That Sinking Feeling

Amongst this week's more notable accomplishments are a Parrot Care leaflet I am finally happy with, and the much awaited installation of a shiny new concrete sink for my outdoor food prep.

The leaflet has been a monumental struggle. For a wordy body like me to cram 1500 words of 'look after your parrot, you moron' into a readable A4 tri-fold plus pictures, was somewhat painful. I cheated and used Legal, which gave me a precious extra few inches (yes, size does matter), and cut out some of the pictures and a lo-ot of text. What remains is a shadow of its former self, but this version stands a fighting chance of getting printed and actually being read (as opposed to the War & Peace version that required a wheelbarrow to distribute). I shall now test my webs skills by attempting to add a download-able version to the website.

The sink was entirely Jerry's struggle. For a very reasonable sum, we acquired one of those charmingly rustic 3-basin concrete sinks from the local concrete chappy. With unsurpassed ingenuity, several planks of wood and a neat little wheely-thing, we managed to wrestle the 4-ton monstrosity onto the back of the truck. It wasn't until we were halfway home that we began to question how we were going to get it off again. Our immediate thoughts are unprintable. It finally took 4 men, a block and tackle, a very sturdy orange tree and a lot of testosterone-laden grunts to swing it into place; and amazingly, with no raised voices and minimal bad language. I am now equipped to chop, scrub and distribute outdoors. Look at us: more and more like a real rehab centre every day.

Speaking of 'centre' I had an enlightening moment last week. I am lucky enough to enjoy the company of a wonderful band of ladies who comprise the Belmopan International Women's Group exec committee. At our last meeting the question of spelling was raised. Do we 'ize' or 'ise'? Are we a 'centre' or a 'center'?? Since first settling in the Caribbean 10 years ago, I have hung furiously onto my British spelling roots, despite the Americanisms (izms??) surrounding me. To actually hear a born and bred Belizean proclaim 'we were born of the British system, we spell the British way' gave me renewed courage of my convictions, just as I was about to succumb to pressure. Until I hear a directive from the Prime Minister to the contrary, a Centre we shall be (and that red line on this blogging programme can just jolly well check off)