Coconut has noticed that anything that can go wrong, goes wrong at Easter, when there is no possibility of help from trained and skilled people, who instead are up camping at Lake Tinaroo or somewhere. Though not everyone is on holiday, as evidenced by the ambulance folk who seemed to be everywhere over the Easter break. Seems southerners choose Port Douglas to have their holiday heart attacks. Anyway, Mrs Coconut was down in the big smoke and visited an emporium, as she does, and was excited about a new pair of boots. She got them back to the digs only to find the box contained two right feet. (Probably somewhere down south is a customer who is a terrible dancer). She returned to the shop the next day but of course the store was closed. She had to fly out that night . . . there was the strange story about a tradie in Brisbane who couldn’t/ wouldn’t explain to police how he came to have $596 million in the bank a more than a billion worth of houses. I’d say above average thriftiness and one of those oldstyle kiddie savings accounts did the trick. But best of all is the yarn about the English woman, Susan Brown (69), who decided to swim out to a cruise liner off Madeira, mistakenly believing her husband had returned to the ship (he had actually boarded a plane and flown home . . . alone (oh dear, more on that in a minute). She saw the cruise liner from the airport and jumped into the Atlantic to intercept it, swimming more than 500m out to sea! Apparently her handbag kept the intrepid ol gal afloat until she was picked up by local fishermen who, one notes, thought her cries for help were coming from a large local seabird called the cagarra (see, a story with everything!). They said the British holidaymaker looked like a survivor of the Titanic! The couple had cut short a 32-day tour from the West Indies on day 28, with the cruise operator offering them flights out of the Portuguese island to fly back to Bristol on Saturday evening. Locals believe she entered the water very near the airport – where rocky steps lead down to the sea. Now that Mrs Brown is safely back in Dorset, one can only wonder in the coming days about the likely fate of Mr Brown, who flew back to Blighty . . . alone, after the row with the missus, according to the reports. Ahem. Of course the whole saga confirms that a lady’s handbag is her true best friend.