There's a bus party of locusts masquerading as pensioners staying at my hotel. It's best to keep out of their way. They bag the best seats in the lounge and clog up the bar, but breakfast is the scariest time. The restaurant opens 15 minutes earlier just for them. Don't stand in the way when the doors open or you'll get trampled to death under the soft squelch of Dr Scholl's medicinal crepe soled comfort sandals or swept along on the crest of a blue rinsed wave of lavender water.
Serving themselves at the buffet is a long practiced art. Two plates each and they still have a free hand (how does that work?) to shovel up sausage, bacon and eggs while hubby gets the orange juice and ribena.
If you're not quick enough you'll get elbows in the stomach, kidneys or more tender regions. No mercy.
Wee Jeanie is the one to avoid, 4 ft 10 of wrinkles and sinews with elbows sharp enough to inflict punctures on Pirelli dump truck tyres. She's meaner than a bad tempered, hungover Scroot with a smile that would melt steel - and leaves you doubting your senses. Such a sweet old lady wouldn't do a thing like, would she? Oh yes she would,
And so to Scrutineering - after scraping the ice of the windscreen, but what a glorious start to the day. Sunshine is sweeping across the island like ice cream cuddling a hot apple pie. As for getting news out during the course of the weekend, that will depend entirely on the availability of telephone signals.
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