I’ve been motivated to write this post by my internet and phone connection all abruptly cutting out at once, one of the many downsides of being held hostage by a company that practically has a monopoly on all forms of island telecommunication. Whilst this isn’t the worst thing ever (yes, yes, no one has died), it IS legitimately annoying and even unnerving to be involuntarily cut off from the rest of the world. How did people do this back in pre-internet, pre-mobile times?

Still, I’m trying to look on the bright side. There are plenty of things I can do whilst in my own little island of silence. Sure, I can’t phone up my friends to meet for a drink, but it’s perfectly acceptable island behaviour to just turn up to a bar by yourself – nine times out of ten you will bump into friends who are already there anyway. However, as I am trying to be “good”, going drinking on a school night probably isn’t the best idea. In the islands there are many occasions to go out drinking: birthdays, charity events, Tuesday evenings, etc. Sometimes you have to be a bit more discerning so as not to end up a real life alcoholic.

I could go out and get some exercise, like hiking out to the point at Brewer’s Bay or going swimming down in Cane (a beautiful turquoise bay a mere 5 minutes from my house). However, there are some pretty ominous clouds lurking on the horizon, which make the prospect of being in the great outdoors decidedly unappealing. Can you tell I’m spoiled by the island weather? All it takes is for the wind to pick up ever so slightly and the temperature to drop below 70 degrees and suddenly all of us island girls are grabbing the nearest hoody, shivering, and complaining about the “cold”.

Feeling a bit put out, I decide to allow myself a moment to reminisce about all the things I miss about living in civilization with a sturdy infrastructure: zero to none power cuts; a gas supply connected to the mains; closed sewage system; polite customer service on the odd occasion that things do go wrong; and a phone network that doesn’t go down for 5 hours at a time. But then, I suppose I would miss out on the fun that can be had in a big storm when the power goes out and everything is illuminated by candle light and the forked flash of lightning out at sea. Or that time once during a dinner party when the gas ran out and we finished cooking everything off on the BBQ, sitting out on the deck under the stars. Or the time when I was forced to take a break from the world and focus on my own thoughts and write them down.

I guess this isn’t such a bad price to pay for living in paradise.