Ontogeny, as they say, recapitulates phylogeny, one of those delightful theories like the luminiferous aether and phlogiston that seem to explain things neatly but are in fact completely wrong. Be that as it may, it was time for us to follow in the handprints of our hominid ancestors and descend from the treetops. I have to say, evolution would have gone a lot faster if our arboreal ancestors had had access to a freight elevator.

Here’s some more pictures of our home in the treetops.

The remarkably unstable approach…

… the deck…

… the bathroom sink, carved from a single piece of wood…

… the wardrobe, lowered by a pulley system when you need to get at the clothes…

… the view from the kitchen counter…

… the mosquito netting around the bed…

… and Paula commencing her final descent.

We have moved to a more prosaic bungalow at L’Anse à l’Âne, (the cove of the ass). There’s a pretty beach lined with bars and restaurants, but the photos are on my other camera, so you’re going to have to wait till tomorrow to see that. Also a boulangerie and a Carrefour Express.

Even though this is a modern development in a gated resort, we still don’t have glass in the windows, just louvered shutters. Just as the taxi lobby hates public transport, I suspect the insect repellent lobby hate glazing. If I started selling insect screens, I would probably be found stabbed to death with a citronella candle.