Minority report

01/10/25

Cyprus/ 2025/ English/ young/ all facilities available to my soul… and yet I feel like a fucking minority (oh, and white Christian straight male).  Looking around the local eatery, you have… well… locals (it IS their place after all). Old (nay) ANCIENT fucking grits smelling of formaldehyde and rose hip toilet water shoes faces are filled with as many crevasses as there are present on an ordinance survey map of the Pennines banging on about how lovely the coffee is and how warm the blanket over their knees are. They just won’t die, but I know I’m gonna piss the bloke off when I ask him to move his arse as he is taking up two tables and four chairs in his slovenly attempt to look like he rules the roost. 

Oh Christ, I’ve attained their addled attention as I sit here and sip me shandy. They’re making eye contact as they him a tuneless tomb that probably sounds good in their heads. Shit… they’re mental!!

Oh well, another glance at the clientele and I see couples playing some sort of local domino’s, or baccarat or othello (what the fuck is the name of that game with black and white discs with dice?)

Looking on.. the air is tinged with death and shit (probably from the old cunts who probably think they are sitting on a warm pillow back home)  I hear bullet points only/ that building work is making the place look horrible, the wind is too cold, I wish I was dead (I may have made that last bit up but why would you want to live to an age where the fucking wind upsets you?) fuck! The bloke has just got out a set of car keys!!! I hope he has careered down the road dragging pedestrians along out of my way before I set off.

Anyhoo, no diving today, even thought I have new boots and wetsuit to try out (I can’t use my old set… I’m fat as fuck from 12 years ago). Waves are crashing, visibility is down to an arm (that’s not far) I was supposed to be doing a shore dive but even that has been kyboshed. The couple I dived with the other day had a two tank boat dive booked today for the son’s birthday… good luck with that. 

The old girl is still happy in her head, lah lah lahing away like a good in. Aha! The international sign for the bill, they are going. And not a moment too soon. They’ve gone… tik ten minutes to sort their shit out, but the table is now clear for normal folk to sit and eat (not through straws or from a mincer) all is quiet again, no smell, no hums just locals plotting my death and burial.