A lazy day today.
Well, lazy for the Chief Security Officer. The Head Gardener helped Larry clean his windows, of which there seem to be hundreds-small panes in difficult to reach places with inappropriate tools. Larry ended up gaffer-taping a squeegy -whatsit to a long pole. He's afraid of heights and Rhys isn't so no prizes for guessing who went up the ladder. Not the maid, Marcelia, that's for sure. It looks like she rarely washes or cleans anything properly. I offered to dust Larry's treasures but he said Marcelia does that-every other week-and they're covered in the stuff. I don't think she's done them for a few weeks. Here, hark at me! You can see how easily I've taken to this life of luxury.
I broke the news to Larry this evening. Before the boys washed the windows. I thought it best to get it out of the way. Just in case we had to leave sharpish. ' Didn't want Rhys to have spent all that energy for nothing. Anyway, I asked him how he'd feel if we were to leave early. I explained that I'm a trustee of UNA Exchange and would like to visit projects run by Natate Voluntariado International, a Mexican partner organisation based down south in San Cristobal de las Casas, that we work closely with in promoting vounteering in Mexico and in Britain.
He didn't bat an eyelid.
'That's absolutely fine. No problem at all. San Cristobal is my most favourite place in Mexico,' he said. 'When you wanna go?'
'He's probably glad that he can sleep in his own bed again and have his house to himself,' Rhys said to me privately, while Larry was washing his clothes. There's not enough pressure in his friend's place so he calls by about once a week to use his washing machine and even rings the bell. I open the door to him as if I'm the lady of the house and he's the guest.
'That would work well, as the jack hammer should be finished by then and I can call in to see how the septic tank work is progressing. Oh, and I've got a friend staying on May 1st, so....'
'So, he probably can't wait to get rid of us,' I said to Rhys. 'In fact, we may have already outstayed our welcome. '
'He's not wanted to disappoint us, has he? What a sensitive chap'
'The Archangel of San Miguel de Allende?'
'We've not gone yet,' Rhys said. 'There's still another eight days.'
'Yes, you're right. A lot could happen before then.'
Take this afternoon, for example, when we were walking through the car park of Pollos Felix. On Wednesdays Mr Chicken dinners are half price. In the rush of hungry diners a shiny Chevvie reversed into Rhys who was distracted by a Vermillion Flycatcher he'd just seen fly past. Fortunately, I pulled him away-just in time- before he was raw material for a Mr Chicken dinner.
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