Check in. Wander the palm-lined streets. Pass grand Queen Anne houses, sleepy Eyebrow and Cigar houses, bookshops, art galleries, 70s gay haunts - long gone. Stop for Cuban coffee on Duval Street. Sit outside. In the sun. Plan how we can move here. Head for the dock. Watch sun-roasted fisherman feed discarded fish to a flock of hungry pelicans. Lunch at the Half Shell Raw Bar; oysters, Yellowtail Snapper, Key Lime Pie. Back to the guest house. Laze by the pool, surrounded by young, in love, gay boys. The next generation. Why would we want to go back to London? To the awful weather. The nightmare tube. Oh yeah. Because wed max out our credit cards in a month. Cest la vie.
Posted on: Mon, 15 Dec 2014 21:32:57 +0000
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