Enter RIGHT wife number 4 and ‘current’ partner for almost 30 years, my Louise my wife, my life. We really enjoy all the pressures of running the Car Boots during the entire season but at the end we spend our leisure time staying at home alone, we never go out been there done all of that, happiness is! At the end of each season we treat ourselves to a month’s holiday for some splendid isolation also to get far away from the maddening crowds and the hundreds of phone calls and the many thousands of our customers much as we love them but now is the time so let’s get some sun to our bodies and recharge our batteries and prepare for next seasons Car Boot Sales. After serious consideration I wanted to go to Mauritius but ‘her indoors’ wanted to go to The Seychelles. We decide (no her decides) that we book for the Seychelles in January when air fares and rented accommodations are much cheaper and there are not so many hundreds and thousands of people at the airports. So let’s get booking. Through the courtesy of the Internet I had taken advantage of reduced flights prices and ‘done a deal’ with a man who was the Manager of a hotel ‘The New Emerald Inn’ that I would pay to rent his 4 bedroomed villa at an agreed discounted price for the four weeks and he would let us stay at The New Emerald Inn which was on its own island fully inclusive for five days for a bargain price. Deal done!
After arriving at the stunning brand new Seychelles Airport we drove around the island mainly for me to be able to show Lou some of the spectacular scenery also for me to recover some of the few happier moments and memories of my 1977 holidays and to return to some of the beaches and get snorkelling. What a dreadful shame as most of the beaches on the island were covered with millions upon millions of broken pieces of white coral washed ashore from tidal and climate changes over several years so making snorkeling a distant dream compared to my last visit. Some of the distant white sandy beaches were scruffy and whilst the Seychelles has the most beautiful beaches in the world it seemed that standards had dropped over the years in the cleanliness and presentation to the public. The Fishermen’s Cove hotel which I had looked after for a couple of days ‘during their war’ had been renamed, we did not go into the hotel but their beach area was uninviting I believe to distract non guests from using the hotel facilities, toilets are a rarity around the beaches in the Seychelles, fancy a pee, take a leak in the sea, but beware because fishes fcuk in the same water. In fairness to Coral Strand the hotel that I had walked out of in 1977 the new owners had rebuilt a new and quality hotel on the seafront and a very impressive complex earning the hotel a 4 Star rating, superb staff with happy guests and some great lunchtime foods with ice cold local beers all served to you right there on the beach. Most of the very popular beaches are kept and swept daily, what a boring job but a delightful team of local sweepers loved their jobs and did a superb job out in the boiling sun all day but they were so happy to be alive with a really nice and friendly attitude towards the tourists, dear of them. The 4 bedroomed house (they called it a Villa) was set in the mountains with great views across the Indian Ocean from the balcony. On arrival a very frightened local neglected dog owned by one of the locals adopted us so we ‘fed it up’ during our stay. The dog would not come close to us so we respected its wish. Towards the end of our stay the dog was laying in the garden when some local vagrant came bounding up the stairs to our house frightening the life out of both of us FFS!! The dog went absolutely berserk snarling and barking and standing close to us two and protect and defend us from this vagrant who fled back down the stairs and was chased out of sight by our adopted new ‘Doggo’ friend. We went to the local beaches most days but the bloody waves were so fierce there was not a lot of pleasure in trying to swim. The waves are so much stronger in some areas than in the majority of calm seas beaches in the Seychelles but I get severely pissed off when I am taking a careful walk into the sea to empty my bladder (you have as well!) when these furking great waves bowls me over ripping my frigging swimming trunks down to my ankles whilst trying to keep my bleeding sandals on at the same time as getting a gob full of rotten tasting furking salt sea water that small and large fishes fcuk in and everyone else pees in FFS! Fecking charming.
Question Time; now be honest with yourselves for once! Would you go into the seas for a pee? Would you come out of the sea to have a pee? Would you get out of the bath for a pee? Would you pee in the bath? Would you stand up to fart (I’ve a windy-bottom FFS) to avoid polluting the barf water? Would you get out of the shower for a pee? Would you have a pee in the shower? If you say NO to all 7 of these questions (I can yes to all 7) then I have to doubt your honesty and integrity and good looks and personal charm FFS cos I believe you could be telling great big fat porkie pies my birds? Oh yes!
