Our honeymoon is probably one of the shortest on record but it’s not because the proverbial honeymoon is over. Last night, this morning, this afternoon and this evening proved that.
In between we found time to...eat and sleep. The truth is, we haven’t left our tiny little cottage on the beach on the Atlantic Ocean in Newfoundland Canada. Because Susan and I are both Order members the cozy fireplace here at the cottage was hooked to the Floo but Godzilla himself had better be stampeding the Queen if someone dare uses it to summon us back.
Today we’re supposed to go whale watching at dusk. I’m sure it’s beautiful and rewarding but as Susan dries her hair on a fluffy white towel, fresh from the bath, I could think of a lot more fun things to do.
"Oh come on, Justin, if you hurry up so we don’t miss the tour boat, I’ll make a stop with you on those bluffs up there," Susan coaxes me. She wins! We go out.
I feel drained but in a good way. In a way I haven’t felt for a long time. It isn’t the kind of tired I get from overtime shifts or injuries. It’s coming down from the rush of my new life. I’m married/
I definitely fell up hill this time and as I seem to fall a lot, that’s a really good thing.
We arrive at the boat dock and within three minutes of hearing the captain speak to the tourists, I have caught his accent. Susan giggles at me repeatedly as I squint at the coloured Canadian Muggle money that I’ll never get used to. I hand the tour operator the money for the tickets and give a good tip. Susan and I snuggle into our plastic yellow raincoats that are provided to us by the captain, looking like we’re off on deep sea adventure. If Susan came to me wearing only that tonight my year would be made!
The captain announces that this will be a three hour tour and I find myself laughing. I can’t help it. The tune to Gilligan’s Island is playing in my head. I cast a look around at my fellow passengers to see if there is anyone who looks like the Professor who can make a radio out of coconuts.
"So are you guaranteeing that we’ll see the big whale fish?" asks a guy sitting opposite us. Bingo, I’ve found Gillagan!
Susan would be the movie star of course. Only she’s way prettier than the star that played her on television when I was a child.
Susan puts up with my singing the theme song and orders us some brandy. It gets cold with the sprays coming up over the bow of the small craft.
We sit there being told about the ocean’s many life forms. I am admittedly captured by the knowledge that the captain has about his job. I then find my Mr Howel.
"I want my money back. It’s taking too long for the whales to get here. Why don’t you just call them?" A man dressed in his own very expensive raincoat asks.
The captain explains that there is no way to predict if the whales will show up or not and the man begins to get more agitated and rude. I count the brandy snifters in front of him to six. Jerk!
The captain goes to talk to the tour operator who I overhear is his wife. Business is not going well. Foreign vessels have been poaching in these waters and the whales have been scared and are now even shying away from friendly vessels when before they had been a common sight, even showing off for tourists.
I listen harder and find out that the captain and his wife are about to lose their house.
If I lean over very slightly I can place my wand in the water. I do this and I say, "Point Me." I concentrate on whale sounds, amplifying sound only for my ears to hear.
"Captain," I say excitedly, pretending I can see something in the far off distance, look over there!"
Susan aims her wand on the horizon and causes a splash of water to plume up into the air. The Captain aims for the spot. Slowly as the Captain throws some frozen fish overboard we see whale heads begin to emerge, breaking the surface to eat the fish. Camera flashes go off and there’s oohing and awing all over the boat from the happy passengers. It’s a temporary fix but it’s all we can do for now and we feel really good inside.
"Got an idea," Susan says with a twinkle in her eye.
"Me too, bluffs, ten o’clock," I say happily, reminding her.
"Yes, Justin, but what I was thinking is that on our next holiday we should go out on the ocean and do a little public service announcement, wizard-style to the poachers.
"Why Mrs Finch-Fletchley, you know that’s the most sexy thing anyone’s ever to me."
"I thought you’d like that," Susan smiles, leaning her head on my shoulder as the whales swim away into the sunset.