Islands in the stream – well intracoastal waterway, actually

Today’s post brought to by: Kenny and Dolly

Grateful for: Everything Laura and Kevin have done for me and generously given me

Trying hard to accept: Here comes the rain, little darlin’

Today we went – by car, foot and ferry – to 5 of North Carolina’s barrier islands.

If you’ve ever watched HGTV’s ‘Beachfront Bargain Hunt’ as obsessively as I have, it’s pretty darn cool to be standing on the very beaches you’ve seen on TV every other episode.

What you don’t appreciate on TV is how pristine white and fine the sand is.

You don’t need to spend $199.95 + tax + baggage + seat selection + food + anything else you touch for an off-season special to Maui when you’ve got it on your doorstep here.

Oak Island, North Carolina is now #4 on the offical ‘Places I Want to Live in the US so Sell Your Kids and Send Me the Money Now’ list. It’s tax deductible so open that eBay account and get listing.

Now.

Funnily enough, given its name (ha!) there are autumn leaves everywhere you look on Oak Island – from the masses of trees you see as you drive over the bridge to the tree-lined narrow streets and the gardens around all the old beach cottages.

And every single one has a front porch and a swing. And in my book, that’s all you need.

Spot the typo. Of course there’s one other thing you need. Well two actually:

• Christmas decorations – we spent a bit (a lot) of time wandering around (shoving all the disinterested dawdling husbands out of the way – there are benches on the porch in the sun for you to wait on – did you not see them?) in two Christmas shops chocka block with more trees and decorations than you’d find in Costco North Pole. If I didn’t have to haul everything I buy around the rest of the US I’d have bought everyone I know a decoration, each with a different theme.
• Four-letter word starts with F. Food. Of course. Captain Nance’s Seafood Restaurant on the Calabash River fed us the freshest seafood imaginable. Flounder (you cannot beat a flounder, although mighty useful for slapping disinterested dawdling husbands in Christmas shops), broiled shrimp and sea trout served with baked potatoes, sour cream, coleslaw, and endless baskets of complimentary hush puppies of which willpower-of-steel me only ate 3 even though I could have gleefully eaten 30.

One tiny corner in a Christmas shop. Multiply this by 146 and you get an idea of how much stuff they had.

Five-letter word starts with L, ends with H. No, not lynch, leech or loath. Lunch. On the deck in the sun at Captain Nance’s. No, I do not have 17 hush puppies stuffed in my gob. Those chubby cheeks are just an illusion.

Talk about right place at right time as we drove into quaint, historic Southport and what should we stumble across but carol-singing in the old town square and Captain Newtown’s Inn owned by friends of Kevin who graciously showed us around. Talk about big. Talk about beautiful. Talk about exquisite taste. Talk about green with envy.

Now that my stomach has recovered from Thanksgiving yesterday I can tell you more about it.

We drove to Laura and Kevin’s friends’ place in semi-rural North Carolina. I went up to the loft to try and show you what it looked like but the photo doesn’t do it justice.

It was the most stunning house with ceilings higher than my credit card debt, full-length windows and a screened-in porch where all you can see is the sun setting among the autumn leaves and families of deer stopping by for a snack.

We were made so welcome by the most interesting people of all ages.

You know how every Christmas you say to yourself: Right, this year I am NOT going to eat till I feel sick. I am NOT going to eat more than one course. I do NOT need to eat everything I see. I AM going to save room for dinner.

Well don’t even bother starting that conversation at Thanksgiving. Give up before you start.

After we’d rolled into the car and driven home I assuaged 0.0057% of my remorse and went for a long walk round the neighbourhood. Funnily enough I wasn’t alone. It was like a clandestine meeting of Overeaters’ Anonymous.

Guess what this is. Clue: I took the photo out walking last night. What do you mean that clue’s useless? Ok so you know that orange plastic sheeting stuff they wrap around posts to stop you falling into trenches along the footpath? Well it’s that reflected onto the concrete. Cool huh? Yeah, I thought so too.

How to make money off all your mates called John. Become their John and rent them out. No chance of anyone forgetting anyone’s name in this wee (ha ha) business venture.

At some ungodly hour tomorrow I say a very sad goodbye to Laura, Kevin and their family of cockatiels rescued from nasty abusive owners (that’s Otis my little bald-headed eagle in miniature buddy) and get on a bus-then-train-then-bus to Charlottesville, Virginia which everyone tells me is the most beautiful city except when the one day I visit when it’s gonna rain.

As Laura pointed out, this is the end of the golden weather. Tomorrow I go from 75 degrees to 45 in one day. And then down down down till I’ll be wearing 6 layers of clothes. To bed.

Breakfast on the deck at Laura and Kevin’s overlooking the water with the bluebirds feeding on the deck, the ducks quacking by and golden sun and leaves everywhere you look. Doesn’t get much better than that. No, I do not have 17 biscuits stuffed in my gob. Those chubby cheeks are just an illusion.