Author: The Reads

So the reviews are in:

On 16 Oct,  Jean Passepartout wrote,

You ok? Storm passed over but it didn’t stop you using hyperbole and unnecessary imagery in your ‘blog’. Awful. I wretched. 

I was writing your birthday card. (Yes 50 this year). What do you need that I can send out. I here they are short of spoons. What do you miss and what do you need? Please bare in mind I have limitless resources plus a blood feud against the entire area. 

Saw Our mutual friend  (his name has been omitted to protect the innocent) at lunch and that was nice. Went to the Phoenix, The Saatchi Gallery and a bookshop. We moaned a bit. Which was nice too. Been a tough few days. But, I have decided that the important things render everything else the less important. 

Yours, 

Passepartout

_________________________________________________________________
My Dear Jean,
For our mutual amusement I have entitled my reply:

And the pot called the kettle black…
The Pot, for it was only a poor thing made of metal, did not know it was black.

Years of hanging over the sooty open fire had slowly turned the once shiny pot to the darkest black. Encrusted with years of fire filth and grime from poor cooking, it had built up layer upon layer of rust, dust, soot and silt until eventually it was blacker than darkest night.

The dim light that filtered through the moss tinged kitchen window of the run down shack was hungrily absorbed by the shadow surface of the pot, sucked deep inside never to reflect back into the gloomy room.

Day after day, year after year that old pot hung over the fire, its contents bubbling. An endless stew of old mutton, hare, age softened vegetables, whatever meagre fare its broken old owner could find.

Never washed. Never emptied. The battered old pot hung over the insipid fire every so often dimly recalling a time when it had been new.

It hung sullenly in its dimmly lit nook resenting the fire, resenting the gloom and thinking dark thoughts. It swung listlessly muttering and moaning, bubbling and groaning and from time to time vaguely remembering when it had been mirrored and unblemished. Unaware of how time and long use had changed it, the scars it now bore and the colour it now wore.

Very few things in this world are or were as black as that old pot. Over the years the blackness that painted its outside penetrated its cold metal heart until it was as dark within as without.

And yet, it did not know.

One day the old hermit who dwelt in that gloomy abode shuffled in from the cold outside.

Wrapped in poor rags and still peppered with snow from the winter world outside he shuffled stiffly to the fire place and dumped down an old threadbare sack.

Hacking and spitting, wretching and coughing he spat into the flames, the gob of green glistening sputum glowing briefly, like an emerald meteor, before burning out in the flickering flames of the poor fire with a damp hiss.

Reaching into his bag he pulled out a brand new enamelled kettle and filling it from an ancient bucket he hung it next to the old pot.

The old pot turned and saw the kettle and with a sneer he greeted the newcomer in a voice full of gloom and with not a hint of irony or self awareness it mumbled, “God you’re so black…”

‘Hyperbole and unnecessary imagery’ have you read your own emails lately? ‘The important things render…’ trite nonsense! At least the tripe I write is cheerful and upbeat…

And it’s ‘hear’ you donkey, if you are going to take the piss put a little effort in, otherwise it just seems lazy!

Thank you for your concern, we are OK for spoons. A container load arrived from Mexico just before Hurricane Matthew hit, they are not Sheffield Steal but as cheap pressed metal spoons go they are not bad. The edges are a bit sharp but I think that is because they are designed to be used both as soup eating implements and for eye gouging.

How are you for Marmite? I could FedEx you some. I hear things are pretty difficult over there what with Brexit and the Nazis being back in power.

The families in my school community have put together a collection of food, drinking water and hygiene products that they were going to send to Haiti. But even after the devastation of the last few weeks, upon hearing your story and reading about your plight in the Daily Mail their sense is that with the plunging pound, Chorizo prices rocketing and Evian and L’oreal becoming unaffordable, due to an unfavourable exchange rate with the Euro, you may need it more. Remember winter is coming. Expect a container from us soon, it will be the one with the big Red Cross on the side smelling of sunshine.

In terms of your generous offer, as regards my birthday, there is a picture in a local gallery that you could contribute towards. (But if you do, could you wire the money from your overseas account because the £ is worth bubkiss and I will get better value for your gift if you send it from outside the UK).

With fondest regards your dear friend,

Phileas Fogg

Marcel has objected to this post as he thinks he may actually be blacker that the pot described in the story…

I have tried to explain it is just a s story but he does not get it because he is a cat!

P.

I have mentioned before that Sunday is a quiet day here. With almost everything closed for the day you have to make your own fun. So this week we went for a picnic. 

OK so the picnic was on a catamaran called the Allura.

We met the boat over at the Yacht Club and set off across North Sound for the day. A day relaxing, drinking beer, snorkelling, swimming and sailing.

After a week of worrying about the weather it was blissful. Clear Blue skies, calm seas and a gentle breeze to take the edge off the heat.

We headed out to the reef for an hour before having lunch with the stingrays and an onboard picnic. After our lovely lunch we headed to Starfish Point for a paddle.

Then sun drenched up went the sail and we headed back into the sunset and what had been a boatful of laughter and fun became quiet and reflective as we watched the sun sink into the sea.

A lovely day was had by all.

(Culture shock 3)

So there I am sat in my office first thing in the morning one quick SEN meeting done and it is shaping up to be a fairly normal day. When in walks Jackie Brown (not her real name but she does look like Pam Grier from the Quentin Tarantino movie of the same name and it makes us both laugh).

