Friday, 19 October 2018
Englishman in Dubrovnik Englishman in Dubrovnik

Home Alone – the Dubrovnik sequel

By  Aug 06, 2016

I have ruined a shirt, burnt two saucepans, lost the keys, stuffed myself on pizza and gorged myself on action movies. Yes, you have guessed it I am home alone!

Once again I am Kevin McCallister alone in a big house all on my own. The only difference is that I am not defending myself from burglars, just mosquitoes. Come to think of it I don’t seem to find myself Home Alone very often. Could it be that my wife loves me so much that she doesn’t want to leave me? Or maybe she doesn’t think I can survive on my own? Let’s hope it is a combination of the two.

When I say Home Alone that isn’t strictly true. Every night I am having a bed full of friends! And before you start getting the wrong idea, these friends are man’s best friends, my two dogs. In fact I probably have more room in my bed when my wife is here...less dogs. I guess they feel sorry for me, all on my own some, and have decided o comfort me.

Generally I enjoy my own company; in fact I really enjoy my own company. We always seem to have the complete opposite of Home Alone – “Full House.”

But the problem with being alone is that I start doing wacky things, probably because I have lost my rudder. My compass is spinning around all over the place and my once structured life is now chaos system. I forget to eat. There was one day last night when I woke up starving hungry, “What did I eat today,” I asked the pair of blinking eyes lying next to me. He looked back as if to say, “go back to sleep.” Instead of eating at regular times I only eat when I’m hungry, if I don’t feel hungry I don’t eat. However I have managed to destroy two saucepans, one looks like a Picasso painting and the other an atomic explosion with the additional bonus of some of my finger skin.

Realising I was running low of supplies I headed for the supermarket. Half an hour later and my three bags were full. It wasn’t until I got home and unloaded them that I saw the horror of a man going food shopping. I had nothing green in any of the bags. Nothing resembling anything healthy at all, no fruit, no vegetables, nothing that had actually been grow! I had tonnes of red meat, like half a cow. Junk food, sauces, crisps, chocolate, cereals, M&Ms (of course), peanuts, biscuits, a frozen pizza, dog food (not for me) and for some unknown reason an extra large family-pack of chewing gum, I don’t even remember picking that one up. I had cereal but no milk! Half a cow, and probably most of a pig, and yet no vegetables, not even one solitary potato.

To say that I have been eating sporadically and one-dimensionally would be an understatement. At least I am getting vitamin D from the sun and an overload of vitamin B from all the red meat, although my coronary veins are probably slowly closing.

And then, quite out of the blue, came an unusual request. “Can you go to the Rixos hotel and write a report about their breakfast?” I only had one question, “do I get to eat a breakfast?“ I heard, somewhere in the distance, “of course” as I rushed to phone the hotel. “Can you come at 8.30am,” said the voice at the other end of the phone. “I can come tonight and wait,” is what I wanted to say.

I was there at 8.20 the next morning, oh man was I hungry. Well not particularly hungry, just in need of something that had been grown in soil. I met the hotel representative and we sat down for a coffee. Unfortunately right in my eye line was a chef! And not just any chef, the fruit chef, I’m not even sure that there is such a thing as a fruit chef. But this guy was slicing up ripe watermelons, dicing grapefruit, peeling oranges and halving pineapples right in my eye line.

As hard as I tried to concentrate on the attractive lady in front of me and her PR talk about the hotel all I could see was the fruit juice running down the knife. I was in love with a grapefruit. He slowly skinned a melon, the peel falling to the chopping board, this was fruit porn!

Every inch of my body craved fruit, all of it. “Would you like to join me for breakfast,” I think she got to “join me” and I was already out of my chair. Destination fruit bar, mission – grab as much as possible. The fruit mountain on my plate grew until snow formed on the upper slopes. “Oh, I see you like a healthy breakfast,” my friendly PR lady commented as I struggled to carry the plate to the table. Oh, maybe I had gone a little over the top. How could I explain that I was Home Alone and living off a diet similar to a wolf, with the red meat, and Homer Simpson with the junk food? “Well, yes, I do like to look after myself,” was the only answer I could think of, which in fact was a complete lie. But I didn’t care I was getting a fruit infusion!




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