Island talk.

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I've been lying in bed now that the days all spent. I've got a cold bottle of ginger beer with me - how lame is that, and I can sense a thunder storm coming on. Now just dark clouds and bangings going on in the sky, but Lorraine being displeased with something I must have done. This island has gotten too small suddenly. It's all kite flying and jumping in rivers to cool off when there's a storm about to break. I'm the only one in my family who speaks English so at least I can develop a little world of my own that even my grandmother cannot penetrate. That's the one good thing that the hotel trade taught me before I quit. English. I hope it might be part of my ticket away from here - return ticket of course. Secretly I love this island.