Differences between glasses and shoes

My favourite lunch bistro, and the best and cheapest in town is called HotHotSpot. Might not sound particularly local nor charming but it is, the name is even very precise. Every decent place in English Harbour has got wifi, some of them even outlets for those who wear the most common suit, desktop under the arm, flip flops on the feet.
At HotHotSpot they play Air by J.S. Bach as well.
An elderly gentleman sat next to us with a newspaper and a soup, he just finished. He did wear shorts like everybody else, but only because of the heat, surely not because he liked shorts.
- Enjoy your lunch.
He was about to leave
- Thank you very much. Enjoy your afternoon, I said and hoped the chicken in my mouth was not too obvious.
A moment later he came back.
- Has anyone seen my shoes?
He bent down and looked under the tables.
- At home it's my glasses I look for. But you won't find any shoes on the table, won't you?
- Most of the time one doesn't need shoes here. I keep forgetting mine too, I said.
He smiled.
- I still prefer to look on your table, not under it.

Driving with Edgar

I'm not sure I can manage to keep to the left as they do here in Antigua. So I've decided to drive with Edgar when the bus doesn't agree with where I'm going.
Edgar is a careful driver. It's very pleasant to sit at the backseat, sometimes in my own world, sometimes in his. In the frontwindow he has a little flag, green and yellow, for Dominca. What ever I see through the window, I see it together with the flag. I see mongooses, donkies, the bay, the hills, a child in a garden, perhaps its mother leaning against the balustrade.
- You won't regret it if you go there. Very lush. So green. Fruit trees everywhere. All kinds of fruit. Coconuts, bananas, mangos, lots of mangos.
We pass through the sunburned landscape, reach a village just outside English Harbour.
Cars are parked in both sides of the street, a crowd slowly enters the church, nicely dressed people, some have just arrived and kiss hello to the right and the left, others finish a cigarette just outside the entrance. The sun breaks through the cloudes.
- There will be a lot of drinking tonight, Edgar says.
- It's a wedding, right?
I lean to the side, hoping to get a glance of the bride. I once sneaked in at a wedding in Italy. It was one of the most touching weddings I've ever been to.
- No, it's a funeral. After the church they will meet somewhere and have a party. They will drink all night.

The lady and the guide

We went for a walk, followed the shape of the island and ended at the old Fort Berkeley, once guarded the entrance to Nelson's Dockyard, now a good place to sense the wildness of a breeze from the Atlantic Ocean. It's a ten minutes walk from the harbour, no climbing, just a hill with a busy goat now and then. A lady with a singing man passed us on the way back. He wore a yellow t-shirt like guides sometimes do. He sang a little of Michael Jackson, answered a question, sang a little of Bob Marley.
- Funny place to bring a guide, I said to my son.
- Do you think she hired him?
- Well, I don't think he hired her, I said.
- Of course not.
He turned around and glanced at the couple, still a child, curiosity comes first.
- Maybe she didn't hire a guide. I think she hired a radio.