The last time we went to Jolly Harbour’s customs and immigration office in Antigua to check-out, the fine gentleman in the pic below stamped Long Ear’s passport as well as ours. Long Ears being Delphine’s trusty bunny. He made a very big deal out of it. Flourishing signature and not a smile in sight. This time we had to corner him for a photo. It took some persuading! Some people are kind and want no recognition for it. Like recognition degrades their kindness. Well, luckily his female colleagues weren’t having any of it. They shouted, ‘Sit down and have your photo taken with these nice girls!’ Being in the Caribbean, he wasn’t stupid. He sat. 

Since we’re a boat with a dog (even one who thinks she’s human), we had a long check-in day. We get it, except for apparent bat populations in Trinidad, the Caribbean islands have no rabies and they want to keep it that way. To check Fin’s paperwork met this same criteria, the vet was due to meet us in the late afternoon. So, after grabbing some lunch and taping our eyes open while we still felt our day and night passage from the BVIs, we left the girls on Quest. With the VHF radio on and a handheld VHF in our hands to keep us in touch, we dinghied back to the customs dock. ‘You saw Dr. Martin? Laetitia Martin?’ The vet, Dr. Hull-James, surely competition favourite for world’s-prettiest-vet-smile, asked us. ‘I didn’t know she was a government vet now.’ Now while Dr. Hull-James could win the smiling category,, Dr Martin, the government vet from Tortola must be favourite for world’s-funniest-vet-laugh. You could even take the vet out of it and she’d still qualify. This lady can make the moon smile. ‘You know her?’ I asked. Dr Hull-James nodded, flashed her pearlers and melted a nearby bag of ice. ‘We were in school together.’ 

As Fin provided the unlikely link between two old vet friends, Quest’s Cap suddenly took off towards the customs’ dinghy dock.. ‘Hey!’ he shouted to a man getting out of his dinghy, ‘you just used my dinghy as your fender! What are you doing?’ My skin prickled. Dr Hull-James was still talking and I was still nodding. But my ears had changed their signal orientation. They were focused on the dinghy dock. This man had used our dinghy to stop his own from hitting a barnacle-covered dock? Not cool. Bad boating etiquette. And he'd had been busted fair and square. Except he didn’t realise that he’d been busted by the real-life Otto from A Fish Called Wanda. Even Dr. Hull-James stopped talking. ‘Look,’ the American-accented man eventually said to Jack, his footsteps almost at running pace, ‘you’re right, I’m an ass.’ With this, he side-stepped around the side of customs and out of sight. Jack shook his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning back to Dr. Hull-James. ‘But it wasn’t right.’ She shook her head. Smiled. Temporarily blinded us. ‘Don’t worry. People can’t just do what they want to if it isn’t right.’ 

Love from Quest and her crew xx