After a day on the beach (yes I do leave the mud and the chaos occasionally) I realised that I still had to pick the last of the mangos for the market. With this in mind, and stupidly thinking it would be a quick job I decided that this job could be done in flip flops, shorts and a bikini top. This proved to be a huge mistake, much to the neighbours amusement.
Now fruit picking is not as easy as you may think, and it is never a case of simply wandering though the tress, slowly picking the fruits off the trees, as they are never all the same height. You need to be mastered in the art of contortion, and know how to use a fruit picker. The fruit picker is a basic pole with a bag on the end of it, which sounds straightforward, however, you need to be able to position this and convince the fruit that it wants to be in the bag.
On a normal day I allow myself plenty of time to pick the mangos, which results in mild cursing, and 60% of the fruit ending up where it is supposed to be, however, on this occasion I was hot, rushed and not in the mood to be in an orchard speaking sweetly to a mango.
I got on with the task in hand, and was filling the crates quite happily, when our neighbours begun to shout and wave. Now this happens quiet often, as they think we are mad. We have discovered that we are the local entertainment, however, I don't really care, and love to wave back and smile. This worries them more, and will often cause them to wander off back into their houses.
However, today they didn't go anywhere, and continued to wave, which became annoying rather than funny. Now my Spanish is not brilliant, and they know this, so often hand gestures and charades are played to communicate. as I stood watching the old guy grabbing his chest, I wondered if he was having a heart attack...then the penny dropped and I realised that my left breast had in fact slipped from the very small bikini that I had chosen to pick fruit in, and was on full display to the crowds!