2006-02-22 - 9:13 a.m.

Ste Anne, Seychelles.

I think someone got to Hanse. My invitation to accompany him to the island�s only nightclub (Love Nut) has been hastily withdrawn. Something about an unforeseen late shift, but I�m not buying it. I ran into him as I was stowing away on the staff boat to the main island, and once I�d refused to sell him my Converse trainers (on the grounds that I don�t have anything else to wear) he was a bit less effusive about the whole thing. Either that, or he thinks that, on reflection, I�m probably queer. Either way, no Love Nut for me. Which is probably no bad thing.

Relatively young guys on their own hanging around hotels for five days do seem to draw suspicion, or curiosity at least. Here�s a story I�d like to tell to the next person that innocently asks me why I�m on my own:

�You know, I lost her�my Debs, I mean�just a couple of days after the wedding. We always knew it was hopeless, but she wanted to walk down that aisle if it was the last thing she did, which it pretty much was. I say walk, it was more �wheeled�. Yeah, the priest was a bit put out � you�d think no-one had been pushed along to the Wedding March in a hospital bed with full life support equipment before. �Why not get married at the hospital?� they said, but I�d already had the invitations printed, and my Debs wouldn�t have it any other way. At least, I think she wouldn�t � she could only communicate through delicately varying her retching by that stage, so who knows? The ceremony was beautiful, though, especially once everyone had acclimatised to the projectile vomiting and I think the emergency lumbar puncture broke things up nicely. It gave people a chance to catch some air, and lots of them even showed their respect by not coming back afterwards. The reception was a blast, and we piped liquidised versions of all five courses into Deb�s saline drip, just so she didn�t miss out. Of course, it was downhill from there, really. The wedding night was obviously a disappointment as the hotel had double-booked the honeymoon suite but Debs did have one last moment of lucidity. We�d arranged this holiday before they�d amputated her elbows, obviously, and by this point it was clear that, ironically, elbow room on the plane would be the last thing she�d be needing, and she�d soon be enjoying that great arm rest in the sky. But she said, �Brian,� which isn�t my name but I was taking what I could get by then, �You go on that holiday. I know you�d rather stay here and enjoy a few final precious moments with me, but life must go on and�� there was something else, but I was too busy stuffing my passport into my pocket and phoning for a taxi. Anyway, it�s worked out quite well � suddenly that standard room isn�t looking so pokey any more and I�ve got twice as much money to spend on me. Her family are taking care of all the arrangements and I�m back in time for the funeral, caring husband reputation still intact thank you very much. Yes, it�s quite the sweet deal, let me tell you�so can I buy you a drink, miss? No?�

Home tomorrow.