I hadn't intended to walk so far, but as the tide was low, it was possible to reach the southern end of the island where the early morning sun was peeking round the rocks. I thought I was going to be in trouble when I got back, but Mrs M was just about ready for breakfast.
After receiving a few bites on the beach yesterday, Mrs M spent the first part off the morning lubing herself like a cross-channel swimmer with homemade sand fly concoction (click here for the recipe) and suncream. The oily overspray from the sand fly lotion landed on the bathroom floor which made it more slippy than an ice rink and positively lethal during a shower.
Once again I wandered off like a naughty child as Mrs M settled on the beach with her Kindle and supporting paraphernalia. I found a small plastic chair on which to sit while scribbling the tree house near the Aseania. The house has been constructed out of bits of driftwood, rope, buoys, fishing nets and a few blue banners and flags from the main political party contesting the election next month.In the late afternoon, the sky began to darken over the mainland and flashes of lighting streaked across the sky. As I started another doodle on the balcony of our hut, the gardeners shattered the silence with strimmers that filled the air with choking petrol fumes, adding to the smell of burning palm branches coming from further down the beach. Even paradise needs a bit of maintenance, I suppose.
Strong gusts of wind arrived as the storm moved eastwards. A crew of maintenance staff had to be dispatched to secure the flapping corrugated sheeting on the roof of the shelter on the jetty. It was quite dramatic. Sitting on a Malaysian desert island beach on a muggy evening with a glass of beer or wine watching nature at work or sitting on the sofa watching banal, mind-numbing television programmes in Singapore. Let me think….
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