Denham Forrest: Blog

Sometime I will try to get back to it and post it properly. Now please can I discover how these two get of this bleeding mountain.

Nothing I Can Do About It Now - Epilogue

By Denham Forrest, The Wanderer

Katie and our daughter, remained on the Island until it was time Kaye to return to School in the UK. But they returned for the Christmas school break, bringing Jean and Greg with them

Regrettably Kaye wasn't to get her much-wanted sibling, but it wasn't for the want of Katie and my trying.

I of course have lost my crown as chief philanderer of the island, and to be honest I can't say I miss it. Well, not very much anyway, just sometimes there's the odd temptation. But with Sis, Jaz and Phyllis around all the time (not to mention the Rev Killjoy) there's not much chance of me falling by the wayside.

Strangely Jimmy's bar has changed as well. Kaye's presence during the school holidays (and possibly Kattie's when she comes over with her) encouraged Mine host to spend some money and take the place up-market a little. It's now "Jimmy's bar and grill." Basically the same establishment, but having received a once-over, it's much more inviting for the tourists and their families.

Mind you, Jimmy is the money behind another small hangout type bar that has been built at the far end of the beach, to where all the less reputable customers and ne'er-do-wells appear to have been banished.

Sis is much happier now that she doesn't have to prowl around the bar in the evenings trying to trace the source of any strange odours. Jimmy of course has to briefly visit the establishment every evening to… check on his investment. Yea, you believe that, and you'll believe anything!

The islands two hotels are doing better than ever, almost all the year around. I'm not going to attribute that to Kattie and the Cartwright's subtle (but at the same time blatant) promotion of the island as a holiday destination among their friends and acquaintances; but I suspect it must have had a distinct influence.

By the way, Bill Cartwright is trying to talk me into going into partnership with him to build a small very exclusive millionaire type resort on my island. I gather that the local authorities are game, providing I will have the controlling interest. They trust my penchant for employing local staff and services. Having been bittern, by off-island big moneymen in the past, they are shy of outsiders like Bill.

My bungalow had to get the once-over, as well as an extension, for Kaye's bedrooms when she is on the island. Well if she doesn't arrive with Amanda Cartwright in tow, very often there are some other school friends with her, often both, if you get the idea. Two double bedrooms were eventually required. And of-course a telephone and the Internet. I've discovered up to six (off island) pubescent teenager girls receiving stern lectures Phyllis in my lounge some mornings. I just can't keep track of them all and I have to rely on Jasmine to play chaperone most of the time. I'm sure it must cramp the Jaz's style, considering her planned goal in life, but she never complains.

Katie has been hinting that once Kaye goes to university, she'll be moving her main residence to the island. Apparently Dog has advised her that it would be a very good tax move. And I have to wonder exactly how profitable that ruddy Gallery is. Jean is the manager there now, and by all accounts she's on a bloody good screw.

I have a lot of kind emails here that I really should be acknowledging. I have however read them all, thank-you.

But I also have another drunken ne'er-do-well, stuck high up on a mountain in Spain with an extremely disheveled looking Cinderella lookalike, who appears to be spoiling for a fight and I really can't wait to find out what happens next.

Yes, I really do not know. My characters decide how the story develops, I do not.

I'd like to thank everybody who has written to me about this story, and yes that does include those who griped about it as well. It's always pleasant to read comments, even the criticisms. And the complaints about miss-spellings.

But hey, I've never made a secret of the fact that I'm dyslexic, and I have been all my life; so if a spellchecker don't pick them up then there's sweet FA I can do about.

And please don't say proofreaders, I do have some and they work very hard, but they are unpaid so I can't fire them and they also have to deal with my love of own version of colloquial English. I'm just too old and ornery to conform.

Now I know some people are going to feel cheated that there isn't an Epilogue for this story. But actually there is, however it is incomplete at this time. Will I ever get back to it? I really do not know, because I've fallen into another -- what I thought was going to be short yarn -- that has been growing exponentially almost from moment I typed the first word. It has now developed into a series of five interconnected yarns following the life of yet another ne'er-do-well who has a propensity for a good pint of Best and enjoys a tot or two of the demon rum. This new exploit appears to have taken over my life at present. Hopefully it won't lie around on my harddrives as long as parts of Nothing I Can Do About Now did.

DC

Right, I should explain that yesterdays posting problem was down to a silly old fart suffering a senior moment. But once I realised what I was doing wrong I did put up three chapters as a form of recompense.

I'm not sure how many chapters I'll post today, because my mind keeps being drawn towards something new.

We appear appear to be suffering from recurrent short duration power outages this morning. Obviously something has been damaged on the local grid. I can't risk trying post while this continues.