Sunday, 14 March 2010
Recently I have been having a series of compelling conversations with a somewhat-mature (okay, older) man about a daydream we both-- quite innocently-- discovered we share. I do not remember which of us brought it up first, but it's gone on some three nights or so now and finally I mentioned the gist of it to my parents.
Of course anyone knows I do not chat about anything inappropriate. It's not that kind of daydream! But I do often indulge people's imaginations, like to say, 'If you could live anywhere, where would you live?' --or 'If you could do any job, what would you do?' --and then, of course, ask why. And that evolves into a sensible, interesting discussion. (It's certainly more respectable than asking, 'If you could touch me anywhere, where would you touch me first?' --right? I mean I really don't need to know THAT kind of daydream from anyone!)
The daydream we discussed was about finding a private tropical island somewhere and then what one's life would be like if he or she had the opportunity to live there. I learned that a woman's fantasy about that is very different from a man's. For one thing, the man dreams of having some shack that requires no maintenance at all, a lazy man's retreat, if you will. Most men would probably like to avoid all forms of work, like home maintenance, personal hygiene, laundry, shaving, and so on. Also, a man would probably like to go fishing all day long, whenever he wants to. And, of course, he dreams of having some beautiful young (female) thing there to share it all with.
As a woman I dream of having some small but beautiful house for which I don't have to do all the work (that's the fantasy part). I don't like fishing and would rather eat fruit, or cultivate an orchard like we had at Lewes, and just pick whatever I want to eat whenever I want to eat it. I think that walking, swimming, and climbing trees along with a mostly-fruit diet would probably keep me strong and slender. I'm pretty sure I would shave at least as much as I do now, and I cannot abide my hair at all once it's been a day or two since a good shampooing. But as far as laundry is concerned I think I would be pretty happy with not having to worry about any of it (beyond what nature makes absolutely necessary for a week or so each month of course).
And just maybe, if he were the right choice, I would like to have a special someone to share it all with.
My friend online actually looked up 'Islands for sale' under Google and discovered a whole web site from some estate agents in Belize advertising about a dozen whole islands as well as parcels on slightly-larger islands. The islands are mostly small-- under 15 acres. Once I saw a few pictures of them I was infatuated and browsed them all till very late one night. I decided upon Harbour Cay. It's five acres and is for sale at $550,000. Honestly.
Harbour Cay has a natural lagoon, sheltered on almost four sides, about 6 or 7 feet deep. The whole island is to the north of the lagoon with only a narrow spit south of it, and the entrance to the west-southwest makes it perfect for sheltering a yacht in a hurricane. The interior is lovely, all soft green grass populated by small trees that have grown back since the last time some dreamer cleared it and left off the project. The advert says it might need filling to be high enough above the tide levels, but if one were to dredge the lagoon to about 8 or 9 feet, to accommodate a decent sailboat, there would be enough from that to fill a building site quite well.
I studied it (for at least an hour into the night) and decided where I would put my house. Now, my house would not be a low-maintenance shack. It would be an elegant little low-maintenance pirate's retreat, the kind of place an 18th-century sea captain would retire to when he gave up his ship to settle down, full of Oriental carpets, tile fireplaces, wooden panelling, mahogany furniture, and all (much like a small version of this house, and simpler). It would be of block, like this house is, with the local sand providing about half the concrete ingredients. It would have a three- or four-storey tower surrounded by lower wings, two bedrooms on the second floor, a ballroom, dining room and small parlour on the first, a semidetached kitchen and pantry, and then at the end of a long cloister bridge, a guest room. The first storey would be about 6 feet off the ground in case of flooding. Across the lagoon there is a knob of land jutting out where I would have another tower, only two storeys, with a guest room on the bottom floor, really just as a kind of landmark or lookout point as though to protect the harbour entrance.
That made me think of protection. Maybe, being a woman, I care more about this than some people might. But I can't imagine the southwestern Caribbean to be profoundly free of crime. I started thinking about black-powder guns mounted on the parapets of the towers, and then thought maybe just a good World War II machine gun. The problem would be in getting actual ammunition. I don't suppose World War II machine-gun bullets are very easy to come by even in Belize. This is why I fall back on my typically 18th-century idea of black powder. I just don't know how or where I would like to store it, since it's very volatile. (Daddy does not keep all of his in the house, only what will fit in the small safety niche he has in the kitchen fireplace stack. That's actually the traditional way of storing it at home.)
And then came the fateful storm on Saturday, when the power went out for five and a half hours, and (by candlelight, appropriately) I looked into Daddy's now-dated catalogue from that place in Ohio where all the Amish shop that's full of appliances that don't use electricity. (We got our kitchen stove there.) And I got to thinking, that my version of the tropical-island house has too many bathrooms and toilets that wouldn't really work. I mean-- where do you get water pressure to flush if the whole island is flat? And why do you need private bathrooms if the whole island is private? Wouldn't just one composting toilet, maybe in the basement, be good enough?
Anyway I did make the mistake of mentioning this idea to my dad, who immediately poured over the whole website and concluded, as I did, that Harbour Cay is the very plum of the whole selection, and for the same reasons I said. We then started drawing plans on his computer using the home-design programme he has (he designed this house with it). We ironed out a lot of the issues I had and came up with more problems and then solved those too. And then, of course, Daddy had to mention it at dinner.
'Five hundred thousand dollars,' he said. 'Empty lots in South Jersey cost more than that.'
Mother only shook her head, smiling. 'They're improved, dear,' she said. 'Where do we get water? --or power?'
'We make it,' he said, 'or we do without.' Then he and I ranted on about our ideas so far. This got Jessy and Lisa and even JJ all enthused about it and we all went on and on and on till someone, I don't remember which of us, realised that this wasn't such a kooky plan but could actually work. I mean-- Daddy has offshore savings accounts, and, as he said, Belize is as good a place as any to invest. It's politically stable, it's actually enjoying a pretty good investment market, it's got a temperate climate, it's mostly improved with power, cable TV, and Internet, it's full of North American necessities like natural gas, gasoline, fresh water supplies and sewage systems, everyone speaks English and the US dollar is taken everywhere. And Harbour Cay is hardly remote, only about five miles offshore and therefore within sight of a mainland boatyard. Theoretically we lived farther offshore than that when we lived at Long Beach Island!
Daddy said it would be cool to fly down and have a look at it. After all, if they know who he is, it's sure that they'll consider him seriously as a potential customer. Lots of retired rock musicians buy properties in the Caribbean. He could probably even get a good deal on it.
Then Mother said, 'Well, you can't blame me if I think it's a little nuts to just pack up and leave for some tropical island on a second's notice like this.'
We all sighed and looked at her. Mother is as much a daydreamer as anyone, but she's also too intelligent to give over all sense, you know. Daddy sighed too. 'I suppose you're right,' he said quietly.
'I mean,' Mother said, not quite looking up yet, 'I've put away all my swimsuits. You'd have to give me about twenty minutes.'
When she looked up we were all staring back at her with our mouths hanging open. I still have shivers in my spine from it.
...
Showing posts with label island. Show all posts
Showing posts with label island. Show all posts
15 March 2010
14 November 2009
Late-breaking news
Friday,13 November 2009
Well, our school was closed yesterday and today because of the storm. Our local bridge was washed-over, meaning that we can't leave this peninsula anyway. So we've been inside all day today and yesterday-- all six of us. Mother had a fire going in the kitchen and was singing merrily away as she made soup and corn muffins and hot tea and, later, brownies. She loves to be the provider of all good things, you know.
My period came, a week later than usual, which might be a concern to some girls but of course is not to me. I like what Mother calls the 'will of God method' --whatever He wants of me, I'll do; so if I'm to get it late I can tolerate that. I did dig into my drawers (the ones in my dresser!) and took out the silk panties I bought in England, the navy ones and dark-green ones and very pale pink ones. I have on the navy ones now-- they have a gathered waist and gathered legs but the silk is pretty loose in between, making them delightfully soft, almost sinfully comfortable. And at the moment I have on my warm navy-and-cream linen/wool Colonial dress and stays and a woolen cardigan and stockings with socks over them and am quite comfortable in spite of the circumstances.
Caleb phoned the other day from UMES asking if we could get together this weekend. The storm put those plans on hold! But this wouldn't be a fun weekend for either of us. Last weekend he was here for supper and we all played games like Apples To Apples and Trivial Pursuit. I am sure he wanted a repeat of the Hallowe'en party but there would be none of that then. I really think Jessy is right about that-- I'll say no more on it now.
Daddy was changing strings on one of the guitars the other day, in the parlour, where Mother would rather he didn't do something like that. As it turns out I found the broken end of one of the strings stuck in the carpet under the piano. That is-- I found it with the ball of my foot. It has started to go septic and Mother put this stuff on it that's supposed to loosen and withdraw splinters in the hope of getting out the dirt. I have on a big bandage because it hurts and throbs like mad and I have been hobbling round the house on my heel since. Mother kind of got mad about it all and issued Daddy a moratorium on changing strings outside the music room, which he sheepishly accepted. When I first impaled my foot on the string he actually carried me in to the kitchen for it to be treated. Then he carried me up and put me in this bed. I know he feels bad about it-- but then Mother chastised me for going round the house in November with bare feet, so I suppose we're both culpable.