Back to the holiday, I had great fun studying a food market with up to 20 food stalls plus a few local awful crap craft stalls looking a bit like a poor man’s Car Boot with no real bargains but I admire the traders who work all day creating to the atmosphere. This type of hot food market is set up on a grassed area next to the beach where people can buy takeaway stir fry’s or curries with all sorts of local dishes all steaming hot with all day boiled rice out in the atmosphere from 10.00am to around 8.00 at night. Without doubt our Health Authorities here in Cornwall would have closed all of these catering stalls down in no time at all. There were NO toilet facilities for the people selling the food (nor for their customers) so a quick pee in the hedge several times a day of handling their tools for the cooks on each stall but there is nowhere to wash their hands, so then it’s back to handling their customer’s foods without a care in the world FFS, how the woman managed I dread to think (dribble drawers) but this food market is right next door to a five star hotel and their guests come out of their seafront 5 Star Hotel and are the best customers at these unhealthy stalls (bloody posers)
My big disappointment about the lack of the wonderful coral seas I remember from my 1977 visit was boosted one day with a promise that ‘just a short trip away’ in a clapped out old boat there was great snorkeling amongst the corals and fish in abundance or so I was absolutely assured by the operators which was an absolute load of bollocks with nowt to see apart from a few tiddlers and no bloody coral at all cos it was all crushed up on the beach FFS!! I was stunned to see and hear the reaction from some Japanese women who went berserk after they had been conned into the same trip screamingly demanding refunds. The small boats that operate these con tricks to ‘see the corals’ that do not exist and the Seychelles Tourist Boards should tone down their publicity and face reality that the seas and climate changes over many years have wiped out the corals that were once teaming with delightful coral and salt water fish but certainly great snorkeling that once existed has gone forever on the islands. It was a poor reflection on the Seychelles because ‘Japanese and Chinese whispers’ of discontent and complaints could totally cripple the vast tourism for the Seychelles. The Japanese people are the big spenders of today but have you ever watched a group of them there people on holiday, they are all such a miserable lot and the look on their faces is that they are all in need of the loo ‘innerhuwwy pweaze’ FFS! They do absolutely everything together as a group. They arrive from the Airport in a coach and they all file out as everyone gets into line with the same glum grimaces on their faces especially the Wang-King families as they come down the steps of their hotel walking in a morbid line of 30 people or more everywhere they go snaking and shuffling their path towards the beach all dressed up in the pure white dressing gowns and towels borrowed (nicked) from the hotel and arriving at the beach in a line and they all look like something not quite right in the heads as they all disrobe from their pure white dressing gowns revealing matching pure white bodies and the most hideous swimsuits and a few dreadful figures as well and some of them have even got knitted cossies on from before the war FFS then it’s off to dip their bodies into the sea have a quick pee or a plop and they are all so contented as they get motivated with the waves all “a bobbing up and down with wonky eyes and flied rice” (number 46 please) but moving totally as a wave of complete and utter nutters, how sweet, bless them all, happiness is! But watch out when they all arrive in a coach-load to a restaurant in a line of 45 people and you are last in the queue, my serious advice is ‘go somewhere else’ to eat or go without FFS!
Which reminds me, lovely day, I decide to sit on the beach and watch the world go by in particular I love to watch people’s body languages especially the lovely ladies on their beach walk in their almost bikinis most of them are completely ‘up themselves’ (and if I was as gorgeous as them I would be as well) I noticed that the beach was a good place for men to pick up other men (Do you want a naughty boy for half an hour dear?) (male prostitution so to speak) as they patrol the beaches with their wiggle and their very affected walk with their tight arsed bum butts and their almost naked in their shorter than short arsed shorts almost displaying inch by inch what is available for ‘the lucky guy’ with a wiggle or a wank either to the front or either to the rear my dears bottoms up FFS! Bless of them!
