‘What’s your name?’ – asked the guy who had jumped out of a battered up pick up truck and stopped me in the middle of the road. It was a sunny Sunday morning and I was just walking through the cobbled streets of Alderney enjoying my day off. And then boom – this happened. It felt like a ‘movie star’ moment, and I didn’t mind. I was still the new girl in town. ‘Vilma’, – I said. ‘I’m the gardener’, – he replied, jumped back into his truck and drove away leaving me smiling to myself.

Some time has passed since I came to the island. I found myself a new place to live (thank you for the offer, Helen!), which meant my own room and my own bathroom in a lovely family home. I found myself a better job (I’m pretty sure I owe thanks to somebody there as well) and the island was starting to rub off quite nicely on me.

The walks to and from the new restaurant were pure pleasure with amazing views of the coastline. I hated it when it rained. But the islanders were very friendly and would always offer me a ride up or down the hill in the nasty weather. They would offer it on sunny days too, just to show how truly friendly they were!

A couple of days after the ‘movie star’ incident (see above) I realized that the gardener was living next door to my new place of work. How did I come to realize that? Because he called out my name one morning from his balcony when I was getting ready for the night service. And so the casual greetings turned into the visits to his house – very convenient having to go up just a few steps after my shift.

Now if you think that this turned into something serious, you are absolutely right. It turned into dating 2 men (or at least as close as I ever came to that) at the same time.

Which brings us back to ‘I heard you were making out with the eye candy boy last night’ mentioned previously. Going out with the gardener was ok. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either. The visits were kind of monotonous, and I think by now you know me well enough to know I’m not ‘the same thing every day’ kind of girl. Oh wait, but I am! Now… Sort of… Back then it was different. And I’ve got one waitress to blame.

About 10 years younger, still in high school, she was the sweetest thing and she did her job well. But she was also always full of stories about a bunker party or a house party she had been to the night before. I had done none of the partying and as you remember, my high school years were spotless and quiet too. But my coworker was a mystery to me. I listened and I listened until I could not just listen anymore and started asking questions. At that time another student joined us at the restaurant and she was also full of stories of the previous night. They both encouraged me to come with them to one of the bunker parties and guaranteed me I’d have a great time.

‘What’s a bunker party?’ – you ask. The recipe is simple. You take a bunker.

You add some lights and music.

You throw in some youngsters.

And you’ve got yourself a party.

Now don’t freak out, please. Having spent the past year in lockdown and still facing the pandemic, I know what you are thinking. The parties were not organized during that time. But when I was there it was the thing to do and the place to be seen (huh? In that darkness?). The bunker would be a mile or two outside of town. But who counted? You’d go with a bunch of friends and have fun on the way. You’d see the bright stars in the dark night sky. You’d do your business on the grass on the side of the road and continue walking like nothing had happened.

Even though I was not yet 30, I was one of the older people there (I checked!). Still, those parties were amazing, something I had never done before. And in one of the first parties I’d gone to, I met the eye candy boy.