I have used much of this time in bed with the computer to work on my novel, getting it ready. There is still a section in the middle of the end that I need to actually compose, and instead of writing that I find myself stuck editing parts that are already done. Today I began writing through the gap towards the end, and as it turns out I changed too much for the existing end to work. Now I have to decide which version I change to adapt both parts together. Daddy suggested I just write the whole segment over, like a new draught, and see how it flows into the ending. It could be the whole ending gets changed... or I just delete a lot of dialogue I happen to like in order to keep continuity.
The storm continues outside. We were without power from late last night till early this afternoon-- that is, our generator kicked on, which doesn't power everything in the house, just the refrigerators and a few lights and so on (and the AirPort for the computers), but we could see that the hamlet in front of us was out and the whole road was dark. It's just more reason to stay inside. The wind has been howling, on and off, and since this is blowing off the ocean we have a startling high tide battering against our seawall and parts of the lawn are flooded. Fortunately the window in the tower that leaked last year is holding now. Jessy has all her inside shutters closed-- she tries to hide from it and pretend it's not there. I had mine open for a while but the rain and wind bashing against the windows was so scary I really feared the glass would give way, so I have only the bathroom one open now. And I have a nice little fire, and a small pot of tea. So I am content.
I will provide more details as I am moved to!
* * *
Well, our school was closed yesterday and today because of the storm. Our local bridge was washed-over, meaning that we can't leave this peninsula anyway. So we've been inside all day today and yesterday-- all six of us. Mother had a fire going in the kitchen and was singing merrily away as she made soup and corn muffins and hot tea and, later, brownies. She loves to be the provider of all good things, you know.
My period came, a week later than usual, which might be a concern to some girls but of course is not to me. I like what Mother calls the 'will of God method' --whatever He wants of me, I'll do; so if I'm to get it late I can tolerate that. I did dig into my drawers (the ones in my dresser!) and took out the silk panties I bought in England, the navy ones and dark-green ones and very pale pink ones. I have on the navy ones now-- they have a gathered waist and gathered legs but the silk is pretty loose in between, making them delightfully soft, almost sinfully comfortable. And at the moment I have on my warm navy-and-cream linen/wool Colonial dress and stays and a woolen cardigan and stockings with socks over them and am quite comfortable in spite of the circumstances.
Caleb phoned the other day from UMES asking if we could get together this weekend. The storm put those plans on hold! But this wouldn't be a fun weekend for either of us. Last weekend he was here for supper and we all played games like Apples To Apples and Trivial Pursuit. I am sure he wanted a repeat of the Hallowe'en party but there would be none of that then. I really think Jessy is right about that-- I'll say no more on it now.
Daddy was changing strings on one of the guitars the other day, in the parlour, where Mother would rather he didn't do something like that. As it turns out I found the broken end of one of the strings stuck in the carpet under the piano. That is-- I found it with the ball of my foot. It has started to go septic and Mother put this stuff on it that's supposed to loosen and withdraw splinters in the hope of getting out the dirt. I have on a big bandage because it hurts and throbs like mad and I have been hobbling round the house on my heel since. Mother kind of got mad about it all and issued Daddy a moratorium on changing strings outside the music room, which he sheepishly accepted. When I first impaled my foot on the string he actually carried me in to the kitchen for it to be treated. Then he carried me up and put me in this bed. I know he feels bad about it-- but then Mother chastised me for going round the house in November with bare feet, so I suppose we're both culpable.
I have used much of this time in bed with the computer to work on my novel, getting it ready. There is still a section in the middle of the end that I need to actually compose, and instead of writing that I find myself stuck editing parts that are already done. Today I began writing through the gap towards the end, and as it turns out I changed too much for the existing end to work. Now I have to decide which version I change to adapt both parts together. Daddy suggested I just write the whole segment over, like a new draught, and see how it flows into the ending. It could be the whole ending gets changed... or I just delete a lot of dialogue I happen to like in order to keep continuity.
The storm continues outside. We were without power from late last night till early this afternoon-- that is, our generator kicked on, which doesn't power everything in the house, just the refrigerators and a few lights and so on (and the AirPort for the computers), but we could see that the hamlet in front of us was out and the whole road was dark. It's just more reason to stay inside. The wind has been howling, on and off, and since this is blowing off the ocean we have a startling high tide battering against our seawall and parts of the lawn are flooded. Fortunately the window in the tower that leaked last year is holding now. Jessy has all her inside shutters closed-- she tries to hide from it and pretend it's not there. I had mine open for a while but the rain and wind bashing against the windows was so scary I really feared the glass would give way, so I have only the bathroom one open now. And I have a nice little fire, and a small pot of tea. So I am content.
I will provide more details as I am moved to!
* * *
03 August 2009
Janine's final faux pas
Monday 3 August 2009
This morning Jessy and I were on the beach, just having a nice long walk as a kind of farewell to the whole place, you know. I had on my blue-and-white-and-grey-print swimsuit, which is kind of new, and Jessy had the deep purple/maroon-coloured one, a beautifully rich colour that really looks good on her figure and suntan. We walked up about three jetties and turned round to come back. The place was utterly crowded, people everywhere, skimboarding, boogie-boarding, rafting, swimming, diving, running, jumping, and always the squealing, giggling, laughing, shrieking that makes a public beach at a popular resort town what it really is. You don't go here to be alone, and you don't go here to be anonymous.
We were almost back to the house and had begun thinking about turning up into the softer sand when we noticed a man standing directly ahead of us, turned towards the water but with his head turned to stare straight at us. I guess it is not unusual to expect that some middle-aged guy would stare at two chicks in bikinis at the beach. I mean really-- it happens all the time, you know, and I know I don't have to be an absolute goddess to get this kind of attention. It just happens. It's what Daddy calls 'sexual discrimination'-- that a member of one sex can discriminate between the sexes and recognise a member of the other sex. It'd be a pretty barren world if he didn't!
So this guy was staring straight at us like he recognised us, and not just as a pair of female bodies, you know. I was on Jessy's right, closer to the house, and right before I started to step up into the soft sand the guy put out his hand, waving to us. I hesitated-- I wouldn't be rude, you know. Was this some friend of Daddy's who knew us?
'Hello!' he called, when we were about five yards away. At that point there was no escaping this. We slowed down and had almost stopped and the guy turned to us and said, 'It's really you, then, isn't it?'
'What?' we both said together.
He smiled at us, me especially. 'Janine, right?'
I went red. How would he know--?
'And you must be Jessy. I see what you meant, Janine. She is beautiful. But you're no less-- in spite of whatever you say. You don't disappoint, that's for sure.'
And he was checking me out then-- head to toe and back again. I frowned. 'I'm sorry--'
Then he made this frighteningly smug smile. 'Janine, it's R---.' And he gave his name. He's one of the guys I have been chatting with on AOL.
I suppose this was inevitable. I mean, I put enough information out there that anyone could find me if he just thought about it hard enough. It's because I'm not really hiding. But neither do I expect to be stalked, you know.
'I was by the ice-cream parlour. The other day... they said you weren't scheduled.'
I nodded. 'I'm not.'
'I was hoping to see you in your Colonial costume.'
'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I'm.... We're going home. Today.'
'Ohhh. And I thought we could spend some time, get to know each other at last.'
I swallowed. No, I thought. There are guys I chat with online whom I like a lot-- this was not one of them. In fact this guy is someone I tend to avoid... now I presume I shall have to block him.
'I was standing here, trying to pick out which is your house,' he said, and he turned round and looked up at the houses along the dune line, four to a block. 'I have it narrowed down to... that one, that one, and that one down there. They're three storeys.'
Two of the ones he picked were ours and the one we own next to it, to rent out. I felt terrible. Have I really got so sloppy after all? The one blessing from God was that we were leaving this afternoon. 'Well, R---, I really need to be going-- we have a long ride coming up--'
'So you're going back to Virginia? Is it far? I think you said four hours.'
Great. Will he follow us? Jessy turned and took my hand then. 'Janine,' she said softly, 'let's go.'
I nodded, allowing her to step between R--- and me, tugging me up the beach. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'We're really pressed for time--'
'But you can have a walk on the beach, then?' he said, and then turned and took a few steps after us.
I realised though that he was watching some small children and couldn't easily just leave. That was lucky. 'I'm sorry, R---. Some other time maybe.'
He would still talk at me as I walked away. 'Really, after all this time.... I just kind of thought that--'
But we were gone then. Jessy still held my hand-- in fact now she squeezed it. 'Is he still behind us?' I worried.
'I don't know,' she said, closing her teeth together. 'And I don't care.'
I nodded. 'I'm sorry.' I glanced over my shoulder. The guy was still standing there, staring up the beach at us. Jessy was heading straight for our house. That's all I would need. 'He's still there,' I said.
She clenched my hand more tightly. 'Explanation?'
That was not a request-- it was a demand. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'It's the blog. I just say things, you know. No one's ever got that close--'
'That guy has probably been here all summer waiting to recognise you,' she said. 'He'll know the house now, see your car, everything.'
'We'll we're going to Virginia in about three hours!'
'You'd better not give out that address too.'
'I don't!'
'And pictures?'
I squeezed her hand then. 'Jessy! I have never sent out my picture! You have more people stalking you on FaceBook than I have on AOL!.'
She shrugged. 'Well, that's FaceBook. It's private.'
'Not so private when you let friends of friends of friends be friends.'
She made a wry face. When we were over the dune we ran for the kitchen door, had quick showers in the garage, and ran up stairs to the third floor, where we crouched in the low attic that is Lisa's and J.J.'s room and peered out the little window. Sure enough, we made him out-- he was there, only not looking up at the house. 'We're not going to be able to show our faces round here ever again,' I said.