It seems that most of the lovely ladies to be seen walking alone on the beaches are just getting away from him for a few minutes peace and quiet and for some ‘ME’ time FFS! But hold on, who are they furiously texting during their ‘clear the air’ walks? I always take my mobile on holiday with me to keep in touch with our business so I leave Ansa phone messages about the Car Boot Sales. Occasionally I get the odd call from Cornwall enquiring what Boot Sales are on so I am as brief as possible because they are paying for the call but you occasionally get someone who witters on and on until I can eventually interrupt by saying “I am in the Indian Ocean my lover and you are paying for this call” one old blokie thought the Indian Ocean was the name of a local pub in Lemon Street Cornwall dear of him! DOS!
One old codger from a couple of years ago sounded a real grumpy old git asking me if TRURO was on this Sunday and I said definitely ‘Yes’ but as he put the phone down I heard him say ‘No, it’s not on’ to his missus FFS spoiling her afternoon out. Not so my lovers, I telephoned back hoping to speak to the wife and sure enough she answered the phone. “It’s Geoff from the Car Boots I just spoke to your man he phoned to ask about Truro” ‘Yes’ said she ‘He told me it was off’ I then recognized the lady’s voice and said “Kick his ass darling cos I told him it was definitely ON my bird” the rest of the conversation is not worth repeating but the lady arrived in time for the start of the sale (I got a kiss see) anyways up I later wandered around the car park and there he was her disgruntled Chauffeur husband ‘sitting all alone’ waiting for her FFS, alone in his car with a face like a trapped fart which turned to rage when he saw me as I offered a ‘High Five’ gesture and his reaction was to use a ‘one finger only’ gesture (ill-mannered sod) and I think he said ‘up yours’ followed by YFUB but I seriously didn’t GAF cos I thought he were acting like an idiot trying to deprive his missus of an hour or so at a pigging Car Boot Sale FFS. The winner of the day was his darling wifey woman driven by him into her regular Truro Car Boot so she could thoroughly enjoy some well-earned retail therapy ‘ME’ time and I bet he nagged her on and on all the way to the Car Boot and all the way back home FFS! But ‘her’ looked totally in charge, I wouldn’t want to upset her FFS! Great fun!
Anyway back to St Kitts; The beach Police do a fantastic job in supervising the security of the beaches especially where there are thousands upon thousands of people expected all over the weekends and they are NOT allowed to be disturbed by traders constantly trying to sell useless allegedly local crafts but pure toot. Mauritius and the Seychelles public places are very well policed they don’t get good wages but they are dedicated to their jobs where in such a peaceful country there is not a lot of stress involved apart from law and order and to protect the vast Tourism Industry.
Hey man, I was talking to a couple of Rasta lads and the story goes that wherever in the World you see a Rasta Man you can score local weed, Cannabis. My supplies for my 2 a day (then 2 more) were OK but I was being nosy and asked a few questions about local weed? Having been to the vast and Promised Land of the Cannabis plantations in St Kitts where you only have to sit amongst the plants for a few minutes and you shortly are away with the fairies and you couldn’t GAF about anything (bliss) however I was basically wanting to compare growing skills. We were sent to some place way up in the hills ending up at what looked like an unadopted road when some blokie shouts out words to the effect “You can’t get up that road” We get out of the car to chat with blokie. Lou notices a flying fox bat thing in a cage, my immediate reaction is EBOLA! I say to her “don’t touch that figging thing, keep well away cos those bastards they started Ebola FFS”
The blokie starts ’chatting up’ Lou offering her some food to feed the figging ugly bat thing which is hanging upside down in its cage. Blokie is eager to send me round to the back of his house-shack to see his plants most of which were neglected and looking dead. He then tells me ’if you come back tomorrow I will have some fresh from the farm to show you’ Lou insists with a FLAF ‘Let’s go, we certainly will not be back here tomorrow’ and marches back to the car. We drive away, I ask ‘WT F why all the hurry to get away’? She tells me the man was chatting her up and ‘get this FFS’ he has never seen her before in his life (not that I know about) and he had the absolute frigging nerve to ask her to leave me and for her to stay here in the Seychelles with him in this house which was a messed up old shack and it seems like he has a woman already of his own loitering in the background. And is he some plum furking ugly or what? God my wife certainly knows how to pull a bloke and this idiot who has a gob empty of 95% of his teeth and he didn’t smell that good neither, he needs a shave a few baths a bucket of aftershave and some new clothes and here he is all on a plate on offer to my missus instead of me FFS but worse was to come!!
