‘Do you feel trapped?’ Jack asked me just now.
My body as far away as possible. Pretty much licking the wooden cabin panelling.
‘Of course I feel trapped. Who doesn’t feel trapped?’
Nothing like avoiding decisions on a Sunday. A Sunday when it’s Mother’s Day. A Sunday Mother’s Day when your husband goes into grump mode.
Grump mode must be going on all over the world at the moment. After all, people are getting sick and we’re bickering over using two litres of water for rinsing laundry. Two piddly litres. Isn’t isolation a hoot? The painful thing is by boat living, we’ve been doing isolation on and off for years and it’s still a hoot. I don’t even ask myself if I’m crazy anymore.
Take a chill pill. Grump mode is also inevitable. There is some can-carrying going on. Fear. We’re all trying to do what’s best while staying safe. In these everyday pandemic moments, running away with your knickers in your hands is probably a normal reaction. Just me and my knockers. I mean knickers. Damn you automatic speller.
At one stage today, we had a number of options up in the air. We considered that if Alicia goes home, then me and the girls would go with her. On one of the supposed last BA flights out of Barbados. Not a bad idea, no? We ladies would at least be returning to our home country.
I thought about it. Later, I was in the saloon when a frigate bird popped up in my visual field. Through one of the cabin hatches. I saw it hovering high up above, its black wings stamping a ‘W’ in the air. Frigates are huge. Pirate birds people call them. Their ratio of huge feathery wings to their weight means that if they get wet, they struggle to become airborne again. Without being able to dive for their own dinner, they tend to steal it from other birds.
I looked closer. Was that Grandpa? I’m a believer in our loved ones appearing to us after they’ve died – in various forms. The timing was certainly good.
The bird was staring down. Its large black beak at an angle. Was Grandpa reminding me that I promised to look after his baby? His grumpy baby.
The bird dove down towards the water. It glided over the rippling waves. I swallowed. Ok, I cant leave Quest. None of us are leaving Quest. The safest we can be right now is to stick together. We keep each other safe. The bird swooped the surface and headed back up into the air. Got it, Grandpa. Just give me the strength not to throttle your baby. Or your baby’s babies.
Later, Lulu was scrolling through people’s stories. One girl had written an admonishing post about how people shouldn’t be treating this as a holiday.’
‘I agreed and put it on my story too – but then I thought that everyone thinks I’m on holiday. I got rid of it as quickly ad I could.’
We laughed for ages on that one.