I set up shop on the patio (one of several patios), which is overlooking a valley filled with birdsong, bird screech, bird honk. I start my day going for a walk in the rather steep, aggressively lush hills. A breakfast of tropical fruit follows (if I lived here, I would surely figure out how to make use of all the cocoa fruit that is just dropping off the trees around me). There is a pool at my disposal lest I overheat in my fingerboard planing zeal, and I make good use of it.
It is rather like being in a tropical spa with a little, well a lot, of violin work thrown in.
Every once in a while, several soft whoomping sounds alert me to the fact that a flock of peacocks has alighted on the neighbouring patio. They stealthily creep up on me, until I see one beady-eyed head, then the next, peek around the corner. There are chickens, there are parrots, there are hummingbirds and singing tree frogs. Horses are wandering around the lanes. Sadly, there are also mosquitos, but not nearly as many as last year.