'We're going to England. And you're going to block him, and then delete all the posts that identify this place.'
'Yes, Jessy.'
I wonder if that means this one now!
...
This morning Jessy and I were on the beach, just having a nice long walk as a kind of farewell to the whole place, you know. I had on my blue-and-white-and-grey-print swimsuit, which is kind of new, and Jessy had the deep purple/maroon-coloured one, a beautifully rich colour that really looks good on her figure and suntan. We walked up about three jetties and turned round to come back. The place was utterly crowded, people everywhere, skimboarding, boogie-boarding, rafting, swimming, diving, running, jumping, and always the squealing, giggling, laughing, shrieking that makes a public beach at a popular resort town what it really is. You don't go here to be alone, and you don't go here to be anonymous.
We were almost back to the house and had begun thinking about turning up into the softer sand when we noticed a man standing directly ahead of us, turned towards the water but with his head turned to stare straight at us. I guess it is not unusual to expect that some middle-aged guy would stare at two chicks in bikinis at the beach. I mean really-- it happens all the time, you know, and I know I don't have to be an absolute goddess to get this kind of attention. It just happens. It's what Daddy calls 'sexual discrimination'-- that a member of one sex can discriminate between the sexes and recognise a member of the other sex. It'd be a pretty barren world if he didn't!
So this guy was staring straight at us like he recognised us, and not just as a pair of female bodies, you know. I was on Jessy's right, closer to the house, and right before I started to step up into the soft sand the guy put out his hand, waving to us. I hesitated-- I wouldn't be rude, you know. Was this some friend of Daddy's who knew us?
'Hello!' he called, when we were about five yards away. At that point there was no escaping this. We slowed down and had almost stopped and the guy turned to us and said, 'It's really you, then, isn't it?'
'What?' we both said together.
He smiled at us, me especially. 'Janine, right?'
I went red. How would he know--?
'And you must be Jessy. I see what you meant, Janine. She is beautiful. But you're no less-- in spite of whatever you say. You don't disappoint, that's for sure.'
And he was checking me out then-- head to toe and back again. I frowned. 'I'm sorry--'
Then he made this frighteningly smug smile. 'Janine, it's R---.' And he gave his name. He's one of the guys I have been chatting with on AOL.
I suppose this was inevitable. I mean, I put enough information out there that anyone could find me if he just thought about it hard enough. It's because I'm not really hiding. But neither do I expect to be stalked, you know.
'I was by the ice-cream parlour. The other day... they said you weren't scheduled.'
I nodded. 'I'm not.'
'I was hoping to see you in your Colonial costume.'
'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I'm.... We're going home. Today.'
'Ohhh. And I thought we could spend some time, get to know each other at last.'
I swallowed. No, I thought. There are guys I chat with online whom I like a lot-- this was not one of them. In fact this guy is someone I tend to avoid... now I presume I shall have to block him.
'I was standing here, trying to pick out which is your house,' he said, and he turned round and looked up at the houses along the dune line, four to a block. 'I have it narrowed down to... that one, that one, and that one down there. They're three storeys.'
Two of the ones he picked were ours and the one we own next to it, to rent out. I felt terrible. Have I really got so sloppy after all? The one blessing from God was that we were leaving this afternoon. 'Well, R---, I really need to be going-- we have a long ride coming up--'
'So you're going back to Virginia? Is it far? I think you said four hours.'
Great. Will he follow us? Jessy turned and took my hand then. 'Janine,' she said softly, 'let's go.'
I nodded, allowing her to step between R--- and me, tugging me up the beach. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'We're really pressed for time--'
'But you can have a walk on the beach, then?' he said, and then turned and took a few steps after us.
I realised though that he was watching some small children and couldn't easily just leave. That was lucky. 'I'm sorry, R---. Some other time maybe.'
He would still talk at me as I walked away. 'Really, after all this time.... I just kind of thought that--'
But we were gone then. Jessy still held my hand-- in fact now she squeezed it. 'Is he still behind us?' I worried.
'I don't know,' she said, closing her teeth together. 'And I don't care.'
I nodded. 'I'm sorry.' I glanced over my shoulder. The guy was still standing there, staring up the beach at us. Jessy was heading straight for our house. That's all I would need. 'He's still there,' I said.
She clenched my hand more tightly. 'Explanation?'
That was not a request-- it was a demand. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'It's the blog. I just say things, you know. No one's ever got that close--'
'That guy has probably been here all summer waiting to recognise you,' she said. 'He'll know the house now, see your car, everything.'
'We'll we're going to Virginia in about three hours!'
'You'd better not give out that address too.'
'I don't!'
'And pictures?'
I squeezed her hand then. 'Jessy! I have never sent out my picture! You have more people stalking you on FaceBook than I have on AOL!.'
She shrugged. 'Well, that's FaceBook. It's private.'
'Not so private when you let friends of friends of friends be friends.'
She made a wry face. When we were over the dune we ran for the kitchen door, had quick showers in the garage, and ran up stairs to the third floor, where we crouched in the low attic that is Lisa's and J.J.'s room and peered out the little window. Sure enough, we made him out-- he was there, only not looking up at the house. 'We're not going to be able to show our faces round here ever again,' I said.
'We're going to England. And you're going to block him, and then delete all the posts that identify this place.'
'Yes, Jessy.'
I wonder if that means this one now!
...
One thing and then another
or, How my family does a beach house party
Sunday 2 August 2009
We attended Holy Innocents' this morning, but they do not know us so well here (in spite of Daddy having given them so much money over the years-- mostly anonymously), so they did not know to announce Lisa's 6th birthday. We did inform the rector in the receiving line and she was very pleased and proud to be congratulated one this milestone. She has lived 17 percent of her whole life since this time last year, when we were just arrived from England. When we moved in to the house in Virginia Lisa had only fuzzy memories of having lived in the US at all. She still bears that cute accent, though it is not so much from having gone to nursery school and Sunday school with other children in England as it is because her mother is Anglo-Australian, one of the scant minority native to Australia but of English and Protestant ancestry. Mother has only a hint of an Australian accent-- she sounds more like she is from East Anglia, where we stayed for two years, and little Lisa talks a lot like her mummy does.
People began arriving at about 3.00 or 4.00. I had a shower and dressed at about 3.30-- the day was nasty with clouds and thundershowers till about then and I had been inside, on the computer and not exactly dressed (okay, stark-naked), the closest I ever am to actually being bored. Then the house filled up. We eventually were able to move most of the party out to the deck. There was Daddy's uncle and aunt, having come up from their place down the Island. There was Gran, of course, and Daddy's brother and his family. There was Mother's dear best friend, having come up on the Ferry from Delaware, with her fiance, just for the occasion. Three of the girls from the ice-cream shop who were free came by. And Jessy's friends, Claire, Scotia and Edie, made sure to wander in round 5.00. Also Edie's mother showed up-- not so much out of some parental protection, to watch over her daughter at this party full of beer and wine and loud jokes and live music, of course, but because she carries something of a crush on Daddy, of whom she has been a fan these twenty-odd years or more now. Needless to say Daddy was in his element, telling funny stories, mugging with his family for the camera, serving up more food and drink to everyone than they wanted and making sure no one felt left-out. So I think Edie's mother had a really good time.
Mother (our stepmother) may be the most natural party-hoster next to Daddy. I remember my own mother was very good at it, preparing everything to the very highest standard and then presiding over the festivities-- that is to say, being a charming and gracious hostess who never let anyone down-- always with a smile and a hug and kiss for everyone. She was just like that naturally, and from having known her and learnt from her, our stepmother follows that example. Only Mother, being young in age and even younger at heart, is far more casual. For example, she rang the deli for a tray of food, and the bakery did the cake for the party. (She made a lovely homemade cake-- from scratch-- last night for our immediate-family celebration. She wouldn't dare not make one herself.) She wore a very pretty royal-blue bikini with a blue-and-white wrap-skirt draped round her hips, with her hair up and high-heeled shoes (okay, Easy-Walkers). This is remarkable because she is young and looks it, in spite of having borne two children, and of course she is very beautiful, and especially because she is... shall I say... well-endowed. She has the perfect figure for a bikini and always has had-- I do not mean she is anything other than pleasantly proportioned. And she wears the shoes really because of being so short. But I really think no one could overlook her at any party no matter what people are wearing. She just seems to exude sweetness and hospitality.
Of course Lisa takes after her as much as she takes after Jessy and me too. She wanted to wear a swimsuit and heels too, though of course she does not own any shoes with heels and discovered with near-tearful lament that both her swimsuits here were damp in the basket for the washing. Jessy soothed her-- I might have guessed-- and next she appeared, for her own birthday, in front of family and friends, everyone but J.J. being quite older than she is, in-- you guessed it-- the bandanna bikini. She absolutely loves it, you know. Jessy did fit her with another bandanna tied round her ribs as a top, and then did her hair up on her head like she was going to a prom, and everyone raved over how 'native' she looked even whilst she looked like a princess.
The bandanna bikini top didn't last all night, but she is six and no one really cared. I have to admit I thought she was even cuter with it off... bikini tops on little girls just seem so pretentious to me somehow!
