This is today's second entry. On St. Helena, people I don't know phone and invite me for a meal. Or start chatting in the street and offer a cup of tea. The Bishop of St. Helena does just that and we pass an hour in the cafe overlooking the castle gardens, residence of a very comfortable cat.
In the same place, I also talk with the Attorney General (remember, the population is tiny).
Here are Cliff, Delia and Goosey, their twenty year old blind goose.
Cliff is Canadian, living on the island since 1967, and Delia is a Saint. They ask me to their home for lunch. We eat looking out on the view you can see below.
Val (holding an Arum Lilly, the island's 'national' flower) spots a tourist on a walk. She invites me for tea in Jamestown.
Some delightful, talkative ladies at a small (and I do mean small) store. Although one may look a little severe, she's of the island generation when posing was serious stuff. Anyway, the store owner, Beverley, insists on giving me freshly picked fruit to take back to the hotel.
Here's a large part of her store.
Rodney, who I meet quite by chance, spends time one evening telling me about island history.
'Buffalo' (his real first name is Raymond) tells me about island nicknames. His comes from a childhood habit of charging around with head down. Others include Piece-of-Cake and Fishcake. I quite like ‘Bite the dog,’ but haven't had a clear explanation.
Developed in isolation, island speech is also intriguing, if often incomprehensible. Here are some easier sayings: ‘Who you is?’ (What’s your name?) ‘Where’s he done gorn? (Where’s he gone?) ‘Speak tidy!’ (Speak properly)
This is ‘Booby Goose,’ well known publican and entertainer. I have his idiosyncratic, homemade CD. Tracks include ‘Stoned at the Jukebox,’ ‘The Twist’ and ‘South African Tune.’
As do many Saints, Deborah spent years working off the island. Her features mix the backgrounds - European, black and white African, Chinese, Malay - that make up islanders.
Richard and Sylvia, another couple who've made me feel so welcome.
After the voyage and a few days on the island, I now walk up Main Street, recognizing a fair number of people who then stop to talk. Not because they feel obliged, but because they want to.
I've learned that you wave to every oncoming car and, better still, call out 'hello' as you draw near. Parked and looking at the scenery, a passing driver brakes and asks if I'm all right. Mind you, given my car’s angle (and this isn't the worst, by far), that’s perhaps understandable ...
I've learned that you wave to every oncoming car and, better still, call out 'hello' as you draw near. Parked and looking at the scenery, a passing driver brakes and asks if I'm all right. Mind you, given my car’s angle (and this isn't the worst, by far), that’s perhaps understandable ...