‘Mr Read,’ she says, ‘I am planning a visit for Year 2 and would like to charter a plane…’

My jaw hit the table.

‘What?’

‘We are planning a visit to Cayman Brac for Year Two in the summer term and I would like to charter a plane to get them there.’ She replies like it is normal. ‘Last year we took nearly 100 people.’

‘Right,’ Says I, ‘and how do we pay for this?’

‘Cake sales,’ comes the answer.

I figure that is a lot of cake!

‘That’s fine,’ says I regaining my composure, ‘ I’ll come along to help…’

Cake and a free plane ride! Whoo Hoo.

In preparing to move out here my biggest fear was hurricanes and the fact that we were coming out in hurricane season.

Eight weeks after arriving the most leathal and powerful storm to hit the Caribbean in over a decade arrived. A real monster, a beast of a storm.

So far we have been hugely lucky and Hurricane Matthew did not turn towards us. But even as I say this I feel terribly guilty and aware that our fortune has meant genuine misfortune and disaster for others and there is more to come.

Watching the news and how the storm has ravaged Haiti you get the mearest incling as to how truely terrifying living through a direct hit from a hurricane must be.

Life here in Grand Cayman is returning to normal and there is a palpable sense of just how close a call we have had.

We are still feeling the effects of Matthew. The skies are still overcast. We have had inches of rain with more to come. It has been cool, almost cold. Perhaps the most obvious sign has been that the usually calm sea has been very rough. The normally crystalline water has been turned milky by the amount of churned up sand it is carrying.

The other sign has been in people’s faces. Genuine fear and worry etched there for all to see.

The scars left by Ivan may have healed on the surface but psychological they are still raw. You can see it in people’s eyes, they look like they are going to run or burst into tears at any moment. Talking to a couple of my staff about it the other day they actually began to shake. Their hands went first and it slowly spread up their arms until you could see it in their shoulders and in the supreme effort it took to control it.

For the last week there has been no other topic of conversation. People have been near manic with stress and worry. Mobile phones have been seriptiously  kept on, browsers linked to the weather channels as the track of the storm has been followed by all, day and night.

After a week of worry no  one can quite believe the storm has chosen to go another way. No one is ready to let their guard down and to believe that we might actually be in the clear.

This time…

People keep saying to me it’s good to get your first one out of the way early. But what they are really saying is, ‘This time we seem to have gotten lucky.’

‘This time.’

There And ‘BRAC’ Again.
A (Literacy) Coaches Tale
By V A Read.

Today I went to Cayman Brac (one of the smaller islands about 100 km east of Grand Cayman) to coach teachers in literacy strategies at the two small primary schools there.

Here are some photos of that quest from start to finish. The return flight got a little hairy as we were close to a 650 mile wide storm, ironically named ‘Storm Matthew.’

As you can see the plane was quite small. We flew past ‘Little Cayman’ which is an even smaller island than Cayman Brac.

It’s normally only the rich and famous that commute to work by plane!

Victoria was up early today for her commute to work.

It involved flying to Cayman Brac on the Government plane for the first time!

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The short flight took her out over Little Cayman before landing on our sister island The Brac!

On the way back Victoria flew over the outer fringes of Tropical Storm Matthew and saw a great light show.

Chatting to her on the phone before she caught the flight back it sounds like she had a good day!

As much as I would like to be able to say that today’s blog is about my impact on these islands, a tounge in cheek piece about my ego, or a self-depricating monologue regarding my over inflated sense of self-importance. I am afraid it is not.

Tropical Storm Matthew is on the way from the Atlantic and has a high chance of becoming Hurricane Matthew by the weekend!

It is Tuesday but I have already lost track of the number of Hurricane Matthew jokes this week. Gallows humour is strong here. Gulp…

“A budding tropical system is likely to soon become Tropical Depression Fourteen and then Tropical Storm Matthew at any time into Wednesday,” AccuWeather Hurricane Expert Dan Kottlowski said.

“The system will take a westward path across the central Caribbean this weekend, where strengthening to a hurricane is possible,” Kottlowski said.

Areas from the Dominican Republic and Haiti to Cuba and Jamaica, as well as northern Venezuela and Colombia, should closely monitor the path and strength of the system, which could be a strong tropical storm or hurricane by Sunday.

It is too soon to even mention specifics regarding landfall location, if there is a landfall at all. But coastal residents along the Gulf and East coasts should be aware that there is the potential for a tropical storm or hurricane in their vicinity next week.

It’s just a mess of clouds and rain on Tuesday, but a vast majority of forecast models expect this system to strengthen as it tracks west. Many of these models suggest it will become a hurricane later this week. On Tuesday, the National Hurricane Center gave this system 90% of becoming a tropical cyclone by Thursday morning.

Interaction with the large islands and mountains could hinder any strengthening.

Cruise, fishing and shipping interests in the Caribbean Sea may want to avoid the area until the threat passes beyond early next week.

The system could take a northward or northwestward turn late this weekend and into early next week.

How far west the system makes the turn will determine whether or not the U.S. Gulf Coast or the Atlantic Seaboard will be threatened next week.

The system’s movement will also dictate which of the Greater Antilles would be directly affected by heavy rain, flooding, mudslides and strong winds this weekend.