The Jarmins

As time goes by, it’s the little things that make all the difference. This afternoon I spoke to my sister on FaceTime and ranted about the ineptitude of certain individuals back in the UK. You know, the ones who should have some semblance of knowledge about their job… government employees. The worst of the worst. The ones that, because its not on the script, then you must be wrong. I fucking hate them. Anyway, as i said its the little things. As i finished ranting to my sister, i thought I spotted a fish pop it’s head up in the bay. Well, fuck me if it wasn’t the bloody sea turtle I’ve heard about for years but have never had the pleasure of meeting. 

She popped up for a breather and waved a fin at me. She did, she waved at me as if she knew i was on the brink of an eruption. I followed her as she frolicked in the water about five meters from me. She swam hither and tither and just took the piss. I was mesmerised for about twenty minutes and she really calmed my anger toward the thick cunt who had wound me up earlier. Bless her.

Let’s steer away from government stupidity for a while and concentrate on my escapades in the sun. This morning was a ridiculously early start for anything, let alone diving. (I haven’t seen the sticky end of eight o’clock in the AM for ages.) We met at seven forty five and all i could think about was a coffee before i spoke to anyone. That didn’t happen. AND it was a boat dive (you know how much i look forward to those things) I didn’t disappoint. The dive was relaxing and calm, no horrid swell or undercurrent to drag me off to the airport ( that’s a different story for another day) My buddy partner was a young German lad who was actually quite good at swimmin underwater. What he was shite at was when we got back on board the boat. The captain and the dive guides et al, new what i was gonna do. I threw my head over the side and fed the fish. It’s a routine I’ve managed to devise all by myself. 

As i died a little, again, i noticed the Jarmin had caught a pallid scenic green colour around his gills. Of course my sympathy bone had been chucked up with me supper from last night so i just tried my best to get him to accompany me feeding the wildlife… bastard, he didn’t. He didn’t want to look weak in front of the Brit. I didn’t care, i was arse up face down watching my stomach content punctuate the waves. I turned around and looked like some vagrant on the streets of New York. Sick down my Chin, snot from my nose mixed with blood from my fucked up septum. I’ve looked better, but he resisted like a nazi war criminal at the Nuremberg trials. I bet his grandad flew Messerschmitt 109s.