…after months of sunshine, I can’t help but feel a little smug that this time next week I’ll be sipping booze from coconut shells and feasting on fresh fish, in Fiji. Yes siree. That little hut right there could well have a whole lotta ME in it! Hurrah!
Obviously I’ll also be failing miserably to suck in the muffin top that may or may not have baked above my bikini bottoms lately as a result of my own laziness and swivel-chair-to-restaurant lifestyle, but as long as I’m sucking it on a sun-bed, I’m fine with that. (Sucking myself, obviously. I mean… god that sounds just as bad, but you know what I’m trying to say).
I’ve always wanted to go to Fiji. I actually had some crazy idea a while back that one day I’d get married there with a little furry monkey as a ring-bearer and a parrot on my shoulder, trained to squawk our first song. A crowd of my nearest and dearest would look on beneath a sky of birds-egg blue and smile, thinking, we always knew she’d do it, and then we’d all dance away the evening on the sand, surrounded by more overly-intelligent animals and a big cheese fountain. We’d dip the fresh fish into the cheese fountain of course. No matter where I get married eventually (if it ever happens) there will most definitely be a cheese fountain involved. This has always featured in my wedding dreams… always. Without fail. So has karaoke. In fact, this could well be the reason I’m still single, when I think about it. If a potential partner is not put off by my unhealthy appetite for cheese, he’s bound to run a mile when I mention singing animals and karaoke… and weddings for that matter.
But you know what, I don’t think you should ever sacrifice your dreams. Even if I’m scandalously poor and can’t afford any other food at my wedding, or decorations, I’ll just get the cheese fountain delivered and get my guests to bring their own crackers. And we’ll sing by the light of a Fijian moon… and say “Bula” a lot. And admittedly, most people will regret flying all that way when they realise we could have done the same thing in a community hall in Bethnal Green, but hey, you only get one wedding day. Or do you? Actually, most people get more than that these days… ok so maybe I’ll do Bethnal Green for the first one and then have my real wedding, to the RIGHT person, in Fiji. Two weddings, two cheese fountains. Works for me.
I digress. I am really looking forward to Fiji. We leave bright and early on Saturday morning and are spending seven glorious nights in the Yasawa Islands, which is a broken up mass of volcanic surface to the right of the mainland – slightly further away from the bit where all the piss-heads go to drink kava and pretend watered down, overpriced cocktails are exactly what they came for. It’s also quite comforting to know that these particular volcanic peaks are quite dormant, so there’s to be no ash-cloud (imaginary or otherwise) putting a dampener on my plans to do absolutely bugger all for a week.