Her says, “He gave me some fruit for that fox bat frigging thing and it scratched my hand and nearly made it bleed as it grabbed for the food” (Sorry Marge, I am about to swear-look away dear) “It fucking WHAT”? ‘It scratched me’ and sure enough there was an inch and a half scratch looking ‘ready to bleed’ on the back of her hand OMG what a pain in the arse my wife is at times. Great fun!! Now then, I don’t very often go berserk nor ballistic but on this occasion FFS! FFS! instructions like “do not touch me you could pass Ebola on to me FFS, OMG it has got to be ‘separate beds’ and no sex and no more Willie time for at least a month despite your demands (if only) hadn’t you ought to go home to mummy (if only) for a few weeks-months perhaps FFS” Her hand scratch had gone in a couple of days but I mean she is becoming such a liability poor soul. And if her rudeness does not stop then I have a difficult decision to make. Shall I just FRO and leave her here to stay in the Seychelles with the new beaux blokie in her life with his bedbug ridden face or shall I invite him for a threesome and he can bring along his frigging bat thing along as well FFS! Didn’t you score well darling with your very own poor man’s smelly Worzel Gummage? Proud of you! Yuck! But then, I must now consider that at my age I could possibly be losing the plot and that something is really wrong with my taste buds for women after all these years I mean he had more holes and bumps in his face than a second hand cheese grater FFS!! And he didn’t smell that good neither (that’s twice) he smelt like he were permanently crapping himself FFS did my wife’s new boyfriend, so he did! Wait till I tell her daddy and her mummy! My only regret is that I didn’t take his picture to show to her parents and to put it on this blog and to remind my Lou ‘Do you remember when you scored with this blokie?’ which should earn me a smart kick in the knackers but this story is true, oh yes and ask her about how she nearly brought EBOLA to Cornwall. Such fun, such stupidity, but we do love each other QAB and then a little QAB bit more FFS.
The promised 5 day stay at The New Emerald Hotel Inn has arrived, it started off badly because there was nothing new about the hotel apart from a ‘New Emerald Inn’ sign. The hotel was set on an island surrounded by blue seas and calm clear blue waters with a free ferry to the mainland and back service. The deserted beaches were almost covered with broken coral brought in from the waves. You couldn’t walk on the beach without shoes or wellies as most of the sand was hidden by the tons of broken coral which to all tourists is such a huge disappointment. The rooms are all timber built with 8 apartments per building. You could lay awake at nights listening to the beautiful sounds of the soft waves lapping the soft sands and sweeping more of the broken corals onto the beach and at the same time you could hear the wooden timbers of the building creaking after a boiling hot day in the sun, then you would hear residents from other rooms doing their after midnight toiletries coughing up retching up loads of phlegm and spitting or being sickly and cockling or barfing up in the bog or loudly farting or flushing the pigging chains all night long FFS and all of these sounds are echoed through the thin walls of each apartment. There was one room with a hell of a squeaky bed, I reckon the occupants must have been shagging all night long especially with their Ooos and Arss and distant moaning’s and groaning’s, just shut TFU and get it over with I just want to get some pigging sleep FFS but my darling wife dear of her snores her way through all the noises adding to all the other wonderful night-time sound effects!
Anyways, we were the only English couple at the hotel the rest of the residents were frigging frogging French folkers who seemed a loud mouthed lot with very offensive smoking habits whilst getting foods from the buffet FFS! A group of them were standing around our table which was near to the buffet, they were smoking whilst self-serving themselves their plates of food. Lou could see I was getting pretty pissed off with these ignorant buggers and I was about to ask them in a very loud voice (and I would) “Excuse me, do you speak English? Then FRO-FFS” but Lou wouldn’t let me. I have decided that the French people and their dreadful table manners and loud gobs win my vote for people to avoid in hotels where the noisy gobby frogs stay. Nothing personal you understand, just we like to be quiet British people trying to enjoy a peaceful holiday not shouting our mouths off that’s not a lot to ask for is it? FFS! The noise they made in the open air restaurant was way over the top shouting between tables about some terrorist attack in France and what ‘they would do about it all’ and here they are gobbing it off in the safety of another world FFS, but to smoke at the table and in the restaurant whilst other people are eating is pig-snot-ignorant and French rudeness. I mean do it at home if you will but not in public restaurants FFS!
