The Aftermath...

Dear All,

Just a wee postcard from Sri Lanka for you...

Ah well, you were all wondering, weren't you: will she, won't he, will he, won't she? Well, we did. And it was beautiful, and when I get back from Sri Lanka, you will hear all about it, and I may even upload a few photos so you can finally get to see what Agnes Mildew, Charles Parsnip and Daughters #1 & #2 look like...If you want...

So, here we are in the Mount Lavinia Hotel, Sri Lanka. I was somewhat perturbed a few weeks ago, to know that our honeymoon was here, as in February there were a few problems, what with the Tamil Tigers kicking off and deciding to blow up a public transport bus not far from our hotel, killing a number of civilians. Hmm...that is what had put me off coming here with The Ex some years ago. But, ever the trooper, I was determined not to let a few terrorists intimidate Agnes Mildew-Parsnip this time!

We left Manchester on Sunday morning in a flurry of late spring snow. We had both dressed for the prospect of warmer climes and thus, when Mr P suggested a final cigarette outside the airport terminal, I, in my ignorance of the lack of designated smoking areas, declined, preferring the warmth indoors. I was most distressed, after check-in, to discover that a very long, nicotine-free nine hours lay ahead of me, and got somewhat mardy at one point...

The flight itself was very uneventful, excepting the exchange of foodstuffs between me and Mr P. I no longer eat any other meat but fish and the only options were lamb or chicken. So Mr P had my chicken (from Business Class, as Camel Class had run out), his own chicken, and I had two salads and two smoked salmons. He also had two cheesecakes. And two biscuits and cheese. And two bread rolls. Is he carrying twins, I wonder?

Our stopover was in Dubai airport - a place I am very familiar with, due to my sojourns in the Middle East. Indeed, arriving in the Irish Village (the airport pub) was like being home from home. We were a bit fuddled with the time difference, and Mr P started to get agitated by my blasé attitude towards making the gate exactly 37.63 minutes before take-off. I have a more Middle Eastern IBM attitude - In sh'Allah Bukrah Mumkin (Tomorrow, God Willing, Perhaps, if you care to...) and thus ambled along to gate 53. Which happened to be the wrong gate, approximately half a mile in the wrong direction.

Mr P turned a strange shade of red, refused to talk, look at me, or breath properly and strode out like a man possessed towards the correct gate. I hopped and capered alongside him, making reassuring coo-ing noises, telling him things would be fine.

It didn't wash...At all...

I won't describe our first 'discussion' as husband and wife, but suffice it to say, I won.

And so we arrived here, and haven't we done well for ourselves? The Mount Lavinia Hotel is a fine specimen of Colonial architecture and we happily ensconced ourselves in what the Brits abroad do best - bugger all: drinking, eating and getting sunburned.



Mr P is mortified to discover that the Asiatic Crows are so bloody cheeky and will blatantly dive-bomb you as you partake of breakfast to nick your toast and marmalade, and he was horrified when one sat upon his clean shorts and emptied its bowels. I suggested to him, in between bouts of hysteria, that it was either a very poorly bird, or someone had emptied a pot of muesli yoghurt onto his kecks.

He didn't see the funny side...

I, on the other hand, thought it hilarious, and that is because he wet his pants laughing when a pigeon plopped on my head during our four day break to Barcelona (first time round), two years ago. Revenge is sweet, Mr P. So, so sweet...

We haven't done anything but sit around the pool, talk rubbish, read books and buy gorgeous Sri Lankan jewels. Well, I have snuck off to buy jewels, but don't tell my new husband that. He must never know, OK?

So, he is currently pushing out the zeds as he has had such a hard day of it, sheltering from the tropical storm we have experienced, drinking red wine, reading his strange Sci-Fi novel which looks like something to come as a free gift with the Sunday Express, and eating Tandoori Chicken butties. Ah me...such is life.

The hardest part is to ring daughters #1 & #2 up tonight and ask if their day has been as good as ours...

Will keep you all posted!

Wish you were here *ahem*

Agnes x