I don't blame you for not going to watch the parade if you didn't have a hat. Too cold and windy for that. Whoa, Bob, I love your writing. Who is she? Why is Oliver so fascinated with her? More, please!
Climatologists swarmed to the island for their annual convention. Not that there was anything special about the data to be gathered from the exposed coral terraces on the north end of the island. It was the reputation of the island's reefs as prime dive sites and the agreeable resort accommodations that brought them in droves to stalk like bespectacled storks atop the exposed ancient reefs in Bise Morto collecting samples for their labs or bob greenly in small boats at the base of the short cliffs while identifying and classifying sea life preserved in the limestone. Major George Clemment and his wife Susan hosted a cocktail party for the most notable of the visiting scientists and the members of the local diving group. Jack Swallow was also invited as a major financial supporter of the island's reef preservation movement but he never appeared and didn't even call to make an excuse. "I don't care how much money he has poured into the coffers of the organization," Susan said to George as she refilled the punch bowl, "the man is plain rude." George just grunted, as have wise husbands from the beginning of time.
Yesterday was a hard to not smoke day. Don't know why, but I'm happy it's over.
--Barbara
No comments:
Post a Comment