I have to confess that by the time I was done playing piano and singing and crooning along with whoever else played, I had had about three full glasses of wine and was in no condition to be very gracious or hospitable to anyone. Fortunately Edie's mother did not notice. Scotia did, teased me about it, and then slyly asked me where the wine was. I made a face at her and pranced (okay, staggered) away from her. Fortunately Jessy is no drinker and would not enable her friends to either. But I was disappointed in Scotia-- she's younger than Jessy, having only turned 15 this June, and very cute... but what makes someone like that ask for a glass of wine at someone else's party? And what do we know of her history with it? I've had wine at the table since I was much younger than she is now, and so what if I have three glasses at one party? I don't have to defend my sense or propriety to someone who just wants to drink so she can say later that she was drinking.
Oh, sorry-- this is not the kind of thing I should write about before a good night's sleep, you know.
Anyway this party served as kind of a sendoff for Jessy and me, since we leave tomorrow for Virginia and will not be back here in New Jersey till nearly Labor Day. I have enjoyed it all, even though I have missed my friends at home, and missed Stephen (more on that later) and missed out on a few somewhat important events that were at the end of a four-hour drive because of having to work here that evening or the morning after, you know. I love this house and love this whole town, and the beach here is like no other in the world. But England calls, and I will heed that call. This time next week I will be five time zones away. And there will be friends there too.
There is a bit of wine left in this glass. I drink to the summer, well-spent.
...
Sunday 2 August 2009
We attended Holy Innocents' this morning, but they do not know us so well here (in spite of Daddy having given them so much money over the years-- mostly anonymously), so they did not know to announce Lisa's 6th birthday. We did inform the rector in the receiving line and she was very pleased and proud to be congratulated one this milestone. She has lived 17 percent of her whole life since this time last year, when we were just arrived from England. When we moved in to the house in Virginia Lisa had only fuzzy memories of having lived in the US at all. She still bears that cute accent, though it is not so much from having gone to nursery school and Sunday school with other children in England as it is because her mother is Anglo-Australian, one of the scant minority native to Australia but of English and Protestant ancestry. Mother has only a hint of an Australian accent-- she sounds more like she is from East Anglia, where we stayed for two years, and little Lisa talks a lot like her mummy does.
People began arriving at about 3.00 or 4.00. I had a shower and dressed at about 3.30-- the day was nasty with clouds and thundershowers till about then and I had been inside, on the computer and not exactly dressed (okay, stark-naked), the closest I ever am to actually being bored. Then the house filled up. We eventually were able to move most of the party out to the deck. There was Daddy's uncle and aunt, having come up from their place down the Island. There was Gran, of course, and Daddy's brother and his family. There was Mother's dear best friend, having come up on the Ferry from Delaware, with her fiance, just for the occasion. Three of the girls from the ice-cream shop who were free came by. And Jessy's friends, Claire, Scotia and Edie, made sure to wander in round 5.00. Also Edie's mother showed up-- not so much out of some parental protection, to watch over her daughter at this party full of beer and wine and loud jokes and live music, of course, but because she carries something of a crush on Daddy, of whom she has been a fan these twenty-odd years or more now. Needless to say Daddy was in his element, telling funny stories, mugging with his family for the camera, serving up more food and drink to everyone than they wanted and making sure no one felt left-out. So I think Edie's mother had a really good time.
Mother (our stepmother) may be the most natural party-hoster next to Daddy. I remember my own mother was very good at it, preparing everything to the very highest standard and then presiding over the festivities-- that is to say, being a charming and gracious hostess who never let anyone down-- always with a smile and a hug and kiss for everyone. She was just like that naturally, and from having known her and learnt from her, our stepmother follows that example. Only Mother, being young in age and even younger at heart, is far more casual. For example, she rang the deli for a tray of food, and the bakery did the cake for the party. (She made a lovely homemade cake-- from scratch-- last night for our immediate-family celebration. She wouldn't dare not make one herself.) She wore a very pretty royal-blue bikini with a blue-and-white wrap-skirt draped round her hips, with her hair up and high-heeled shoes (okay, Easy-Walkers). This is remarkable because she is young and looks it, in spite of having borne two children, and of course she is very beautiful, and especially because she is... shall I say... well-endowed. She has the perfect figure for a bikini and always has had-- I do not mean she is anything other than pleasantly proportioned. And she wears the shoes really because of being so short. But I really think no one could overlook her at any party no matter what people are wearing. She just seems to exude sweetness and hospitality.
Of course Lisa takes after her as much as she takes after Jessy and me too. She wanted to wear a swimsuit and heels too, though of course she does not own any shoes with heels and discovered with near-tearful lament that both her swimsuits here were damp in the basket for the washing. Jessy soothed her-- I might have guessed-- and next she appeared, for her own birthday, in front of family and friends, everyone but J.J. being quite older than she is, in-- you guessed it-- the bandanna bikini. She absolutely loves it, you know. Jessy did fit her with another bandanna tied round her ribs as a top, and then did her hair up on her head like she was going to a prom, and everyone raved over how 'native' she looked even whilst she looked like a princess.
The bandanna bikini top didn't last all night, but she is six and no one really cared. I have to admit I thought she was even cuter with it off... bikini tops on little girls just seem so pretentious to me somehow!
I have to confess that by the time I was done playing piano and singing and crooning along with whoever else played, I had had about three full glasses of wine and was in no condition to be very gracious or hospitable to anyone. Fortunately Edie's mother did not notice. Scotia did, teased me about it, and then slyly asked me where the wine was. I made a face at her and pranced (okay, staggered) away from her. Fortunately Jessy is no drinker and would not enable her friends to either. But I was disappointed in Scotia-- she's younger than Jessy, having only turned 15 this June, and very cute... but what makes someone like that ask for a glass of wine at someone else's party? And what do we know of her history with it? I've had wine at the table since I was much younger than she is now, and so what if I have three glasses at one party? I don't have to defend my sense or propriety to someone who just wants to drink so she can say later that she was drinking.
Oh, sorry-- this is not the kind of thing I should write about before a good night's sleep, you know.
Anyway this party served as kind of a sendoff for Jessy and me, since we leave tomorrow for Virginia and will not be back here in New Jersey till nearly Labor Day. I have enjoyed it all, even though I have missed my friends at home, and missed Stephen (more on that later) and missed out on a few somewhat important events that were at the end of a four-hour drive because of having to work here that evening or the morning after, you know. I love this house and love this whole town, and the beach here is like no other in the world. But England calls, and I will heed that call. This time next week I will be five time zones away. And there will be friends there too.
There is a bit of wine left in this glass. I drink to the summer, well-spent.
...
26 July 2009
The mother of all thunderstorms
Sunday 26 July 2009-- NJ shore
The mother of all thunderstorms is about to descend upon us. I sit here in my little attic room, facing west-- away from the ocean-- with scarcely a breeze to move the sweat on my skin. The weather has come round to the Northeast-- it's the side this house is exposed to least. I worked this morning and after the beach I had a shower, so I was clean about an hour ago, but in this intense humidity and stillness that's of little help now. Jessy has been a good angel, playing with J.J. and Lisa since Mother and Daddy went out to dinner. They've been gone a while, so they've gone somewhere else too. This is Sunday evening so the traffic coming back up from Beach Haven will be a nightmare. They probably elected to stay down there, doing shopping or something, till later, which is wise. It's not like we don't have it under control here.
She made them a microwave pizza and they've been sitting down watching 'Mulan' in the TV room, Last I went down, for more iced tea, little J.J. was sitting at his small table surrounded by Transformers half acting out scenes of the movie with them. Lisa was stretched out on the carpet, stark naked, against her fluffy floor pillow, like a miniature princess. This is Jessy's influence-- I always say so. Jessy loves being pampered, even if she has to pamper herself. She's a bit frustrated still having to be in panties till tomorrow, but you can tell what she'd be wearing if she could be and she's such a good-natured little angel that it's hardly a hassle to her really.
I am clear now and haven't put anything on after the shower. I went round down there checking windows-- an odd thing to do with no clothes on! --but Jessy had them all closed and the draperies drawn on the beach side. It's because of the storm. Peering out I saw sand blowing round. The beach is entirely empty and the sky is gone threateningly dark. I will be glad for this storm because it should cool us off after two extremely hot days... but it is scary to see in its early stages and the little ones were upset with the sight of it.
Thunder rolls hard out at sea. The whole house rumbles with it. If we lose power the AirPort will still work, as will the security system and that whole computer network, but the little ones will lose the TV in the TV room as the generator doesn't carry all the outlets here. I was thinking of having something to eat but won't risk it till I know it's passed. I wonder why Mother has not called yet-- I wonder if they do not see this storm as it looks up here. They may only be in the restaurant. Jessy and I were to go to a party tonight but it sure looks like it won't be on. I wouldn't go there and linger round a hot sweaty house with too many idiots drinking too much for anything in the world.
Mother rang Jessy-- I have had the news of it. They just got to the car and will come up the Island directly. Daddy took her out in the old Buick-- the '65 convertible. It's funny-- in those wide bucket seats they sit about three feet apart! Petite Mother looks like a little girl! But the hood is new and they won't have leaks (like in the other one) though they have no AC in that car and will be sweating rivulets when the arrive! Jessy and I will put the little ones into the bath (one at a time now, for Lisa will not share with her brother any more) and cool them off. Mother will have a good long soak in her own. Daddy will check all the windows and phone half the people he knows out of worry-- it's what he does. I will stay up in my room naked and sweating. And chat online if I can.
...
