I love Epicurean! For those not familiar with Antigua, let me explain. Epicurean is a huge supermarket, the size of a Tesco Superstore. I love it because you can find almost everything you want in there, including Waitrose own-brand products. They also sell Duchy stuff, but I don’t touch that with a bargepole, given who the owns the company. I love it because it’s big, big, big and I usually do two or three circuits of it in air-conditioned comfort as a nod to exercise before I start my shop.
http://www.epicureanantigua.com
One thing I don’t like is its prices! Especially now that the pound’s fallen. I have to stop myself converting the price of everything into sterling, reminiscent of my dear Mum, who always did that, converting prices back into pounds, shillings and pence. A couple of years before she died we were both in Tesco and she appeared beside me and pointed to the bread in her trolly and said, ‘Fifteen shillings for a loaf of bread. Terrible, isn’t it?’ ‘But it’s not fifteen shillings, Mum.’ ‘Yes it is! It’s seventy-five pence and that’s fifteen shillings. For a loaf of bread!’ And then shaking her head she wheeled her trolly off down towards the freezers. And I do find I’m in fear of doing the same, LOL!
But, to return to my main theme, the main reason I like Epicurean is because it is a meeting place. Every single time I go there I meet up with someone I know; sometimes lots of people. Sometimes, I think I have a better social life in Epicurean than I do anywhere else!
Take yesterday for instance. No sooner had I got through the door, I bumped into my reiki practitioner. Now, I’d had a session with her the previous afternoon – which was wonderful by the way – and until then I’d never met her before. Yet here we were, paths crossing in Epicurean!
Then, I turned down the Big Sizes aisle – it’s where they sell multi-packs and large tins and boxes of stuff, nothing to do with me or my size! – and found myself face-to-face with the guy I took to court over non-payment of a contract; the guy who is still dragging his feet over paying me and who, as we’re now in November, is three months in arrears. Now the last time I saw him was also in Epi; we were walking towards each other at the back of the store and he saw me coming so he veered sharp right and scuttled off down the cookies and candies aisle. Yesterday he had nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide, as the song says. So, eyes fixed straight ahead he strode past me, humming to give himself courage, with never a thought as to whether I would be buying my groceries on my credit card or whether my electricity bill is overdue because he hasn’t paid up. And the last two days his company has been all over Facebook with news of work they’re doing. Still, there you go! I leave it to Karma. At least I can hold my head up high and put it on the pillow at night to sleep peacefully and I’ve never had to slither away from someone in the supermarket.
So – I did my shop – and as I was crossing the car park I heard a man say, ‘Don’t I even get a hug?’ I continued walking because I didn’t think he could be talking to me. Then he said it again, so I stopped and looked back at him. ‘I can’t get a hug from you, Elaine?’ he said. And then I recognised Junior (as I know him, don’t know what his real name is!) who had been in the entertainments team for much of the time I took the singles groups to Jolly Beach Resort. How lovely to see him!
The last time I’d seen him had been at Shirley Heights about four years ago, when his band was playing there. So we had lots to catch up on. We stood chatting and laughing over old time for ages. We reminisced about the singles people he remembered – a surprising number! – and about the dozens of nights we sat with some of my clients talking about life in Antigua, about music and generally putting the world to right. We remembered the Valentine’s Night the Ents Team put on a beautiful table and little gifts for my group only to have two women refuse to sit at it as they felt “patronised”. We roared with laughter over “Toyboygate”. Let me explain:
As an entertainer it was part of Junior’s job to get people up on the dancefloor each night. One night he came dancing over to where I was sitting with my group and held his hand out to some of the women, asking them to dance. They clutched their handbags tightly to their bosoms and refused to leave their seats. In desperation he turned to me and I got up and danced with him and soon lots of other people had joined us, including said group of women. A couple of nights later the same thing happened. Nobody on the dance-floor, my women reject his request to dance so I dance with him until the floor fills up a bit. Once we were back in UK I had a phonecall from my boss who was laughing her head off. ‘Is there something you want to tell me, Elaine?’ she asked. She then read out a complaint on a comment sheet. “Elaine couldn’t have cared less about the group. All she was interested in was having a good time herself, dancing and carrying on with her toyboy every night.” I roared with laughter at the thought of him being my toyboy! But it was frustrating – I’d got up to dance to try to make a nice atmosphere for my group to enjoy themselves. And at the same time, it was quite hurtful, as this was from a woman who’d given me a huge hug when we’d said goodbye at Gatwick and had told me I was the best tour manager she’d ever had and had totally made her holiday! You never know what’s going on in someone’s head…
We spoke of sad things, too, like his colleague, the beautiful, young Maria, who was killed in a car crash. He sang at her funeral, something I’ll never forget, just like I’ll never forget her.
We talked and talked and talked, until my frozen stuff started to defrost, even though it was in a cool bag. But it was so lovely to see him again and to chat and catch up. He told me where he plays on a regular basis and when my friend S (who was originally one of my singles guests) comes out to see me again in two weeks we shall go and see him, especially as he remembers her, too.
So you see, that’s why I love Epicurean; because it’s where my social life happens. It’s my meeting place. Is that sad?
