Country number: 86
Territory number: 94
When? April 2003 – return 2008
Who? Singles holiday
‘A new broom sweeps clean, but an old broom knows the corners.’
Well I still don’t seem to have worked out how to propitiate the rain god. The weather hasn’t been great here in Grenada. The red flag is wafting in the wind still as I speak. But I’ve had enough sun to get a tan. Though no-one will see my strap marks, as its winter and we all have loads of clothes on and there isn’t anyone around at the moment to see me with my clothes off.
The hotel is still nice too but I’m not sure who rates highest on the scale of importance, the staff or the guests. I’m only here for a week and so far we’ve had the staff children’s party all over the beach and the staff dinner party so we all had to eat fast and early and the cooperate do in the beach restaurant, so we couldn’t use it at all. We’ve also had no hot water for two nights. There was a burst pipe. I’ve just washed my hair in some coppery coloured liquid coming out of the tap at two centimetres a minute. I am off to dry it and see if I’ve now got auburn highlights.
But the highlight (?) of the trip has definitely been Stalker Man. (He used to be called Twelve Contender Boatman). Date One in the UK I told him I was coming here. I only saw him three times. So when I turn up there he is, waving at me from the terrace. How weird is that? He is on his mobile so I just nip by and go to my room. So then he goes all anxious and avoids me, just hangs around the bar talking to all the singles, which makes it very hard for me to join them too – great.
Instead, I hang around with the other new arrivals at the opposite end of the bar. here are, at least good margaritas. A few of those and we’re all under the bar. And I tell them about Mr. Stalker (who is also called John by the way) and they decide I need protecting, especially as he is hanging around. So after midnight one gangly 33 year old (nice eyes though) insists on escorting me to my room. And makes a pretty determined pass outside the door. I tell him that this is not a good idea and he should go to bed, though conversation is a bit difficult as he’s got me pinned against the door. When I’ve persuaded him that’s not an invitation he departs. Next he proceeds to sulk for the rest of the week, so that’s the other group I can’t join either now. Excellent.
I wander up beautiful Grand Anse Beach and poke around the little boutiques and stalls in the spice market. I’ve tried swimming on my own but the lifeguard is determined to accompany me, to ‘make sure I’m safe’ and keeps popping up at my side.
A sunset boat cruise round the picturesque harbour of St George, with the compulsory rum punch, is relaxing. A car around the island makes a better escape. The weather is still not great, but there are flowers aplenty and rum distilleries and plantation houses to visit.
So it’s been a quiet week. Stalker went home yesterday. It was only then I realised that he was actually in the next door room to me. How much of a coincidence is that? Well at least he will have heard 33 Year Old making a move. No wonder he kept a low profile.