The mother of all thunderstorms is about to descend upon us. I sit here in my little attic room, facing west-- away from the ocean-- with scarcely a breeze to move the sweat on my skin. The weather has come round to the Northeast-- it's the side this house is exposed to least. I worked this morning and after the beach I had a shower, so I was clean about an hour ago, but in this intense humidity and stillness that's of little help now. Jessy has been a good angel, playing with J.J. and Lisa since Mother and Daddy went out to dinner. They've been gone a while, so they've gone somewhere else too. This is Sunday evening so the traffic coming back up from Beach Haven will be a nightmare. They probably elected to stay down there, doing shopping or something, till later, which is wise. It's not like we don't have it under control here.
She made them a microwave pizza and they've been sitting down watching 'Mulan' in the TV room, Last I went down, for more iced tea, little J.J. was sitting at his small table surrounded by Transformers half acting out scenes of the movie with them. Lisa was stretched out on the carpet, stark naked, against her fluffy floor pillow, like a miniature princess. This is Jessy's influence-- I always say so. Jessy loves being pampered, even if she has to pamper herself. She's a bit frustrated still having to be in panties till tomorrow, but you can tell what she'd be wearing if she could be and she's such a good-natured little angel that it's hardly a hassle to her really.
I am clear now and haven't put anything on after the shower. I went round down there checking windows-- an odd thing to do with no clothes on! --but Jessy had them all closed and the draperies drawn on the beach side. It's because of the storm. Peering out I saw sand blowing round. The beach is entirely empty and the sky is gone threateningly dark. I will be glad for this storm because it should cool us off after two extremely hot days... but it is scary to see in its early stages and the little ones were upset with the sight of it.
Thunder rolls hard out at sea. The whole house rumbles with it. If we lose power the AirPort will still work, as will the security system and that whole computer network, but the little ones will lose the TV in the TV room as the generator doesn't carry all the outlets here. I was thinking of having something to eat but won't risk it till I know it's passed. I wonder why Mother has not called yet-- I wonder if they do not see this storm as it looks up here. They may only be in the restaurant. Jessy and I were to go to a party tonight but it sure looks like it won't be on. I wouldn't go there and linger round a hot sweaty house with too many idiots drinking too much for anything in the world.
Mother rang Jessy-- I have had the news of it. They just got to the car and will come up the Island directly. Daddy took her out in the old Buick-- the '65 convertible. It's funny-- in those wide bucket seats they sit about three feet apart! Petite Mother looks like a little girl! But the hood is new and they won't have leaks (like in the other one) though they have no AC in that car and will be sweating rivulets when the arrive! Jessy and I will put the little ones into the bath (one at a time now, for Lisa will not share with her brother any more) and cool them off. Mother will have a good long soak in her own. Daddy will check all the windows and phone half the people he knows out of worry-- it's what he does. I will stay up in my room naked and sweating. And chat online if I can.
...
15 July 2009
Full house
Tuesday & Wednesday, 14-15 July
Jessy, Josie and I left the castle early in the morning, went over and collected Becky, and got up to the Landing (house at Lewes) in time for lunch. Mother had a nice sandwich platter waiting, of which we girls ate pigs' shares. Well-- I am never much for breakfast and we had got nothing more than a bagel or so before we'd left. We had a nice visit and got to show Becky and Josie round our childhood home, including Mommy's cherished formal flower garden out back, newly rejuvenated by Mother (and a bit of paid help). They were especially touched to see Mommy's memorial stone, just a little statuette of an angel on top of the small square marble tablet lying over where her ashes rest. I was glad to be there at Lewes again-- I have not been there in some months. But I do not need Mommy's beloved house ot her gardens or the actual sight of her memorial tablet to remember her, you know.
We caught a ferry at 3.40 for Cape May. Neither Josie nor Becky had ever been on it. This is how provincial some of the people we have met in the Eastern Shore are. The ferry is a fun ride and Cape May is always a nice stop just for a day-- yet none of them have ever ventured two hours north to even see it. For them it is only a dotted line on a map. Jessy and I indulged them and we all went to the forwardmost gate and pretended to lean out like that scene in 'Titanic'. At least we did till we were scolded for it. Then we went up to the deck and leaned out over the railing there, which is more permissible. Needless to say those two dozen photos will make it on to three or four FaceBook sites shortly!
We did not stay for supper in Cape May but drove up directly to the Island and got settled in at the beach house. Jessy and Josie got the idea to stay in the little attic room, the one on the ocean side, where Lisa and J.J. usually sleep, and that might have been sensible. But in the end we all ended up sleeping all over our own room, the one on the western end of the house-- and when I say 'all over' I mean ALL OVER, for after a long game of 'Apples to Apples' we fell asleep where we were, mostly on the floor, though Becky was half up on top of my bed and when I woke up I found Josie curled up on her side with my foot under her pillow. The place was atrociously sweaty. Jessy and I got out of the house, in costume, for our shift at the shop, leaving Josie and Becky a note. They came down for breakfast at about 9.00, in swimsuits under their shorts and t-shirts, and the went to the beach. Jessy and I met them there-- still in costume of course. Of course people stare when we walk down the beach in-season, dressed like 1750s working girls. We put on smiles and carry hand baskets from which we give out discount coupons. The cards are for a free breakfast or sundae if you buy three, because Mommy always said she'd rather have families than dates. It's a different kind of clientele, one that tends to come back a few times during a vacation and then again and again, year after year. Besides giving away one out of for makes more business sense than giving away half, you know.
We sat with Becky and Josie in their swimsuits only for a few moments and then went up to change. We had successfully got out of working this evening (whilst I am typing this) and so spent the afternoon off on the mainland seeing 'Harry Potter 6' (sad movie, and very dark). We went shopping and got back here.
Tomorrow we will be working the evening shift. We hope to be on the beach most of the day. I always wonder if I will run into any of my online friends there... they ought to know by now how to find me. Till then I wish them luck! (ha)
...
Jessy, Josie and I left the castle early in the morning, went over and collected Becky, and got up to the Landing (house at Lewes) in time for lunch. Mother had a nice sandwich platter waiting, of which we girls ate pigs' shares. Well-- I am never much for breakfast and we had got nothing more than a bagel or so before we'd left. We had a nice visit and got to show Becky and Josie round our childhood home, including Mommy's cherished formal flower garden out back, newly rejuvenated by Mother (and a bit of paid help). They were especially touched to see Mommy's memorial stone, just a little statuette of an angel on top of the small square marble tablet lying over where her ashes rest. I was glad to be there at Lewes again-- I have not been there in some months. But I do not need Mommy's beloved house ot her gardens or the actual sight of her memorial tablet to remember her, you know.
We caught a ferry at 3.40 for Cape May. Neither Josie nor Becky had ever been on it. This is how provincial some of the people we have met in the Eastern Shore are. The ferry is a fun ride and Cape May is always a nice stop just for a day-- yet none of them have ever ventured two hours north to even see it. For them it is only a dotted line on a map. Jessy and I indulged them and we all went to the forwardmost gate and pretended to lean out like that scene in 'Titanic'. At least we did till we were scolded for it. Then we went up to the deck and leaned out over the railing there, which is more permissible. Needless to say those two dozen photos will make it on to three or four FaceBook sites shortly!
We did not stay for supper in Cape May but drove up directly to the Island and got settled in at the beach house. Jessy and Josie got the idea to stay in the little attic room, the one on the ocean side, where Lisa and J.J. usually sleep, and that might have been sensible. But in the end we all ended up sleeping all over our own room, the one on the western end of the house-- and when I say 'all over' I mean ALL OVER, for after a long game of 'Apples to Apples' we fell asleep where we were, mostly on the floor, though Becky was half up on top of my bed and when I woke up I found Josie curled up on her side with my foot under her pillow. The place was atrociously sweaty. Jessy and I got out of the house, in costume, for our shift at the shop, leaving Josie and Becky a note. They came down for breakfast at about 9.00, in swimsuits under their shorts and t-shirts, and the went to the beach. Jessy and I met them there-- still in costume of course. Of course people stare when we walk down the beach in-season, dressed like 1750s working girls. We put on smiles and carry hand baskets from which we give out discount coupons. The cards are for a free breakfast or sundae if you buy three, because Mommy always said she'd rather have families than dates. It's a different kind of clientele, one that tends to come back a few times during a vacation and then again and again, year after year. Besides giving away one out of for makes more business sense than giving away half, you know.
We sat with Becky and Josie in their swimsuits only for a few moments and then went up to change. We had successfully got out of working this evening (whilst I am typing this) and so spent the afternoon off on the mainland seeing 'Harry Potter 6' (sad movie, and very dark). We went shopping and got back here.
Tomorrow we will be working the evening shift. We hope to be on the beach most of the day. I always wonder if I will run into any of my online friends there... they ought to know by now how to find me. Till then I wish them luck! (ha)
...
14 February 2009
Looking back
Friday 13 February 2009
Jessy and I packed last night and we drove in to school in the Regal. Both of us were in skirts-- this is only typical. We also brought nice stuff to wear for church on Sunday though we have both admitted we are not sure we will go. Holy Innocents' has services at odd times during the off season.
After school we hurried out to the car and got on our way. The light fades fast here and so we went directly to the Ferry, not even checking on the house at Lewes, where Mommy is buried, that's even just a few blocks farther on. It was my first time driving onto the boat but I did well and Jessy was totally composed as though we had done this a hundred times before.
The boat ride is 70 minutes. It was one of the new boats and we got tea, but it was too cold to stay outside and we took a table by the windows. The wind seemed very strong in the middle of the Bay-- the water was mostly whitecaps and the boat tended to roll a lot. We were both happy to get ashore.
