Done & Dusted

Magnificent Monday

The entrance to Chez Stuart with Scooter stabled outside

Nine thirty in the morning is the projected hand over moment, so I head down to the State Bank of Mauritius to see if my money has been received, so I can deal up with the landlord and Agent. It  would have been too good to be true if the transfer had been a swift, fluid, success story, I guess, as of course, my account still only held the opening two hundred rupees and that'll only go as far as a fine four pound Sunday lunch outing. So I head on up to the house where Jean is waiting, with LisaAnne, his fiancée, Fina the maid, her husband Sen, the jardiniere, Rajesh, the pool attendant and Annan, Head of Security!!! Before doing the inventory introductions are made all round and it's time for me to make myself clear about where we all stand. Rajesh is easy as he's part of the deal and Jean pays him to come in six days a week, between four and six in the evening, to do the pool and then help Sen with whatever. Annan, my security chief is not actually an employee, he works for Jean otherwise and is on call to stay the night if I am away. On these occasions he's there six pm till six am, all for the princely sum of three hundred and fifty rupees, plus fifty for travel expenses (between eight and nine pounds a night). Jean is very concerned about the house being left unoccupied over night and I'm happy to concur to this arrangement, as we're not exactly talking about wallet busting sums here. When he's on duty Annan snoozes on the front verandah and is able to watch the telly in the pool shed, though calling it a 'shed' does not do the rotunda, edifice, structure, pavilion, whatever, justice.

Early morning sun slants across the breakfast table
 and on to the front of the house

The tricky ones are Fina and Sen as they've been working for Jean for over ten years, and get twelve thousand rupees a month between them. That's all very well and good when you're tidying up behind, and cooking for, a husband, wife and two teenage kids, but it's a different story when you're employee is a well trained bachelor who loves to cook for himself; though she can happily teach me Mauritian style... So I don't want, or need, them full time and I'm not paying them this amount out of sympathy. But I do need them part time and they are obviously very trustworthy and know all the ins and outs of the estate, so we take the middle line. As it is they are quite aware of the situation and are more then happy when I offer them six thousand (around a hundred and thirty pounds a month) to come in for four half days a week. Fina, nine till twelve, and Sen, four till six in the evening. So that's general cleaning, washing and ironing, gardening, and any other wee jobbies I come up with, taken care of. And I'm still thirty percent under my original, worst case scenario, budget! Boom Shanka. Jean, the fiancee and myself then do a swift inventory,I assure them that they'll get their money as soon as I receive it, and hey presto, I'm left, home alone. Beautiful! 
Tap dancing & Mosquitos

Satellite now connected, I feel a barbie for one
 coming on this Sunday as I watch Chelsea demolish Liverpool

As dusk advanced I meandered throughout my policies, looking in cupboards here, checking out the outdoor, subtly positioned lighting, there, settling on the throne and verifying it’s comfortability, knowing how much time I’ll potentially be occupying it, trying out the TV, though no channels of interest yet, until I subscribe to DSTV, the South African service available, dadeda. While getting to know my new home, being cost conscious, I was supping away at my fresh lime Daiquiris, as the local Green Island Superior Rum (recommended) costs one hundred and forty nine rupees, in comparison to imported spirits at over ten times the price. As sozzleness settled in I even started dancing around the estate, IPod on, engraining myself further. This is the first time I’ve truly bopped for years, except maybe at the twice annual golf club shindig back in RAK, when Heidi, the Norwegian chiropodist, and I, had to show up those big, rough, tough, macho, self conscious Bunny Rabbits. The ones dotted around the Ferret d’Or loudly listening to their own drivel, repeating the same crap as they’d come out with the day before, and the day before that, ad infinitum. I always find it amazing how people can hold the same conversations, generally the local gossip, time and time again, blissfully unaware that it is all repetition from the previous day’s drone! Of course I can get away with saying this, as if anyone happens to read it and take umbrage, then it can only be because they feel themselves a guilty party. Ha! During this time I happily ignored the mosquito’s eating me, as after the years of living in vans around the Mediterranean the bite doesn't bother me any more. But once I went to bed it was a very different story as the psychological factor does get me, and this time it wasn’t in mono, or even stereo, possibly not even quadraphonic. There was a fucking swarm in my bedroom and there was no way I could take that Chinese torture. So after two to three hours alcohol induced slumber I was up again and enjoying my space. Bzz, bzzzzz, bzzz, bzzzzzzzzzz, silence… Where is the fuck? ‘Slap’, on the neck, bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, again silence, aaarrgghhh. Of course you know what I mean.

Looking down from the volcanic rockery

The next day my money still had not arrived, but there is absolutely nothing I can do about it except wait, and Jean understands as he’s Mauritian, so knows the score. Early evening and Sen and Rajesh are up to their tricks, Jess, Pancho and Brenda are coming for Daiquiri Sundowners, but this time with a fresh strawberry number as an alternative. Sen is occupied raking up fallen leaves which had recently been attached to, possibly, one of my Mango trees, or otherwise one of my other arboreal varieties, yet to be identified. I need Davey Jones to emerge from his locker and get on the case, as he’s destined to be my advisor on all things nature orientated. Despite the fact he always performed miserably after choosing ‘Science & Nature’ as his specialist, for double points, topic in the monthly Ferret d’Or Quiz’s; painstakingly set and presided over by Moi! Interrupting Sen I mention one little problem we need to resolve… The kitchen tap, which is a good old fashioned, solid, heavy duty thing, seems to me, to be in need of a new rubber washer, as you turn it two twists anti clockwise to get it running, and then magically it needs sixteen twists clockwise to turn it off! Well this was my count prior to mentioning the dilemma to Sen. ‘No problem’ he says, or at least, a French variation, and gets on the case. I’m saying ‘No rush we’ll look at it tomorrow’, but no, he’s out to prove his worth. Spanners, hammers, screw drivers, etc, are supplied by Rajesh, when called for, the tap is dismantled, and after around an hour, with a slither of Phoenix beer can washer emplaced, the water is turned back on. Honest to God this is the truth! Two turns on and thirty four turns off. It’s a new world record! But, at least, having armed myself with three plug in mosquito, twelve hour, tablet numbers, I had a blissful six and a half hours sleep, without a chirp from any visiting enemy Stukas.