Back to the old routine

It was my first day back in work. Apparently, they”d worked on as normal through the Tsunami warning, good old Brits soldering through. Amazingly, I remembered all my passwords, something of a miracle. I checked my 400 odd emails, caught up with people and then it was hometime. And only two more weeks left. Not bad eh?

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How were we to know?

In all the drama, no-one had warned us about the cat. Probably, if we’d thought about it we should have known that she’d be groggy, given that she was put out for a bit (not put down as I kept saying by mistake, bit of a difference really) . The other one took her out of the cat box and she fell over. So commenced a night where in turns we laughed at, felt guilty, mollycoddled, babysat and doted on Minx as she lumbered about and fell over, poor thing. Still, we didn’t film it and put it on You Tube…being one small step away from animals do the funniest things, or whatever it’s called, and that’s a level I’m not willing to reach…

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Where did everyone go?

The other one had received a text and J had popped round to check if we’d heard about the Tsunami warning. Having cable TV at least we could watch it all on the news channels and were relatively nonplussed as far as our situation went, though fearful for those in Indonesia or its environs. We were more concerned about getting the phone call from the vets to pick up the cat, which eventually came mid afternoon, ‘hurry you need to get her in the next half hour’, they said. We motored over there, the receptionist just leaving, saying that the vet would be with us shortly. The place was deserted. The vet appeared with Minx, who was all shaven and clean, and explained that everyone had gone home because of the Tsunami warning, ‘really?’ we thought.  Maybe,we’d missed something, and we had, the government had told everyone to knock off early just in case, and not being in work, we’d avoided the mild hysteria that gripped Victoria that afternoon. There we’d been at home, the other one strumming his guitar, me reading my book, wondering how the cat was doing, and knowing everything about the Tsunami from the TV, without having an actual clue what it actually meant for us in Seychelles. Connected to the world and no idea what’s going on –  must be like being a member of the Conservative Party.

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Scabby cat

doing hard time

I thought nothing of the scrape Minx had on her back, I thought she’d been in a fight, but it seemed to get bigger and scratching away at it, she was losing her fur and making it redder and more sore. Then it looked like she was developing the same on her front, underneath her chin. Next, we found out that J’s son had a fungal infection, which could also explain the irritated patches that the other one had…a trip to the doctor and a phone call to the vet and we thought diagnosis: ringworm! This being Seychelles, the pet shop (don’t you just love that there’s one of everything: the pet shop, the hotel shop, the post office etc etc) didn’t have any cream for cats and the vet assured us that what’s fit for humans is good for the cat, and well we had no choice.

After a few days, the other one was getting better, J’s son was getting better, but Minxie’s back had a horrible scab and we had no idea if that meant it was getting better or worse…Given that the other one was on hols and the vet is only open during the week, we thought it prudent to take her to the vet.

We borrowed a cat box from ‘S’ and I sat in the back with Minx, feeling like the jailer and the executioner as she looked at me with her big cat eyes, cowering and crying the whole way. Thankfully, it took only 25 minutes to get there and as soon we got her out of the car she was ok, which was good as there were only a load of dog owners there and I know I wouldn’t have been able to help myself but talk stupidly to the cat if she’d been upset. As it was, I occasionally enquired as to how she was feeling, but she didn’t reply. I think she was too scared to take her attention off the dogs.

After about an hour, it was our turn and we took her in, failing the first cat owner test question of how old she was – 3? 4? we had no idea. The vet didn’t think it was ringworm as they didn’t have it in Seychelles she seemed to think. She said she’d clean her up, give her antibiotics and see how it went from from there. We had to leave her as they were going to put her out while they did it, which I hadn’t been expecting. We left with instructions to pick her up later, waving goodbye to the cat. She didn’t wave back.

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Italian Cafe!

you won’t be able to see the cafe from here

Exciting times for Victoria – a brand new cafe! Given that the only choice has ever been Pirates (great for draught beer and cheap meals, lousy for coffee, cake and snacks) and News Cafe (good for coffee, expensive for snacks – 100 SCR for a panini- and rubbish for service), this has made meeting and having coffee in Victoria a real possibility (although, not a great place to go if you want to avoid people as already mentioned). It’s very easy to miss being in the row of squat shops on the right hand side of market street leading from the pelican crossing to Selwyn Selwyn market, and it doesn’t help that I don’t know its name, but it does have a sandwich board thing outside.

Inside, its clean and white, with funky tables and chairs,  a small bar at the back, a counter selling paninis and cake, and also a range of italian ice creams. I had a cappuccino and a ciabatta – though I can’t remember what it was- and a lime drink, which was very refreshing. The other one also had coffee, bacon and omelette ciabatta (why can I remember his, pray tell?), and altogether it was about 200 SCR, so not bad. It also has a couple of internet terminals in there. I’d recommend it, and the ice creams – I’m saving as treat. I’ve just got rid of one belly, too early to replace it with another.

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The Post Office

The Post Office had really been very good. All six of the books I ordered had arrived (from Book Depository – free delivery to Seychelles v good)  as had the various parcels sent. But then the other one received a slip at school to say a parcel had arrived and he went to get it and it wasn’t there. He went again a few days later and same story it wasn’t there. We both went, I explained the situation and the guy went to have a look, and he returned and said it wasn’t there. I think we all realised it apparently wasn’t there, but doing something about it seemed not to have crossed his mind. He couldn’t find the parcel. End of story. Initiative 0. Customer Service 0. Could they tell me who had sent the parcel? No. Where could it have gone? Don’t know. Have they looked really hard? Who the hell knows?… Was there someone else in charge? There was and she made a photocopy of our slip, took a number and promised to call. She didn’t. A week later we went in again. Their response? She’s still looking for it.

By god, let’s hope its not my Stone Roses tickets they’ve lost.

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Of all the people…

Most of my recovery was spent inside. The other one had the car, we live way up a hill, and so there was me and the cat, and a few visitors who very kindly came to visit. I didn’t mind at all, and in fact I think I’d make quite a good hermit, basically you’re never far from food, drink, TV, books and bed. What’s not to like?

Anyway, after nearly another week had passed since the excitement of having a haircut and lunch on one day, I ventured into Victoria with the other one. I was reminded of the daily frustrations that can come from living here (more on that later) and we decided to recover and refresh ourselves at a new cafe that had opened in town (more on that later too). Standing outside what I thought might be the cafe, the door swung open and a bright and breezy hello was offered to me – from the boss’ wife. Of all the people…. It got better, ‘guess who I’m meeting for lunch, we hardly ever get to meet, he’s in the back’ she said. Yup, the boss. My second visit in town since the operation, of all the people…

I shuffled in, and there he was, and there the other one and I spent 20 minutes chatting away. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with the boss, I just felt totally bogus. I was at the end of week three of my six week sick leave, and I was still sore, but I didn’t look awfully ill. And never having had more than one day sick in my life, I felt guilty, that I should for his benefit be looking really really rough. As it was he said, I looked very well. That had me pecking the other one’s head all the way home – what to you think he meant by that? Do you think , he thinks I’m not really ill? blah blah blah blah.

Being a hermit really does make life simpler. The other one seemed quite an advocate too – of me being one that is, not him.

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