Of course I had never driven this way either by myself but it was not hard, and Route 9 turns into the Parkway and then it's just 65 MPH till you get there. I also had never driven this fast before, but I was very careful and not long before our exit Jessy rang Daddy and told him we were fine.
Our house in Surf City was the house we had when I was born. In fact this was to be our only home, I was to start school on the Island and to high school at Southern, and Mommy started her ice-cream parlour and the book store and we might have been very happy here. But my parents thought we should have the experience of growing up with a yard and a swimming pool and a slightly bigger house, so they built the place at Lewes and just after Jessy was born we moved there. So the house at Surf City has always been mainly a summer place for us. It is modest and old-fashioned (like everything about my parents and my family anyway) and has a lovely view of the ocean as well as up and down the beach.
The room that was always meant for Jessy and me to share is on the third floor, facing across the Island at the Bay actually. We each have an old-fashioned four-posted bed and there is a desk and wide dresser. It is an attic room with low walls and a sloping ceiling,. Round the top of the low walls, and across the end walls at the same level, is a cute wallpaper border of sailboats and seashells and dune grass that Mommy put up for us, sort of by surprise, about ten years ago. Neither of us has ever had any inclination to ever take it down. Also we have no inclination to take separate rooms-- there is a very nice guest room below our room that one of us could take, but neither of us could ever decide to be the one to not stay in this room where Mommy's wallpaper border is and so we continue to share. For now Lisa and little J.J. share the other room up here, a smaller, narrower, lower room over Mother and Daddy's room that sticks out in front towards the ocean. Some day one of them (probably Lisa) will adopt the guest room anyway, so it's just as well Jessy and I keep this one together.
Jessy and I have slowly been coming to the idea that we would like to stay here and work in Mommy's ice-cream parlour all summer. It is only what Mother (our stepmother) did when she was our nanny, the summer before and the summer after Mommy died. And she was only a year older then than I am now. I think Mommy would like us to do that, and, like Mother did, help manage the ice-cream parlour and carry on her tradition.
I have begun to believe that I would much rather do something like that than even to go to university somewhere. I could stay at this house all year and commute to Ocean County and try to figure out what I really do want to do. I only know I would miss Jessy, at least for that first year when I have done with school and she is still finishing. I suppose I could work with Daddy for that period. I know he would like that, especially because I would be home near him, which is what he really wants.
I apologise for rambling like this. I confess it is how I write when I am here-- I am less single-minded.
As soon as we got to this house we got changed into our Colonial dresses, just for fun. I have about eight different outfits, mostly handmade, of which I brought three for this weekend. In about 1750 I would have worn one not till I was sick of it but till I could not wear it any more. This weekend we're going to try to live at least in some ways like that. This afternoon I put on my light-blue skirt and bed-jacket with a plain muslin shift (undershirt like a nightgown) and stays (not exactly like a corset) under it and high socks with garters (round my calf of course) and slippers that are like ballet flats. This would have been typical for someone who was not a princess 250 years ago (and yes, I have said ALL that I have on... also typical). Jessy has on her dark-green bodice and plain muslin skirt over her shift and stays.
There are no boys to see us right now but in my experience they tend to love this gear on us girls. The bodice flatters her (I'll leave it for you to imagine why). We both feel very comfortable-- I often wish I could dress like this forever, but for now it is like a little game we are playing, like we did when Mother used to tutor us in the tea room at home in Lewes.
We made a fire in the kitchen, heated water for tea and, though we did (shamefully) cook two of the instant dinners we brought along in the microwave, we did eat by candlelight. I hooked up the laptop to the house network and by about 18.00 I was able to report to Daddy that everything was all right. Afterwards we put on our long winter coats and boots and went over the dunes to the beach. I remember happy times with Mommy, and later with our stepmother, dressing like this and skipping round the beach like we were living here 250 years ago. In the off-season there is hardly anyone here and when we were littler we didn't think that we may have looked odd to modern people. If Mommy could stroll the beach in her gorgeous handmade gowns and black stockings certainly we young girls could. I remember, the summer after she died, my nanny (as she was then) and I hiking the beach to work at the ice-cream parlour, in our long gowns and carrying our shoes, in front of everyone who was on the beach on a summer's evening in the high season. People stared, you know. But they all knew where we were going and smiled and waved as though we were celebrities. That's usually people's reaction, and it always makes me feel, even then, that something was good and right about being a girl who dressed in traditional clothes.
We saw only one person, some blocks down, with a dog. The night was going bitter. We returned to the house, set ourselves up at the kitchen table, and did our homework by candlelight till the fire faded, and then we watched DVDs ('Emma' AND 'Persuasion') till we went to bed. However I woke up at like midnight and typed in this, and I am going online to post it.
I will post more later as our 'retro' weekend proceeds.
...
Jessy and I packed last night and we drove in to school in the Regal. Both of us were in skirts-- this is only typical. We also brought nice stuff to wear for church on Sunday though we have both admitted we are not sure we will go. Holy Innocents' has services at odd times during the off season.
After school we hurried out to the car and got on our way. The light fades fast here and so we went directly to the Ferry, not even checking on the house at Lewes, where Mommy is buried, that's even just a few blocks farther on. It was my first time driving onto the boat but I did well and Jessy was totally composed as though we had done this a hundred times before.
The boat ride is 70 minutes. It was one of the new boats and we got tea, but it was too cold to stay outside and we took a table by the windows. The wind seemed very strong in the middle of the Bay-- the water was mostly whitecaps and the boat tended to roll a lot. We were both happy to get ashore.
Of course I had never driven this way either by myself but it was not hard, and Route 9 turns into the Parkway and then it's just 65 MPH till you get there. I also had never driven this fast before, but I was very careful and not long before our exit Jessy rang Daddy and told him we were fine.
Our house in Surf City was the house we had when I was born. In fact this was to be our only home, I was to start school on the Island and to high school at Southern, and Mommy started her ice-cream parlour and the book store and we might have been very happy here. But my parents thought we should have the experience of growing up with a yard and a swimming pool and a slightly bigger house, so they built the place at Lewes and just after Jessy was born we moved there. So the house at Surf City has always been mainly a summer place for us. It is modest and old-fashioned (like everything about my parents and my family anyway) and has a lovely view of the ocean as well as up and down the beach.
The room that was always meant for Jessy and me to share is on the third floor, facing across the Island at the Bay actually. We each have an old-fashioned four-posted bed and there is a desk and wide dresser. It is an attic room with low walls and a sloping ceiling,. Round the top of the low walls, and across the end walls at the same level, is a cute wallpaper border of sailboats and seashells and dune grass that Mommy put up for us, sort of by surprise, about ten years ago. Neither of us has ever had any inclination to ever take it down. Also we have no inclination to take separate rooms-- there is a very nice guest room below our room that one of us could take, but neither of us could ever decide to be the one to not stay in this room where Mommy's wallpaper border is and so we continue to share. For now Lisa and little J.J. share the other room up here, a smaller, narrower, lower room over Mother and Daddy's room that sticks out in front towards the ocean. Some day one of them (probably Lisa) will adopt the guest room anyway, so it's just as well Jessy and I keep this one together.
Jessy and I have slowly been coming to the idea that we would like to stay here and work in Mommy's ice-cream parlour all summer. It is only what Mother (our stepmother) did when she was our nanny, the summer before and the summer after Mommy died. And she was only a year older then than I am now. I think Mommy would like us to do that, and, like Mother did, help manage the ice-cream parlour and carry on her tradition.
I have begun to believe that I would much rather do something like that than even to go to university somewhere. I could stay at this house all year and commute to Ocean County and try to figure out what I really do want to do. I only know I would miss Jessy, at least for that first year when I have done with school and she is still finishing. I suppose I could work with Daddy for that period. I know he would like that, especially because I would be home near him, which is what he really wants.
I apologise for rambling like this. I confess it is how I write when I am here-- I am less single-minded.
As soon as we got to this house we got changed into our Colonial dresses, just for fun. I have about eight different outfits, mostly handmade, of which I brought three for this weekend. In about 1750 I would have worn one not till I was sick of it but till I could not wear it any more. This weekend we're going to try to live at least in some ways like that. This afternoon I put on my light-blue skirt and bed-jacket with a plain muslin shift (undershirt like a nightgown) and stays (not exactly like a corset) under it and high socks with garters (round my calf of course) and slippers that are like ballet flats. This would have been typical for someone who was not a princess 250 years ago (and yes, I have said ALL that I have on... also typical). Jessy has on her dark-green bodice and plain muslin skirt over her shift and stays.
There are no boys to see us right now but in my experience they tend to love this gear on us girls. The bodice flatters her (I'll leave it for you to imagine why). We both feel very comfortable-- I often wish I could dress like this forever, but for now it is like a little game we are playing, like we did when Mother used to tutor us in the tea room at home in Lewes.
We made a fire in the kitchen, heated water for tea and, though we did (shamefully) cook two of the instant dinners we brought along in the microwave, we did eat by candlelight. I hooked up the laptop to the house network and by about 18.00 I was able to report to Daddy that everything was all right. Afterwards we put on our long winter coats and boots and went over the dunes to the beach. I remember happy times with Mommy, and later with our stepmother, dressing like this and skipping round the beach like we were living here 250 years ago. In the off-season there is hardly anyone here and when we were littler we didn't think that we may have looked odd to modern people. If Mommy could stroll the beach in her gorgeous handmade gowns and black stockings certainly we young girls could. I remember, the summer after she died, my nanny (as she was then) and I hiking the beach to work at the ice-cream parlour, in our long gowns and carrying our shoes, in front of everyone who was on the beach on a summer's evening in the high season. People stared, you know. But they all knew where we were going and smiled and waved as though we were celebrities. That's usually people's reaction, and it always makes me feel, even then, that something was good and right about being a girl who dressed in traditional clothes.
