Granny is recovering from her insomnia, thanks to all the advice. She's grateful.
Also very pushed for time - heading back to UK on Wednesday on family business. And trying to get another chapter of Going Mental together (not yet done) and set up a wi-fi system here (failed so far.) Growl.
She has had time for a little play though. On the other side of this island -the side that is sunny at this - trade winds - time of the year, sparkling blue sea, clear sky, all the cliches of perfection, unlike here which remains under a belt of cloud - there is a long established naturist colony. It was started by Germans, Granny doesn't quite know when; there's no beach, but good flat rocks for sunning naked bodies on. At some point they built a small tourist complex, with houses, swimming-pools, a supermarket, the odd restaurant, but nothing more. The country round is empty of development, and the place hard enough to find, no signs anywhere pointing to it. Naturists believe in discretion, probably with good reason. A year or two back, the two mayors of the two boroughs it straddles decided to develop the whole area; locals and naturists alike objected. Some naturists, interested in more than one kind of natural history, discovered that a rare anti-cancer plant grew on this empty land. The development was promptly aborted. The greedier of the two mayors dispatched a party to pull up the plants on his side of the border. This got him nowhere; the perpetrators were brought to court accused of wanton damage - not the mayor, unfortunately, though attempts are being made to get him for other developmental abuses. Naturists and locals 1: developers:0. GOOD.
Granny had never visited the place before Saturday. But she has a writer friend staying on her island, a member of her writer's group. Writer is self-styled sexpert, dispenses sensible - and sometimes very explicit, not to say racy - sexual advice in all directions: her adventures in trying to insure 300 vibrators over the telephone are worth hearing. Granny can't find the link, unfortunately
Currently the sexpert is writing a piece on naturists. Hot from a naturist disco in London, (Granny has interesting visions of people bopping with no clothes on - does everything swing in rhythm she wonders?) she booked on a naturist tour to the island's resort. Granny would love to describe her friend's observations on that at greater length, but she doesn't care to nick other writers' material; enough to say that the man leading the group should not have been allowed near any such place - or women for that matter; claiming that he was only a naturist because he liked looking at naked women..... enough said. Her writer friend will not be writing favourably about him. Good.
No, Granny kept her clothes on. Lopsided as she is, she would, she fears, make even the naturists blench; no Wok Gong on earth could come up with any means of making this ageing body look good naked. The much younger, thinner, far-from lopsided and very pretty writer kept her clothes on too, for granny's benefit. Noone else did though. Granny was happy to that see the nudity on offer all belonged to people of certain age and very uncertain shape. It would have done little to titillate the voyeuristic tour leader, any more than it titillated her. GOOD.