(some of my grammar corrected)
Whilst sitting in a retro 60's Caribbean garden lounge chair, gazing over the blue of the ocean and above, the light puffy white clouds, an idea came to me, I should write a book. Why now on this August 25th 2011 on another gorgeous tropical morning? Here in our apartment, a three bedroom bungalow (come castle) nestled on the foothills of the St Lucian mountains (or very, very large hills), overlooking Gros-islet with the warm morning mixed in the cool humidity of last nights grassy mist.
I have pondered on something to do, other than delight in the sumptuous view across a deep green lush semi jungle urban country, across the marina, over the tall masts of the local yachts that have mustered in Rodney Bay for the local clubs, parties and bars that line this fun-loving partying Caribbean island of St Lucia.
My other task today, assigned by my gorgeous wife (Candi), is to buy a large fan for the living room, which has to be said, does get *bloody* hot, there is no other description, it get's frickin warm in the afternoon, on our roughly south-facing veranda, this new fan will save us loads of energy spending that normally could go on aircon to this simple device. So a large fan is the solution when sipping some cold ones. Apparently the fan I'm supposed to pick up today (and) according to one of wife's friends, never get's turned up to number three. Apparently it's a very powerful big fan and, because I suspect, it would just blow the back ass off the building and take you and the wall it's mounted on, to somewhere else.
So write a book, every beginning, I thought to myself, just starts with a few simple motions, the walking of a gazillion miles for instance, takes at least one rambling step in the general direction of the intended destination...
...when I have lived these many years here. I guess a book can be all in the title. I'll post a picture of the creation for the book title moment soon, 'bluegold', the explanation of the how the paragraph above came to be, and where I am still coming to terms with living in this surrounding island beauty, the miracle of being a father of my first son, a wonderful big baby named Josiah.
The story will follow in bluegold. The feeling of immense gratitude in travelling a lifetime to reach a paradise of spirit, heart and mind. Through a 40 year journey, born in a small overspill town, Hemel Hempstead, just north of London (United Kingdom), to this living moment in the warm tropical August of Bonneterre, St Lucia;
Imagine please, a 24 million carat gold bar, in the deepest luxuriant velvety blue you could dream up, that's bluegold. To me that simple visual image is Caribbean living, you of course need more details, so more to follow.
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