The rooms whilst nice were dated and the bed creaked like all the time so turning over during the night or being restless like me was not an option. Also another no go area was a ‘quick-one’ or a ‘slow one’ or a knee-trembler was totally out of the question cos the freaking frigging floorboards creaked like mad to the sounds and vibrations as you thrust forwards and backwards (dream on) FFS! “So let’s do it on the beach after dark?” ‘What’s in it for me?’ ‘Sand’ “Nah, not on the beach that’s a sure fire way of getting night time crabs FFS’ Tell me, if you get crabs can you claim for the nippers? Talking about crabs the food was OK-ish but I believe the policy of the hotel was FPP ‘French People Preferred’ I agree, shove it!
Anyway one beautiful morning we were sitting outside having a coffee admiring the views in the blazing sun but just quietly minding our own business when a woman from the hotel bubbling with enthusiasm and crooked teeth told us that ‘you have been invited to a beach wedding that is taking place in that marriage shack just over there in about an 20 minutes time’. Before my Lou had chance I said “Thank you dear but no thank you” ‘Why ever not’ “Because my dear I have been married 4 times, my previous 3 wives have died of food poisoning (eating their own cooking) and the 4th one won’t! Why should I go and share in someone else’s misery but if my current wife wants to that is entirely up to her” Crooked teeth dear of her walks away laughing but in disgust. Now then, she had mentioned that the couple getting married were French then I certainly do not want to spend any part of my holiday time watching a couple of frogging French tie the frigging knot FFS no way thanks that’s just frog-snot for me! But I had to give in, didn’t I?
To keep the peace (demanded) we watched from a distance as some photographer hired for the event falls into the sea trying to get ‘that special picture’ The bride and groom were totally overdressed, I mean her was wearing a full white flowing gown like dress looking like a crinoline lady with a bunch of dying flowers brought from France in their suitcase! The dress swept the beach as she walked but him FFS he was wearing a full 3 piece Grey mourning suit with tails and a cummerbund to hide his gut with his little vesty and his shirt collar and tie and his sweaty balls grundies and of course a MF top hat and he were sweating buckets FFS! How very romantic fer a pair of frogs FF sake but I wished them well.
Actually, it is not such a daft idea to get married abroad like this couple cos you don’t have to have to pay for the entire pigging family and your alleged pigging friends to your wedding reception cos the next time you’ll see the majority of them will probably be at some poor buggers funeral FFS! Or, better still do as Lou and I did. After years of her pleading with me to marry her we eventually get married in the registry office in Falmouth and with no disrespects to any other persons it was our day so we told only two people, our witnesses. Nobody else found out until months later but it cost us nowt apart from paying for the marriage certificate (best bargain ever) and we bought pressies for our witnesses, bliss my lovers and to think of the savings towards that mortgage?
The hotel had 3 or 4 of those giant tortoises roaming around the grounds and they crap just like horses with huge pound sized dumps laying around either in the sand or on the grass, if you tread into one by accident they stink like fcuk cos all they do all day is eat and crap-crap and eat and some of them live over 100 years, imagine the mountainous piles of crap after 100 years FFS. They are almost non-moving emotionless gut bucket garden ornaments with none absolutely zilcho grass appeal like say our fields of lonely horses here in Cornwall who are left to ‘go it alone’ when no-one ever comes to see them FFS during the winter months. These lonely horses are owned by spoiled brat kids who neglect their living (posers) garden ornaments, “I’ve gotta horse, don’t you know” Seriously, I think these giant tortoises with dreadful stinky poo-poos (bit like Lou’s new boyfriend really) are a waste of space and really no fun at all for the kids.
