I am largely a hermit these days. I am, at age 40, happier in my bed than in a fete.Unfortunately this craving for solitude and quiet extends beyond fetes to pubs, wine bars, restaurants and house limes. Just about the only thing I like and can be counted on to do is go to church.
It's an inconvenient condition, this being a hermit. Take for instance the roti column, which as you would imagine can't be written from my bed. (Well, it can be written from my bed, but not researched there.) I have to actually get out of the house and drive somewhere to buy roti. Having promised to go South or Central, I tried to badger myself into doing that.
I heard about a promising roti shop close to the Piarco airport, which has superlatively fluffy paratha–or so its putative owner was allegedly overheard to boast at the Hyatt recently. (And before you ask, I wasn't the one at the Hyatt.)
http://www.guardian.co.tt/digital/new-members