her location, reading like a scholar. Who was going to stop her? Not us. Scholar suits Delphine. More on that subject later.
We’re suitably midge-bitten by now – but on a diet of anti-histamines this time. Ha! No itching for us as we played ‘spot the millionaire’ in Basil’s Bar. Indeed, the people who didn’t take their sunglasses off after sunset seemed a clear give-away. What a doofus the guy was in the corner. The way he was carrying on with his flowing shirt, entourage and self-important air. His sunglasses didn’t seem like visual aids to us. And he wasn’t the only one wearing them.
Mental note: I must ring my mother tomorrow morning. I’ll say, ‘This place reminds me of all your stories of the Concorde Lounge at Terminal Four.’
I already know what my mum will say back. I soak up our predictable relationship. ‘Was Mick Jagger there? I’ve met him so many times.’