We saw only one person, some blocks down, with a dog. The night was going bitter. We returned to the house, set ourselves up at the kitchen table, and did our homework by candlelight till the fire faded, and then we watched DVDs ('Emma' AND 'Persuasion') till we went to bed. However I woke up at like midnight and typed in this, and I am going online to post it.
I will post more later as our 'retro' weekend proceeds.
...
12 February 2009
We see into the life of things
Wednesday 11 February 2009
As predicted today was like 65 degrees. This is really frustrating when you have school on a day like this. By the end of fourth period I was devising all these diabolical plans to skip the rest of the school day and go to the beach. Who knows? --there might have been no one at Chincoteague and I might have got to indulge there. Well-- that was not going to happen for three reasons. The first reason is that I had school, and that's still important. The second reason is that nudity is illegal on Virginia public grounds, including beaches. The third reason is that it's this week.
At lunch I talked Jessy into riding up to Chincoteague anyway. Roger met us at the kerb and we got a lot of our homework done on the 30-minute trip. The beach was almost empty-- we saw maybe half a dozen people there, not including in the parking area. We actually took off our shoes and tights and ran down to the water's edge. Of course the water was icy, but that's not why we had to do it. This is February, and we were barefoot on the beach. How much could that EVER be bad?
We had a walk together, up towards the other parking area and then back down to the car. Both of us reached the conclusion that there must be something in heredity, for Daddy has always preferred a walk on the beach too, to clear his head and to gain some new outlook on life. It was from him that I learned the Wordsworth poem commonly known as 'Tintern Abbey' that says the intimate experience of being in a certain place that is special to you will give you a kind of insight on greater things in the greater world:
'While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.'
Wordsworth says he gets this 'power' from the sights and sensations of the beautiful countryside above the Wye river as he accompanies his sister on her first visit there. I have been to where the poet sat when he wrote this and have some idea of how strong the impression must have been on him. My daddy gets the same kind of refreshment from a walk on the beach. I have known him, when we lived at the house at Lewes, and even before, at Long Beach Island, to go out to the beach and merely stand there, or maybe walk a bit, with no destination, as though, like Wordsworth, he is being rejuvenated just by being there. 'Rejuvenated' is a good word-- meaning to have again the spirit of youth. I think that's what Daddy gets-- a kind of spiritual return to his happy younger years, before Christine died, before the band broke up, before he had to worry about family and money and real estate. To him the beach is like a childhood playground he gets to visit all over again.
I have seen my daddy sit on the beach and stare out at the water, completely ignoring any of the people around him (yes even cute girls in bikinis). He does not go to the beach to see the people, but to see the water. And I think I know what that is like. Having grown up no farther than 50 metres from the ocean shore all my life, I know that there is something deeply spiritual, deeply powerful, about the sky and sea and sand together. I can sit there and stare out at the horizon, imagining myself out there, but we know that's impossible-- there really is no horizon. If you were to go there, there would still be another horizon, drawing you farther and farther. Chasing it is in vain. And yet something in me makes me wish I could sail off out there and chase it forever. And that something is what compels me to come to the beach to clear my mind and to look to the future.
Jessy listened to me talking like this and finally said, 'I wish we could go to Surf City this weekend.'
I stopped walking and just looked at her. 'Do you really want to?'
She did not look at me, only down at her feet, and resumed walking. 'If we could.'
I nodded at once. 'I'll ask Daddy when we get home.'
We looked at each other with wide eyes and smiled. After that we walked more quickly back to the car.
Daddy was actually out on some errands, so when we got home I asked our stepmother. 'I think he will worry about you,' she said. 'I will worry about you. Though after this weather today I can't blame you for wanting to be there.' We both looked out the window and commented on it, and then Mother said, 'Ask him when he comes home and see. As long as you phone when you get there.....'
'Yes,' I assured her. So when Daddy got home I asked him. 'Just to see it,' I said. 'Just to walk on the beach. And we can check on anything you want us to....'
He thought for a long moment and then said, 'Well I suppose Roger can make it up there this weekend.'
'No, Daddy,' I said. 'I want to drive myself. Jessy and I want it to just be her and me.'
He looked at me for a long moment. 'Are you sure?'
I nodded, definitely. 'If you think it's all right.'
My daddy thought for a long moment. His next comment was about the ride, the route, taking the Ferry, me driving on my own up the Parkway and having to recognise the right exit.... Then he had a list of things for us to check on, the house, the dinghy under the house, the ice-cream parlour, our uncle's boat laid up at the yacht club.... Then he suggested that we would have to bring warmer winter clothes, that it was by no means certain it would be this warm this weekend. By this time I already knew we were permitted to go.
Tonight after dinner Jessy came in to my room, dressed in socks, a plain pale-blue man's shirt like the one I use for a cover-up, and, I'm pretty sure, nothing else. I had a fire going with almost the last of the hickory logs and was quite cosy myself. 'Do you still have your warm gown?'
I looked up at her. 'My green one?'
She nodded. She had meant my Colonial-era costume which I've had since before we went to England. Mommy used to love 1700s reenactments and got the whole family interested in that time period. In fact after our new stepmother took us out of school, following the Jesus essay fiasco, she and the two of us used to dress like that all the time, holding our lessons and everything else in our very traditional, all-natural-fibre gowns.
'Yes,' I told her. 'Is that what you're thinking for this weekend?'
She smiled at me. 'Apparently it's what you're thinking too,' she said.
I smiled back. 'So... apparently it's what we're doing.'
A whole weekend by ourselves in our Colonial clothes-- unless of course the weather favours sunbathing on the deck. I cannot wait.
...
As predicted today was like 65 degrees. This is really frustrating when you have school on a day like this. By the end of fourth period I was devising all these diabolical plans to skip the rest of the school day and go to the beach. Who knows? --there might have been no one at Chincoteague and I might have got to indulge there. Well-- that was not going to happen for three reasons. The first reason is that I had school, and that's still important. The second reason is that nudity is illegal on Virginia public grounds, including beaches. The third reason is that it's this week.
At lunch I talked Jessy into riding up to Chincoteague anyway. Roger met us at the kerb and we got a lot of our homework done on the 30-minute trip. The beach was almost empty-- we saw maybe half a dozen people there, not including in the parking area. We actually took off our shoes and tights and ran down to the water's edge. Of course the water was icy, but that's not why we had to do it. This is February, and we were barefoot on the beach. How much could that EVER be bad?
We had a walk together, up towards the other parking area and then back down to the car. Both of us reached the conclusion that there must be something in heredity, for Daddy has always preferred a walk on the beach too, to clear his head and to gain some new outlook on life. It was from him that I learned the Wordsworth poem commonly known as 'Tintern Abbey' that says the intimate experience of being in a certain place that is special to you will give you a kind of insight on greater things in the greater world:
'While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.'
Wordsworth says he gets this 'power' from the sights and sensations of the beautiful countryside above the Wye river as he accompanies his sister on her first visit there. I have been to where the poet sat when he wrote this and have some idea of how strong the impression must have been on him. My daddy gets the same kind of refreshment from a walk on the beach. I have known him, when we lived at the house at Lewes, and even before, at Long Beach Island, to go out to the beach and merely stand there, or maybe walk a bit, with no destination, as though, like Wordsworth, he is being rejuvenated just by being there. 'Rejuvenated' is a good word-- meaning to have again the spirit of youth. I think that's what Daddy gets-- a kind of spiritual return to his happy younger years, before Christine died, before the band broke up, before he had to worry about family and money and real estate. To him the beach is like a childhood playground he gets to visit all over again.
I have seen my daddy sit on the beach and stare out at the water, completely ignoring any of the people around him (yes even cute girls in bikinis). He does not go to the beach to see the people, but to see the water. And I think I know what that is like. Having grown up no farther than 50 metres from the ocean shore all my life, I know that there is something deeply spiritual, deeply powerful, about the sky and sea and sand together. I can sit there and stare out at the horizon, imagining myself out there, but we know that's impossible-- there really is no horizon. If you were to go there, there would still be another horizon, drawing you farther and farther. Chasing it is in vain. And yet something in me makes me wish I could sail off out there and chase it forever. And that something is what compels me to come to the beach to clear my mind and to look to the future.
Jessy listened to me talking like this and finally said, 'I wish we could go to Surf City this weekend.'
I stopped walking and just looked at her. 'Do you really want to?'
She did not look at me, only down at her feet, and resumed walking. 'If we could.'
I nodded at once. 'I'll ask Daddy when we get home.'
We looked at each other with wide eyes and smiled. After that we walked more quickly back to the car.
Daddy was actually out on some errands, so when we got home I asked our stepmother. 'I think he will worry about you,' she said. 'I will worry about you. Though after this weather today I can't blame you for wanting to be there.' We both looked out the window and commented on it, and then Mother said, 'Ask him when he comes home and see. As long as you phone when you get there.....'
'Yes,' I assured her. So when Daddy got home I asked him. 'Just to see it,' I said. 'Just to walk on the beach. And we can check on anything you want us to....'
