Piratical Pete

Our visitor, HH and I all danced to variations on British time this morning, waking ridiculously early (there’s a four-hour time difference). HH breakfasted at around 03:30, then went back to bed, Rose read in bed for hours, while I swore roundly to myself, screwed my eyes shut again and only emerged at around 8:30. After breakfast, Rose and I walked along the beach, where I couldn’t resist asking the gent above if I might take a photo. He raised no objection - he didn’t look happy about it, but I doubt that he 'does' happy. We then stocked up on more fruit and veg at the street market and HH came to help us carry it home. R’s son, Patrick, turned up with his girlfriend and we had a chaotic and decidedly inferior snack on the corner before the young hit and R and I went off to the ‘Hippy Fair’, which hasn’t changed much since she last saw it, 32 years ago.

Husband Andy eventually arrived up at around 5 and I spent a silly amount of time rustling up enough food to satisfy four people with big appetites. Kitchens and I aren’t well suited, but with Rose’s help (as a practiced mother of four), we got there in the end. Now for bed, and hopefully, a more sensible sleep record than last night.