It Is… Pt53 into… Tales from the Hip pg/pt6

‘It Is… Pt.53
‘cf’

… away with the bush beating, it’s been an arse of a week; a billion bills, vis a vis speeding ticket, driving in the bus lane ticket, new road tax, dropping my fags in a puddle on a day I don’t even smoke, dropping toast butter side down on a hairy chicken, butter on toast is a game changer by the way, forget that utterly nonsense, and a painting job that’s been dragging on longer than the Forth Bridge. But hey ho, it’s a laugh innit, it’s a laugh, it’s a laugh; Depeche Mode, mode. But hold the front doo-dahs, for I called up the big guns to help speed the painting progress in the guise of Citrus Wagons, aye, the Mr Citrus Wagons man himself, in person, on the brush, he juggled a few days free and now everything is all catered for. What’s that Mr Dory, hunky? Hmmm. Memory had me too and was fraught with the order of events in what happened next on pg6, but it doesn’t matter because I settled with this…

Tales from the Hip

pg./pt 6

He took a spell in the fin fuelled drink, despite a morbid fear of all things Jaws. The swim was edgy, nigh on exhausting, enough to put him in a coma. Fear should be an Olympic sport. To the left side of the bay a giant’s sack of misshapen rocks tumbled into the sea, one a fat double bed sized boulder, smoothed by the perpetual tide like an unforgiving wife’s brow beating. He woke hours later under a high noon furnace, scorched raw, yet unfazed knowing the burn would brown off in a matter of days, his olive skin trained by the heatwave of ’76, years abroad and a spaghetti heritage. He sat up brushing salty sand from his shoulders and fixed a stirring gaze. Sleep visions still alarmingly real; the man in a wooden hut plain as day, a girl or woman who introduced them, he couldn’t recall her or what she said, only that smile of his, or was it a smirk of foreboding. All the while the smile played with a knife, a large hunting knife, running his thumb down its edge and twisting the tip slowly over his finger tips, talking, playing, greeting, shifting on that disturbing smile, yet he was pleasant enough, pleasant enough if you’re nuts. Jax, under no illusion, knew intimation when he saw it and pulled bravado, returning a friendly enough manner toboot, which he bet would have irked the smile, though it didn’t show. That smile’s face was familiar, Jax thinks.

A seagull landed softly on a rock next to him, its presence snapped Jax from the hut. He brushed his hands from the sand and headed back to his tent for a lunchtime banana, a staple diet.

He thought about smooching around town, but the sun was fierce, so he sat outside his tent and aimlessly watched the world go by. The world on this beach belonged to tourists, Americans mostly, frolicking in an out of season warmth. Two came over, all Yankee doodle friendly, ‘hi’, they greet. A happy looking fella confident with his weight grinned, with him sprang a petit lady friend, equally relaxed and chirpy, looking hot in a primrose yellow bikini tied at the hips. Both older than him, maybe in their 30’s. ‘Is this your tent?’ The Chevy Chase look alike asks, and they squatted on their haunches in front of him. ‘Yep, that’s mine.’ ‘Wait, say that again, you’re English, blimey mate,’ he mimics a wild pronunciation from the bowels of bollocks. Primrose bikini smiles on. Beautiful. ‘Yeah mate, English.’ ‘And you’re staying there, here, in that tent?’ ‘Yeah man.’ ‘Ha’ shrieks bikini lady, drowned out by a seagull landing softly by the banana peel. Jax wonders if it’s stalking him. Minds suitably blown Chevy introduces themselves as Dan and Megan, down from Alaska on an amazing deal. A winter get away in the sun, ‘this is where Night of the Iguana was filmed, you know that, ‘no, what?’ Night of the Iguana man, Richard Burton and Ava Gardner,’ ‘is that right?’, ‘ha, never mind him,’ consoles smiley bikini, he’s a nerd’, she jibes throwing sand. ‘Sleeping in a tent on a beach, a public beach, wow man, that’s rad, mutters Dan as the pair acknowledge their introductions while simultaneously bidding their farewell, and sauntered off in the direction of town, ‘we’ll see you soon,’ they yell half turning, waving.

Jax stuck it out on sand, in the heat, dipping in and out of the shark infested waters, content with the mild bouts of paranoia. Suitably freshened in the salt water he munched another banana for tea then hid his belongings, which consisted of his passport and a few cassettes. He stashed them under his shoulder bag and set out to look around town.  Streets bedecked in lush shaded purple bloomed trees, palms endlessly offering earthy eternal dreams. Buildings vibrantly happy in orange, turquoise and pinks justle on funky narrow streets. Bunting strewn across roads in case you forgot life wasn’t a celebration. Busy with tourists, but not mentally over heated, a manageable throng. He bought a long neck of beer from the cheapest shack he could find and sat at a table with locals under a fast-fading sun where the purples turned to shadows of themselves, drinking beer, smoking wheat and joining in a lingo he couldn’t keep up with nor care.

… till page/pt 7 folks…

He sat at the screen and pondered…

Want to read Durban’s Bread? Try this for size

 … companions on the go; let’s go to the World News…

The 74^th Sapporo Snow Festival in Japan is building in the north isle of Hokkaido. 200 sculptures from 30,000 tonnes of snow pop up, usually of Japanese buildings, castles, pop culture and gaming animations. It attracts 2m visitors and not all Japanese, probably come to see the Japanese castles, Japanese have castles?

I’m not sure if they do have castles, but they do have a foot in Africa, whereas the Iti’s have a boot in Europe. A recent visit from Kenya’s William Ruto to reciprocate last year’s trip to Japan-land secures bilateral expansion and co-operation to the tune of Japanese food aid to 15 African nations and a healthy defence agreement. Kenya is bored of their debt to China, so they’ve taken to implement independence by procuring an alternative debt in different coloured money to a different beast.

Keeping in defence, it is the 2^nd edition of the World Defence Show in Riyadh. 100,000 visitors with 750 companies from 75 countries spending approx. $8bn. The theme, ‘Equipment for Tomorrow.’

Iran, China and Russia are on joint naval exercises to improve their regional security. Iranian Rear Admiral Sharan Irani (handy name, like Johnny English) said… Oh, I don’t know what he said now, can’t get Johnny Irani out of my head… it’ll come to me

Let’s go to Switzerland where official languages are French, German, Italian and Romansh (who?). But now English is sneaking in to a small town in canton Zug. A small town called Walachia of 4000 has now 27% English speakers thanks to expats buying desirable property over looking Lake Zug. A rising 75% young folks between 15-24 use English as their first language. What about the Romanshi?

Meantime, grrr, and lastly, Mexico has officially overtaken China to become the biggest exporter of goods to the US. Imports rose almost 5% while China’s dropped by 20%. Now, what was that about Johnny Iran on weed exercises up the rear.

Tha tha that’s all folks

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