Today’s blog is brought to you by: Laptop By The Pool
No, seriously, somehow I’ve managed to find myself in a luxury villa compound in St. Philip, day houseguest of an American woman I only met a few hours ago. Oh well. I could tell you how I came to be here, but your version would be more exciting.
Blogging from over 4000 miles away seems rather strange, and yet still right. I’d decided to do myself a favour and disconnect from all of the unnecessary things I have to maintain in Britain. I can’t entirely disconnect because the academic deadlines will be waiting for me when I get back, and I do have to do some work while I’m out here. So I’ve trimmed everything else right down, but this blog has become something more than an obligation; it’s become a way of sorting through all of the disparate pieces and putting them into lines, and having the record of where I’ve been helps me to figure out where I want to get to. Basically I’ll forget everything I’ve ever done if I don’t write it down. No pictures yet, as I’ve managed to forget my camera. And I’ve been sleeping for most of this time.
The strangest thing about being back home this time is how it doesn’t feel strange at all. Two years ago, coming in to land was almost revelatory, and the hangars, garages and houses seemed so small and unreal. Two years later, the entire experience felt entirely different, just as it should be; less exciting, yes, but more comforting, as there was no shock to overcome, only a sense of familiarity.
Working on my reading list whilst communing with my roots hasn’t been entirely straightforward; the Henwood library wouldn’t be too impressed at how close their copy of Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble came to salty ruin by way of an unexpectedly high wave at Miami Beach. Fortunately there’s no more than a bit of sand under their spine sticker, so I’ve got away with it this time.
Having a few days to recuperate before my mother arrives from Boston with her inevitable flurry of activity has been a bit of a blessing. Once she’s here there will be the inevitable visits to the old neighbourhood, the friends, the relatives, and of course the stopping in the street to chat with casual acquaintances, of which she apparently has thousands in this island. My role in this will be part participant, part chauffeur.
There’s never a break from the drama though; today my laptop charger decided to bite the dust, leaving me in the half-charged lurch. So while I have a few minutes of charge left, I’m saving my notes as an email draft, and uploading this missive. If good ol’ mother has managed to come to my rescue and buy a replacement charger for my laptop, everything will go wonderfully, and the updates will continue. If not, I’m stuffed.
