Catastrophe! I am advised through Crusoe, and similar romantic fictions, that the life of the castaway is full of challenges and opportunities for personal growth (spiritual rather than tumorous.) My morning's discovery has just put the lie to that spurious theory.I decided to make a small incursion into the Island's hinterland, chiefly in search of fresh water and toilet paper. Admiralty charts tend to chafe one abominably. After a short walk, I did indeed discover a delightful spring with all the fresh water one could usefully intake, but to my dismay, I found a troupe of interlopers in stolen hotel towels had set up some sort of laundrette in it. No doubt there will be an outlet that defrauds mobile phone cards soon, with perhaps a betting facility and a pile of retread tyres to trap the unwary.
I stayed unnoticed behind my palm fronds, and considered my options. I had the old ship's pistol with me, but cartridges are limited, and probably best conserved for wild pigs or other larger game. I do hope I won't regret my restraint in the morning.
After my adventures today, I have forsaken the Hippopotamus Song. It may have been some kind of omen
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