After
that experience with US Customs and Immigration in Mayaguez, I decided to skip
USVI altogether. They weren’t nasty or anything. It's just their general attitude towards the girls. Pity because I'd wanted to take a peek at Vieques. Sailed right
past it anyway.
So here we are in Soper’s Hole, BVI. This is a very nice little Marina on the West end of Tortola. ($1 per foot per night for monohull. Cable $5.) Suits us fine. Oscar’s island is just a short sail away but I’m not ready to go and see him just yet. He’s a crafty bastard is Oscar. I wouldn’t put anything past him and my instincts tell me not to go rushing over there. Plenty to do here anyway. E-mail, odd jobs on the boat, catch up on some reading.
This would be a good time to do some washing. There’s a laundrette in town but the girls tend to get lazy if you spoil them so I get the Buriram girls out on the jetty with a bar of soap. I like watching Thai girls wash clothes and it always gets the other yachties attention. Not that I want to piss anybody off but it gives me an opportunity to meet the neighbours.
I met a couple this morning. I’d just got the girls scrubbing nicely when some old bag on the next boat sticks her scrawny head up and says...
“Excuse me, you do realize that all the waste matter finds it’s way back into the ecosystem don’t you?”
“Well yes of course,” say I, “Don’t tell me you never pissed off the transom?”
“Hmmph,” she says,” that’s hardly the point. Urine is not the same as PCBs you know.”
“Ah,” says I quick as a flash, “that’s why we only use organic soap. We like the kind made with olive oil. Especially if it’s got a bit of corn meal mixed in. Helps get the tramlines out of underpants.”
I’m thinking of telling her how repulsive she looks in a bikini when her old man pops up.
“Hallo,” says he, catching a nice glimpse of Ning’s tits as she bends over, “spot of laundry? Good show.”
“Yes,” I say,” very good show. You should have seen her when she was dancing in Soi Cowboy. Blokes were lined up down the street to pay her barfine. Ever been to Bangkok?” He gives me a sad little smile, like he’s got my number, and goes back to whatever he was doing. Times crossword most likely.
Then a few minutes later he’s back and giving me funny looks.
“Excuse me but have I seen you before somewhere?” he asks.
“Wanted posters maybe?” I quip.
“I’ve got it! You’re Dick Headley aren’t you? The football chap.”
“Guilty as charged. Who might you be?”
“Julian Snagge Q.C. Retired. I used to be a magistrate.”
“Bloody hell! You’re the bloke that did me for acid! Small world innit?”
Well there’s bit of an awkward silence for a moment as we both think back then he says, “Look can I buy you a drink sometime?”
“That would be nice,” I say, “why don’t we meet in Bomba’s later on….er….just the two of us OK?”
“Bomba’s?”
“Apple Bay. Just up the road. Get a taxi.”
I think when the girls have finished the laundry I’ll take everybody to Pusser’s Landing. They do a very nice pie and chips. You can wash it down with a frosty pint of John Courage Draft Beer. The girls will go for the pizza I expect. Then we can sit on the patio with the other rich idle bastards and watch the boats coming and going in the harbour. Did I mention Pusser's Rum Painkiller? It’s a kind of special cocktail they have. Goes down a treat. Fancy running into Sir Julian!
So here we are in Soper’s Hole, BVI. This is a very nice little Marina on the West end of Tortola. ($1 per foot per night for monohull. Cable $5.) Suits us fine. Oscar’s island is just a short sail away but I’m not ready to go and see him just yet. He’s a crafty bastard is Oscar. I wouldn’t put anything past him and my instincts tell me not to go rushing over there. Plenty to do here anyway. E-mail, odd jobs on the boat, catch up on some reading.
This would be a good time to do some washing. There’s a laundrette in town but the girls tend to get lazy if you spoil them so I get the Buriram girls out on the jetty with a bar of soap. I like watching Thai girls wash clothes and it always gets the other yachties attention. Not that I want to piss anybody off but it gives me an opportunity to meet the neighbours.
I met a couple this morning. I’d just got the girls scrubbing nicely when some old bag on the next boat sticks her scrawny head up and says...
“Excuse me, you do realize that all the waste matter finds it’s way back into the ecosystem don’t you?”
“Well yes of course,” say I, “Don’t tell me you never pissed off the transom?”
“Hmmph,” she says,” that’s hardly the point. Urine is not the same as PCBs you know.”
“Ah,” says I quick as a flash, “that’s why we only use organic soap. We like the kind made with olive oil. Especially if it’s got a bit of corn meal mixed in. Helps get the tramlines out of underpants.”
I’m thinking of telling her how repulsive she looks in a bikini when her old man pops up.
“Hallo,” says he, catching a nice glimpse of Ning’s tits as she bends over, “spot of laundry? Good show.”
“Yes,” I say,” very good show. You should have seen her when she was dancing in Soi Cowboy. Blokes were lined up down the street to pay her barfine. Ever been to Bangkok?” He gives me a sad little smile, like he’s got my number, and goes back to whatever he was doing. Times crossword most likely.
Then a few minutes later he’s back and giving me funny looks.
“Excuse me but have I seen you before somewhere?” he asks.
“Wanted posters maybe?” I quip.
“I’ve got it! You’re Dick Headley aren’t you? The football chap.”
“Guilty as charged. Who might you be?”
“Julian Snagge Q.C. Retired. I used to be a magistrate.”
“Bloody hell! You’re the bloke that did me for acid! Small world innit?”
Well there’s bit of an awkward silence for a moment as we both think back then he says, “Look can I buy you a drink sometime?”
“That would be nice,” I say, “why don’t we meet in Bomba’s later on….er….just the two of us OK?”
“Bomba’s?”
“Apple Bay. Just up the road. Get a taxi.”
I think when the girls have finished the laundry I’ll take everybody to Pusser’s Landing. They do a very nice pie and chips. You can wash it down with a frosty pint of John Courage Draft Beer. The girls will go for the pizza I expect. Then we can sit on the patio with the other rich idle bastards and watch the boats coming and going in the harbour. Did I mention Pusser's Rum Painkiller? It’s a kind of special cocktail they have. Goes down a treat. Fancy running into Sir Julian!
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