Beam me up

I’ve not had to use an alarm for a week and it has been bliss. Last night’s dream was random but in a more interesting way than some of the humdrum dreams of recent months.

I was walking along a long slippery beam in the tropical house of an unnamed zoological collection. I assumed it was in Africa because the familiar uniform of the Mozambican police emerged sternly from one of those kitchen-esque rooms where zookeepers cut up greenery. However an alligator was lurking in the water below the beam and this wouldn’t be biogeographically accurate for Africa.

When I emerged into daylight I realised I was actually at Alton Towers. Close to the Runaway Mine Train area in the late 1990s, for the aficionados among you.

I relaxed in the pool at the guesthouse, watching swallows or martins (too fast to distinguish) dive to the water to drink, and later had an early evening meal of lasagne at my favourite little rooftop spot on the island. The call to prayer rang out, orange street lights glowed in the dusk, and fruit bats swept overhead. It was lovely for my last night on Ilha.

Meanwhile, this woman from Pontypridd is my spirit animal. Her commitment to yellow sticker purchases is outstanding.