After a day at the beach, we hopped into the Ford Transit (AKA Betty) to go home.
“Shall we talk about the tour tomorrow?” T asked. “You want to talk about the tour tomorrow, now? Ashely paused for a moment: “Okay, well let’s talk about it then” he replied.
“Have you had any thoughts about the route?” T asked. “Yeah. I was thinking we could start on that trail north of the island – you know the one – near Cala Xarraca? It’s got downhills, jumps – I think it will be pretty great for the Dutch guys.” “Yeah, that’s a good one” said T, mulling it over.
A few moments later: “But, it’s a bit too bushy in places I think.” “Bushy?” Ashley enquired. “Yeah, I mean it’s gonna be hard for the girl – I don’t think she’ll cope with it that well.”
Silence fell, with the only sound that of Betty gamely traversing the hills and winding roads taking us home.
I pulled open my window and the country side hummed past. Nothing on my mind, just sensations; a cloudless blue day, the anticipation of a minuscule cooling of the evening, gritty sand sticking to my feet and the faintest whisper of a breeze caressing my seawater tangled hair.
It all felt good and even more so at the thought of a cool drink, shower and dinner cooked for me by the boys once we arrived at Can Du.
I sat back on the soft dusty comfort of Betty’s backseat lap, shaking off my flip flops, wiggling my toes, brushing off the warm soles of my feet, and closed my eyes. Voices flitted about me, but day dreams led me to tall sturdy rocks that I bravely jumped off into cool turquoise depths – to resurface into the air, sun on my face, renewed, reinvigorated.
Voices and a slowing of our chariot woke me. “Do you want to go to Lidl – I need to turn here if you do?” Ashley asked. Betty swung her weight around into the hypermarket’s carpark and the cold blue and yellow sign brought me rudely to my senses. “No” said T. “We’ve got everything we need.”
We turned back towards the road again. It appeared a decision had been made about the tour and the conversation turned towards dinner. “Ashley’s making lentil gratin tonight – you up for that, S?” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world” I said.
One thought on “An ode to Betty”
Are you back in Ibiza yet again? Lucky, lucky you – we always loved Ibiza – were there several times. Maybe you are thinking of moving there permanently??? Lots of love, David and Hilda.
Date: Fri, 8 Aug 2014 08:51:27 +0000 To: email@example.com