I want you to know I’m not 10 years old. I am not a teen. I’m not even in my early 20s any more. I’m not a toothless Octogenarian who has to have ground food and a geri-chair. Yet in this Daily Prompt you ask me: If you could pause real life and spend some time living with a family anywhere in the world, where would you go?
You do note that extra stress indication in the center. Why would a grown man want to live with a family somewhere in the world? Why can ‘t I just
If you could pause real life and spend some time living anywhere in the world, where would you go?
How bloody old are you twits? 15?
Can you see Hemingway living with a family in a foreign country? Can you see the old time explorers and correspondents living with a family? An expatriated American going “Oh is there a nice family around. I need to park my [1980’s Banana Republic when it was really a shop and not a twit store] butt someplace nice with a good family” Indiana Jones going “I think I’ll live with a nice family in…”
Women did live with families but it was generally accept then that Women were helpless creatures who were no brighter than your average 10-year-old male. And they needed to protection of a big strong male. Plenty of women back then who proved that wrong too.
I can assure you I’m not a helpless little twit who must live with a family. It seems someone who wrote this is. So lets get on with the correct version of this question. [you are batting 100 for screwing up dears by the way]
Now on to the question without that stupid “With a family”
Hot. Dry… Or with a really good beach. And a typewriter if there was no electricity. Mosquito netting if there is a beach. Since we are pausing Reality it would be Saint-Marie I like the place. I like the people. I love the police force. I would relieve poor Detective Inspector Richard Poole of that beach front house he hates. It would suit me just fine. I’ll even take over custody of Harry the Lizard.
I fell in love with that beach house the minute I saw it in Death in Paradise.
And I can have my laptop. I can see sitting there on the porch while the sun goes down and I’m typing away. Or wandering down to Catherine Borday’s bar and saying hello to DI Camille Bourday, her daughter and Fidel and Dwayne.
Yes, I could adjust to living there quite nicely. I may not come back.