November 1st, 1989

November 1st, 1989

At home

I soon got bored sitting in my hotel room last night and with the commotion next door, I could barely hear the telly, so I went for a wander around the hotel and there, sitting in the lobby, was Carl.

“Sis!” he exclaimed, jumping up. “What are you doing here?”

“Probably the same as you,” I said, returning his hug.



“How much longer?” he asked.

“I finish tomorrow at noon.”

“Same here.”

“So we’re both stuck here,” I groaned.

“Yeah, but all is not lost,” he smiled.

I gave him a questioning look.

“We can’t leave the hotel but last time I checked there was a bar here.”

“Oh,” I said. “This will be a first.”

“What?” he asked.

“Us, together in a bar, drinking non-alcoholic beverages.”

“First time for everything,” he laughed.

“And probably the last.”

“Yeah, exactly, but before we overdose on sugary drinks, I need to pop up to my room.”

“Ok,” I said. “I’ll wait here for you.”

“I won’t be a minute, just need to grab some photos.”

“Of what?”

“My last trip.”

“Where were you?”

He grinned. “Banjul.”

“I’ve heard a few, eh, stories about crew shenanigans in that particular destination.”

He laughed. “I’m not saying a word, you can decide for yourself after you see them.”


Unruly, corybantic and riotous. And that’s putting it mildly.


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