Aisle...Isle...I'll....

First up, let me say I really am enjoying the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series by Laurell K Hamilton. I’m a big fan of Jean Claude…not so much of the werewolves she mixes with but then I’m a vamp girl.

Anyway, I was reading another instalment in the series today and a typo in the paperback was doing my head in. Yes, yes, I know typos abound in books especially ebooks and not every editor and final editor is going to pick them all up. But, I expect a reputable publisher and not a fly-by-nighter e-pubber to pick up something simple like the fact that ‘isle’ does not mean the same as ‘aisle.’ I read it three times, in three different places, in a short space of time, and I had to put the book down. The two words have two different meanings and neither is the slightest bit similar nor can it be blamed the whole UK versus USA spelling.

Hmmm…at least they didn’t use “I’ll”….

       

Your basic Houdini move…

So, it was suggested to us when we hit Green Island – 45 mins by catamaran from Cairns - to use a stinger suit. See picture. This covers your head to your toes. Why the suit? It’s stinger season in FNQ (Far North Queensland) and being in severe pain or dead isn’t a good look unless you’re a vampire – I say this as I’ve started reading the Anita Blake series on Vampires and I have a thing for Jean Claude at the moment…read the series – you’ll know what I mean…anyway back to not wanting to be dead….so I got the suit and put it on. It’s not flattering. It’s like wearing a big condom. Now, not having penis, I’ve not actually worn a condom but it looks to be as non comfortable as that. 

The thing was a stinger suit it’s an absolute bugger to get off from your shoulders. I kid you not. I could not get the damn thing off my shoulders. I have good set of girl shoulders on me. Peeling tight lycra off those?  Hard. Difficult. A total embuggerance. I unzipped down the front and for the life of me I could not get the same fabric off my shoulders. I pulled and wiggled and swore. No good. I swore some wore. I ripped at the fabric. I whirled around aimlessly in a circle swearing as I tried to pull it off my arms. I sweated a lot, red faced with my boobs sticking out from the unzipped front. Waaay too much information for onlookers. And then I remembered that Houdini movie with Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh where he dislocated his shoulders to free himself from a straight jacket. I composed myself. I crossed my arms in front of me and thought as Houdini would. I took a deep breath and pulled at the lycra. Nothing. Fucking Houdini. What did he know? After a lot more swearing and weird body contortions that I am sure will turn up on an episode of that Neanderthal show ‘Funniest Home Videos', I pulled the stinger suit off and threw it across the beach. I swore then, in my best Scarlett O’Hara voice “As god is my witness, I will never wear a stinger suit again.”

So, I snorkelled without one. Did I get stung? Nope. What bloody stinger in its right mind is going to latch on to me? The picture below is of lovely driftwood on Green Island. I really wanted to take it home with me...