Indian Ocean
Well, beloved believers, here I am, with the sound of the Indian Ocean whispering gently in the background, once more offering you support and succour in your search for success and salvation in this sometimes sad state of existence. In other words, I hope to make you smile!
I realise that I have not yet explained how DOT’s car almost caught fire, so I shall give advice on avoiding such a catastrophe. (For those who may be new to the Lifestyle Support Guru, DOT is a sibling known as Dai Of Tanzania. The other accompanying sibling is TOFU, or Trefor OF ‘Ull.) In addition to motoring matters, I shall be advising on the essential look to cultivate this season when in an EXTREMELY HOT place.
Both male siblings are extremely practical people and I am always pleased when they find
Pet rescue
themselves a project because it means they will leave me in peace to play Pet Rescue rather than taking a brisk walk in the searing African heat. This particular project involved the simple task of putting the battery back in DOT’s 4×4 – it had been on charge all night after being drained when helping someone else start their car with jump leads (I sound as if I know what I’m talking about, don’t I?). I am happily ensconced on the computer and can hear the contented chatter of siblings outside as they do a passable imitation of Jeremy Clarkson (only nicer). Suddenly, I hear TOFU cry out, ‘Open the bonnet! Open the bonnet! It’s on fire!’ I rush to the door to see smoke pouring from the engine while TOFU and DOT are doing their best to remove the battery, which had shorted because of an exposed wire (I still sound as if I know what I’m talking about). It all ended happily, with the exposed wire replaced and the car running smoothly, if smelling a little bit like the day after Bonfire Night.
Masai
Now, with regard to matters sartorial, I have to inform you that, not surprisingly, the LSG has been attracting many glances since arriving on the east coast of Zanzibar this morning (I cannot think that the glances are anything but admiring). The ‘look’ is easy to achieve – simply take a gentle stroll along the white sands in the heat of the midday sun, then speed up a little to get away from the ‘genuine’ Masai trying to sell you anything from a ‘genuine’ Masai bracelet handwoven in the factory down the road to a ‘genuine’ Masai Manchester Utd football shirt knitted by ‘genuine’ Masai grandmothers, and all of this sales pitch accompanied by the constant repetition of ‘Hakuna Matata’, which has probably never been heard outside the West End or Broadway.
You will arrive at your destination (a beach bar, of course) with the PERFECT ‘look’, which will be admired by svelte Swedes, nymphlike Norwegians and delicious Danes, all of whom will be imitating the ‘look’ tomorrow – red face, sweat dripping into your beer, hair resembling a pan scourer. You’ll know you’ve made it when one sibling looks at you, laughs and says, ‘Are you sure you like hot climates?’ The answer, of course, is ‘Hakuna Matata’!
Enjoy your weekend and think of me suffering the trials and tribulations of another day on white sand, soothed by the murmuring of the sea in the background. It’s a hard life, but someone has to experience it. All I need to say is: Tatou Kilimanjaro barridi, taffidali.