And one rolled over...

Last night we slept four in a bed and it was hell. There is no other way to describe it. Although we had been promised an extra bed, this came late at night in the guise of a dirty single mattress which was heaved unceremoniously on our beach shack floor by the surly teenaged room boy. Given that there was no mosquito net for this makeshift bed, we could hardly put our four year old on it to brave the mosquito's all on his lonesome whilst the three of us slept soundly, shrouded in worn netting. So that is how it happened that a formation of four filthy travelers settled in, with much reluctance, on two single beds pushed together, for what would be a very looooong night. We put Egg closest to the wall, followed by Dumpie, then me, then Jay. Lucky Jay was buffeted from the various nocturnal kicks, flailing and general flopping about which resulted over the next several hours. I kept drifting in and out of sleep only to be scared awake by an elbow to my head, or the pain of a clump of hair being yanked from my crown. At one point I sat up to find Egg crying in his sleep because Dumpie had completely reversed his position and was kicking his fat little legs into Egg's face as they lay opposite to each other in foot to head formation (sigh).

Bad sleeps aside, we trudged down the beach, slightly subdued, to breakfast at Madhu's Beach Hut for banana porridge, fried eggs on toast, chai, fresh orange juice and aloo paratha. Dumpie insisted on using a giant serving spoon for his repast and thus quickly created a huge mess which we were unable to hide from the waiter or indeed the other diners. His entire outfit was soon covered in sticky porridge and so were the pristine chair cushions. Moreover Dumpie decided that being a porridge monster did not suit his image and insisted (via loud shrieking) after every unsuccessful spooning attempt, that I use the wholly useless tiny, waxy serviettes on the table to wipe him down. Our charming breakfast culminated in Dumps pouring the remainder of our mineral water into a huge glass, then delicately dipping both fists into it, using it as a makeshift finger bowl. Once the water was clouded with dirt and bits of porridge, he proceeded to take the only other clean glass on the table, and measure out portions of this putrid water to drink. We looked on in disgust, and really should have put a stop to it, but it was keeping him quiet and content and we were loathe to piss him off. We all know the repercussions of that.

Egg has recently developed a love of all sports which is unfortunate for the poor bugger as both his father and I veer more toward 'Art Fag' territory and perhaps aren't equipped to raise a premiership player. To this end he has spent much of the holiday playing football on the beach with Dada and an assortment of local kids. Yesterday he discovered frisbee and it has been to my detriment as just moments ago he knocked over my ice cold bottle of pepsi. Plus there have been too many near misses to the side of my head to count. He and Dumpie have also taken to 'roughhousing' with each other and it drives me mad as they'll go from wrestling combat to tears in seconds. Egg's method of attack is usually a fist driven punch to the head and Dumpie retaliates by grabbing a fistful of Egg's golden hair and yanking as hard as he can. Surprisingly they are fairly well matched in terms of ability and resilience, though we all have to remind ourselves that Dumpie is only 2 years old as his behavior is more akin to a gibbering mafia don.

Anyway, we have one more night of hell ahead of us then we move on tomorrow. As glorious as this view is (I'm sitting in a hammock on a shaded porch, watching the deep blue sea just yards ahead of me) the torturous nights of four-in-a-bed just aren't worth it. I think Jay and I are both realizing that Paradise comes at a cost - and we're slowly figuring out exactly what that might be...