What did Boris say? I think we might need an actual diviner to figure it out. A big vibrating stick. I mean, I’m slow on these matters, but the only thing I got as a definite was that the British can now play tennis – but only if they are in the same household. Phew. I love being British.
Meanwhile, our decision to go or to stay is slowly being made – even without any obvious official guidelines. Not that we’re actively making it either. Just certain things are happening.
Jack for example, had the dive of his life. He went down to see his mates, the morays under Quest. They rubbed themselves against his camera, came out of their holes and swam with him. They waited so he could catch up. Three times they stopped, waited for him and restarted. Yes, he did have fish heads with him, but they didn’t seem to care about the free meals. The eels left them lying in the sand. Then, as Jack was watching the morays, he got the shock of his life.
A huge stingray; 8-person table-sized, was quietly munching on one of the discarded fish heads – right next to him. We know this stingray. It cruises up and down our anchorage and, like the eels, doesn’t venture to the surface. We see it occasionally while snorkelling. It does its ray thing: that magnificent cartilaginous flying move. No one likes a show-off! It’s never come close to us before though. Until it came really close to Jack.
Jack came back up, jubilant. Surprisingly, we were a bit meh about the whole thing. I mean the video he took was awesome and all. It’s just been a heavy week of schoolwork for the rest of Quest.
He had in fact, invited Lu to go with him. It’s with a heavy heart I report that she wasn’t so enthusiastic. He ended up going on his own.
Truth be told, Lu is probably suffering the most out of us at the moment. All this talk of going home versus not going home. She is of course the beautiful teenage bear. But she is more than that. She is also the toddler, when we first moved to Wales, who refused to take her slippers off and a yellow, inflatable, swimming armband (aka golden crown) off her head.
Never forget that confused, sweaty head. For six months, asleep was the only time I could remove the armband. I think I just left her slippers on.
In hindsight we’ve realised it’s perhaps been unfair to discuss these matters, drawn up a pros-and-cons list and mull over it with her in earshot.
I mean, her dad makes friends with moray eels and possibly an enormous stingray. What’s not to love?? We should ask Boris. He’d reach for his diviner.