Even worse for the miserable old git that I am at times, we have got our meal from the elaborate buffet and sit down to eat. I notice at another nearby table there are these two French very camp and very gay lads sitting opposite each other. Now then, I have nothing against gay men cos I have loved several especially in my Butlins & Pontins days ( not physically you understand) but with gay relationships as long as whatever they do they do that is their own business ‘behind’ closed doors and not played out in a restaurant in front of me FFS. Just do your thing, but don’t interfere with my life style then that’s fine with me. But, these two are sitting opposite me and each other blowing kisses and looking alluringly at each other which is really distracting and pissing me off while I am trying to eat FFS! It gets worse when they started slavering on forking fork feeding each other with baby carrots dipped into their champagne glasses then offered to each across the table as they dribble and slavver the contents down their rotten gobs FFS!! FFS!! When I see their proposed sweet brought from the buffet including a giant banana I had-had enough so let’s get up and move. I say’s to my Lou ‘Let’s pick up our plates and walk FFS! A huge row erupted one day between two chefs all dressed up in their white glad rags in front of the guests one which was the first and only time the Frogs restaurant was silenced, we thought it was the Cabaret act FFS. The row? Handbags darlings, Chefs can be such a bitchy antagonistic load of bastards at times, best chefs and cooks in the world? Women of course given the customary ‘hot flush’ day off of course, dear of them all queens of the kitchen and I am full of bull-shit!
Which reminds me (this is true) years ago Lou and I were in a really nice posh Thailand Hotel restaurant when I notice a very-very-very attractive young Thai lady sitting alone at the table over there behind Lou and is she some lovely or what? I think I am falling in love again! She is making eyes at me and making rude gestures with her open legs under her table indicating for me to go sit and talk to her FFS! I assume the worst that she might be another child maintenance claimant but I can cope for a little while longer (where’s my camera?) She was some gorgeous but she was also distracting me, I watched and tried to ignore her (liar) but then I decide I have got to fess up to Lou. “Behind you at the next table there is a very-very attractive young lady she is trying to draw my attention to her and I think she wants to talk to me, take a look” Lou turns around and the very-very attractive young lady gave Lou a stunningly beautiful smile with all of her own pure white teeth and at the same time under the table pulling up her skirt and opened her legs to reveal her Thai barely hairy fairy also indicating and miming that she joins us for a meal then the three of us could do it together’ in the hotel bedrooms upstairs FFS! Yeah, let’s go for it’ I thought silently (getting it past Lou was the problem) Apparently she was a hotel prossie who tried to pick up lonely hotel residents (suddenly I’m lonely) for ‘hours of fun’ after feeding her plus paying her a small fee and her was quite happy with a threesomes ‘SWI’ but Lou politely refused (Whereas I seriously did want to negotiate on my own behalf, thank you very much) the very-very pretty young lady with a stunning figure got up from her seat (nice bum) and with a sexy wave walked away to another table and out of my life. Now then, that was what I would call a total fcuk-up and a complete conversation killer especially with my imaginations which were running wildly and enthusiastically into overdrive and I still had one crunched up Viagra in my pocket from two years ago should such an occasion ‘arise’ FFS! (Not true-the Viagra bit) dear!
We don’t do restaurants very much cos we like to self-cater buying our foods from the markets and try to eat what the locals eat but a Pizza place we went to in Mahebourg was a miserable experience the food was lousy and the owner was some sour faced old Biddie matching the food. She was an old lady probably over 75 (stone) pretty unattractive with a huge geet Caribbean arse and boobs to match, her was some large as her hobbles and wobbles around the tables serving the meals, taking orders and the money. She had a hip injury of some sort so if you are sitting on the end of the table chances are sometimes her huge arse will barge against you whilst you’re trying to eat FFS but her attitude seemed to be that it was all the customer’s fault that she had a serious limp! She should have given the job up years ago the MOB, no one is indispensable my bird, get a manager, happier customers, equals better food! Was she the most miserable person of the Seychelles, no her were much worse than that! But then someone must of loved her, it would have been good to take a large picture of her to put above the fire place, that’ll keep the bleeden kids away from the fire FFS! I did get the impression that some of the shopkeepers were sick to death of the tourists however The Seychelles is a lovely stunning beautiful country the people are nice, the weather is fantastic it is of course the beautiful Seychelles in the Indian Ocean and although we had a wonderful bonding time together we have decided already to return to Mauritius for our next holiday in a year’s time.
