Monday, 21 September 2009
Mr Grigg and the Octopus
It is Mr Grigg's brother who spots it first. The beast from the deep, forty thousand leagues under the sea.
'It's just lying there, its arm around a clam. It won't let me have it,' he says, through a pout-mouth and snorkel.
Mr Grigg and Number One Son are dispatched from the back of the boat to find it.
'I hope he doesn't kill it,' Mr Grigg's brother says to me. 'You know what he's like. I quite admired it, you know, with its tentacles wrapped around its prize.'
Ever since Mr Grigg saw a man wading patiently in the shallows around Keloura two years ago, it's been his ambition to catch an octopus and serve it up for supper.
Armed with a harpoon made from a broom handle, he edges forward in the water while Number One Son creates a diversion. Down below, the octopus seductively wraps her tentacles around his stick. Mr Grigg is smitten. A lover of natural beauty, he comes back empty-handed but full of admiration. He brushes it off by making smutty jokes about tentacles and poles. But his brother and I are pleased he has met his match in the shallows of Lakka.
That night, I cannot resist re-enacting a scene from the dreadful film Alien Versus Predator. As Mr Grigg and I snuggle down in the forward cabin, my arm goes up and I clamp my hand firmly around his head like a face-hugger alien.
'Do that again,' he says. 'I quite like it.'
A sucker for punishment, obviously.
That's about it
Love Maddie x