Sunday Ashore

Our Sunday on Palmerston
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Bill and Nagariki came to pick us up at eight thirty. On the way to the house Bill showed us the island cannon, Bear’s trigger finger was at it before I could say pose. Bill told us that the parson was sick, sadly, no church service.
 
 
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Caroline in her Sunday best. I found Bill alarming in his pinny. Nurse-like with his belt on, oh how Bear clashes. Sunday here on the island is strictly observed as a day of Mass, feasting and rest, no music, no television. Mum led a house service as there was no church, then there was lunch.
 
 
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Once again Juliana worked her young magic. Rose settled Sarah (Arthur’s mum) in her best Sunday hat, who sat next to Mum (Inano). Arthur was next to me. Many pots were brought to the table, Grace was said. I have to say it was the first time in my life I have ever sat down to Sunday dinner at half past ten in the morning.
 
 
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An enormous pile of lamb chops and coleslaw, Bear of course dug in and filled his plate.
 
 
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Metz served fish.
 
 
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Pudding at eleven o’clock was a bit hard to get down with the smell of fish.
 
 
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Bear smiled as usual throughout. Metz was most insistent that we go to the guest room to sleep for the afternoon. We wanted everyone to do as they normally do and Arthur and the two mums settled to chat with us. A great afternoon of genealogy ensued. Arthur had cousins in New Zealand and Australia who had done a lot of research and produced hand drawn family trees. So interesting to find out that on Arthur’s male line there were distant relatives from both England and Scotland.
 
 
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Nagariki was first to go to sleep.
 
 
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Exhausted, Juliana was next.
 
 
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Metz settled in the yacht club.
 
 
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Bill slept for a while, then read in his hammock.
 
 
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Late afternoon and everyone was ready for a cup of tea. Arthur gave me a lecture on coconuts. He had been very diplomatic when I said I preferred Bounty Bar coconuts to the ones with lots of water and not much flesh. All these years I thought there were two different kinds.
 
 
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He said from now on an “old coconut would forever be called a Pepe coconut.” Now I know a young one has skinny meat and lots of water, an old one has lots of meat and contains milk and as it grows a root the shell fills with a pulpy baby that will feed the new plant as it takes root. It should be one root to one nut but there are always exceptions.
 
 
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Nagariki poses a double for me.
 
 
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A special mention to Arthur’s flip flops, that he declares have another five thousand miles tread left...........Time for Bill to take us home.
 
 
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No sooner than we saw Bill and Metz get back ashore than the wind went nuts.
 
 
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Within seconds the rain came so hard the island all but disappeared. Nothing for it but to hunker down and have a game or three.
 
 
 
 
 
 
ALL IN ALL AN INTERESTING DAY
                     PRIVILEGED TO BE PART OF THEIR DAY OF REST