Jack and Drew

Parental Advisory - In order to tell the following story it is necessary to use large amounts of strong language and frequently mention drinking smoking and generally doing all the things that make people bad and evil. Consequently if you are:
a) younger than say sixteen
b) a relative who thinks i'm a wholesome person
c) easily upset by wickedness and bad spelling
d) all of the above
It would probably be best of you didnt read this post and wait till the next one, which will be good and nice... Probably. Thanks for your attention.

Drew coughes and passes me the joint, i take it gratefully and lean back. The American laughes and continues his story in his loud and brash style.
"So it's like my first week here and i've got to get to St Johns for something, i'm walking down the road and i see the drive off ahead of me. I want that bus man i dont wanna fucking wait around so i start running"
Jack laughes at this, he is stoned and seems to have been laughing constantly for at least half an hour, so it would be more acurate to say he laughes more at this.
"You ran for a bus? You? Run? No way!"
"Hey fuck you bitch i'm in prime shape" Drew shouts back, he is though a firefighter in the US he is working a season in Antigua as a deckhand/day worker/self confessed whore of the industry. At 6'2", broud shouldered and bronzed for working outside he looks strong. His air of american fratboy type confidence that makes him look invincible.
"Anyway i'm running and it's like fucking midday so it's deadly hot... Shit pass the rum already whats wrong with you?"
"finish the story then you can have rum" Jack shouts back. He is a drifter he got a degree in Literature four years ago and has done little since then. Mid height but stocky he looks as strong as Drew but being English lacks the chamed energy of his flatmate. He relents and pours a rum whilst Drew continues.
"Thank you man, anyway yeah so i'm running and this guy is sat outside his hut. You know how they do here, they just sit. As i run past him he yells out
'Woah, woah, woah there is no running in Antigua'"

We all collapse into giggles and knock back more rum. We are drunk and stoned, four of us sat inside being raucous. Infront of us sits a table covered with the paraphernalia of revelry, empty beer bottles, discarded bits of citrus fruit an ask tray overflowing with cigarette butts and assorted litter. Looses tabacco and ask lightly dust everything.

Antigua is all about three things: Sailing, Intoxication and Inactivity. Everyone wants a job on a boat so they can buy more rum so they can do nothing but get drunk.

I'm off to Saba in a few days to learn to dive. Then i'm coming home. I'll be back in scotland by the 21st, which I cant decide if i'm happy about or not. Its a fact, i'm pretty ambivilent towards coming home. Yeah i'm tired of travel and bored, but i know Scotland is hardly the promised land in January. So we'll just have to wait and see. Patience.