He thought for a long moment and then said, 'Well I suppose Roger can make it up there this weekend.'
'No, Daddy,' I said. 'I want to drive myself. Jessy and I want it to just be her and me.'
He looked at me for a long moment. 'Are you sure?'
I nodded, definitely. 'If you think it's all right.'
My daddy thought for a long moment. His next comment was about the ride, the route, taking the Ferry, me driving on my own up the Parkway and having to recognise the right exit.... Then he had a list of things for us to check on, the house, the dinghy under the house, the ice-cream parlour, our uncle's boat laid up at the yacht club.... Then he suggested that we would have to bring warmer winter clothes, that it was by no means certain it would be this warm this weekend. By this time I already knew we were permitted to go.
Tonight after dinner Jessy came in to my room, dressed in socks, a plain pale-blue man's shirt like the one I use for a cover-up, and, I'm pretty sure, nothing else. I had a fire going with almost the last of the hickory logs and was quite cosy myself. 'Do you still have your warm gown?'
I looked up at her. 'My green one?'
She nodded. She had meant my Colonial-era costume which I've had since before we went to England. Mommy used to love 1700s reenactments and got the whole family interested in that time period. In fact after our new stepmother took us out of school, following the Jesus essay fiasco, she and the two of us used to dress like that all the time, holding our lessons and everything else in our very traditional, all-natural-fibre gowns.
'Yes,' I told her. 'Is that what you're thinking for this weekend?'
She smiled at me. 'Apparently it's what you're thinking too,' she said.
I smiled back. 'So... apparently it's what we're doing.'
A whole weekend by ourselves in our Colonial clothes-- unless of course the weather favours sunbathing on the deck. I cannot wait.
...
22 August 2008
A secret adventure
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
Today we got up pretty early to go sailing. Little J.J. feel asleep almost as soon as he got on board, all bundled up in his lifejacket in the forward berth. The rest of us sat up on deck as we went out through Burtons Bay and through the inlet to the ocean. This is the way usually taken by the fishermen and we waved to them all. There were four of us in swimsuits-- me, Jessy, Lisa, and Mother (our stepmother). Sometimes Mother looks as young as we are!
Since the weather is usually from the south at this time of year, we headed down the coast, outside Parramore and Hog. Just before noon we anchored in the shallows behind Cobb, as we have done before, and had a swim. Daddy waded round with little J.J. on his shoulders and then put him and Lisa into the dinghy and rowed them round the boat while Mother, Jessy and I swam and basked. We returned to the boat to have sandwiches and then Jessy and I put on swim slippers and waded in to the island. It is very empty and open, just dunes and grass and swamps down along the water. We saw crabs and turtles and plenty of fish, and we were able to see where the gulls had their nests.
This would be a very nice place for sunning but it is still public property and Virginia law prohibits all nudity on public land. Nevertheless Jessy took off her top for a while, and then so did I. We tromped down over the dunes to the ocean side and suddenly got the idea to dare ourselves. There was no one around and our parents would not see us breaking the law. So we shimmied out of our bottoms too and splashed out into the surf.
Neither of us has ever gone into the ocean naked. It was a lovely feeling, or should I say an exciting one. Both of us were sprinkled with goosepimples. 'Oh! I wish I had a camera!' Jessy said.
I laughed at that. 'I would NOT let you post them on FaceBook,' I said.
'Rats.'
We both laughed.
Of course we still had on our swim slippers because the bottom here is always questionable. We were not in the water long and then we collected our sandy swimsuit pieces and tromped back over the dune. From up on the crest we could see the boat, flying the family flag, with two adult figures and two smaller ones sitting in the cockpit. The sun had gone overhead and we wondered if they could make us out. Actually I think they were not looking.
We took turns sitting on a piece of wood and wet our swimsuit bottoms before pulling them on. Standing up in the water we retied each other's top. 'I would love to come here alone,' Jessy said quietly, almost in a whisper. 'Just the two of us... so we could do this all day.'
I sighed. 'Me too,' I said.
She turned around and looked right at me then. 'Do you remember that time I was in the pool, and I got you to do this?'
I nodded. It was the first time I'd been swimming naked since I was about six.
'It felt like that this time, too.'
I felt a really strong shiver go through me then. I knew what she meant. 'Me too,' I said.
She giggled a little and then turned to wade back across the bay.
We didn't tell anyone about our little adventure. This is the first I have mentioned it.
We sailed back up the coast, mostly downwind, with the big blue-and-white genoa and matching mizzen staysail up. Daddy really likes to set sail and get the boat moving. For a while I lay down on the foredeck with my chin on the rail, staring down at the froth of water. I did think of untying my top; but what would be the point? I'm tan enough, and it'd only be awkward getting myself back together when I had to; and besides, my upper body was mostly in shade from the sail. Jessy came forward and sat down on the other side of me. 'Wee should have our own boat,' she said. 'We could go down there all the time, by ourselves, and just... relax.'
I turned my head and looked up at her. 'Are you going to be all right, there?'
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, filling her chest. Then she sighed, almost sadly. 'Eventually....'
I giggled. 'I know what you'll be doing, when we get back home.'
She sighed again. 'I know. And why not? I'd have been doing it already, if....'
I nodded. 'I know.... If....'
She smiled. 'You want it too.'
'Sometimes I do.'
'No, I mean that place. You want that place too.'
That is how she said it, like that place could be taken, captured, owned, held. But I knew what she meant. She wants the experience of being naked there, wandering around amidst the rushes and dunes with no other human being nearby. And I admit I want it too. Maybe someday we'll get to have that place again, to ourselves, and for more than one not-so-buggy afternoon with our parents waiting.
...
Today we got up pretty early to go sailing. Little J.J. feel asleep almost as soon as he got on board, all bundled up in his lifejacket in the forward berth. The rest of us sat up on deck as we went out through Burtons Bay and through the inlet to the ocean. This is the way usually taken by the fishermen and we waved to them all. There were four of us in swimsuits-- me, Jessy, Lisa, and Mother (our stepmother). Sometimes Mother looks as young as we are!
Since the weather is usually from the south at this time of year, we headed down the coast, outside Parramore and Hog. Just before noon we anchored in the shallows behind Cobb, as we have done before, and had a swim. Daddy waded round with little J.J. on his shoulders and then put him and Lisa into the dinghy and rowed them round the boat while Mother, Jessy and I swam and basked. We returned to the boat to have sandwiches and then Jessy and I put on swim slippers and waded in to the island. It is very empty and open, just dunes and grass and swamps down along the water. We saw crabs and turtles and plenty of fish, and we were able to see where the gulls had their nests.
This would be a very nice place for sunning but it is still public property and Virginia law prohibits all nudity on public land. Nevertheless Jessy took off her top for a while, and then so did I. We tromped down over the dunes to the ocean side and suddenly got the idea to dare ourselves. There was no one around and our parents would not see us breaking the law. So we shimmied out of our bottoms too and splashed out into the surf.
Neither of us has ever gone into the ocean naked. It was a lovely feeling, or should I say an exciting one. Both of us were sprinkled with goosepimples. 'Oh! I wish I had a camera!' Jessy said.
I laughed at that. 'I would NOT let you post them on FaceBook,' I said.
'Rats.'
We both laughed.
Of course we still had on our swim slippers because the bottom here is always questionable. We were not in the water long and then we collected our sandy swimsuit pieces and tromped back over the dune. From up on the crest we could see the boat, flying the family flag, with two adult figures and two smaller ones sitting in the cockpit. The sun had gone overhead and we wondered if they could make us out. Actually I think they were not looking.
We took turns sitting on a piece of wood and wet our swimsuit bottoms before pulling them on. Standing up in the water we retied each other's top. 'I would love to come here alone,' Jessy said quietly, almost in a whisper. 'Just the two of us... so we could do this all day.'
I sighed. 'Me too,' I said.
She turned around and looked right at me then. 'Do you remember that time I was in the pool, and I got you to do this?'
I nodded. It was the first time I'd been swimming naked since I was about six.
'It felt like that this time, too.'
I felt a really strong shiver go through me then. I knew what she meant. 'Me too,' I said.
She giggled a little and then turned to wade back across the bay.
We didn't tell anyone about our little adventure. This is the first I have mentioned it.
We sailed back up the coast, mostly downwind, with the big blue-and-white genoa and matching mizzen staysail up. Daddy really likes to set sail and get the boat moving. For a while I lay down on the foredeck with my chin on the rail, staring down at the froth of water. I did think of untying my top; but what would be the point? I'm tan enough, and it'd only be awkward getting myself back together when I had to; and besides, my upper body was mostly in shade from the sail. Jessy came forward and sat down on the other side of me. 'Wee should have our own boat,' she said. 'We could go down there all the time, by ourselves, and just... relax.'
I turned my head and looked up at her. 'Are you going to be all right, there?'
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, filling her chest. Then she sighed, almost sadly. 'Eventually....'
I giggled. 'I know what you'll be doing, when we get back home.'
She sighed again. 'I know. And why not? I'd have been doing it already, if....'
I nodded. 'I know.... If....'
She smiled. 'You want it too.'
'Sometimes I do.'
'No, I mean that place. You want that place too.'
That is how she said it, like that place could be taken, captured, owned, held. But I knew what she meant. She wants the experience of being naked there, wandering around amidst the rushes and dunes with no other human being nearby. And I admit I want it too. Maybe someday we'll get to have that place again, to ourselves, and for more than one not-so-buggy afternoon with our parents waiting.
...
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